Show Me How

by Molly McAdams

  I clenched my teeth against my trembling jaw, and gritted out, “I have let you ruin so many things in my life. I let you ruin my heart, and let you continue to long after you were gone. I let you ruin any possible relationship I could’ve had, because all I wanted was you. I let you ruin the best thing that has ever happened to me, or our son, because of what you did to me. I’ve let you ruin me because I loved you, and you never deserved any of it.”

  Slowly, I stood from my spot and brushed off my pants as I blinked back tears and cleared my throat. “You’re missed. You are so missed. Keith looks just like you, and it breaks my heart and fills it all at the same time to look at him and see you. Thank you for him, Ben. A million times, thank you. I will cherish those nights with you for so many reasons, but I hate that I’ve wasted my life loving someone who never loved me.”

  I took a few steps back, then paused. “For so many years I’ve wondered how you could give me everything, only to rip it away just days later when I was so sure you wanted it too. I’m done wondering now. Wondering ruined the short time I had with him. I won’t let it ruin anything in my life ever again.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Deacon

  July 31, 2016

  I’D SLEEPWALKED THROUGH the past month.

  I couldn’t remember when I’d worked or when I’d driven. When I’d actually slept in my bed or eaten, or when I’d lain down exactly where I was at that moment. I couldn’t remember anything other than Charlie.

  I was constantly consumed with thoughts of her.

  I wanted to be consumed by her again.

  I wanted to go back and take away every conversation with Words so I could have prevented losing Charlie. But at the same time, I’d gotten to know Charlie, and she’d gotten to know me, better than anyone else ever had because of those conversations, so I knew I would never regret them.

  I would just always regret losing her; losing Keith.

  I stilled when I felt a small body settle in next to mine, and slowly opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling of the living room before looking over at my side.

  A huff left me when I saw long, flaming red hair spilling over my chest and shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Graham asked me to come since you didn’t show up at Sunday brunch again,” she responded simply, then flopped one of her arms over my chest to try to hug me as tightly as possible.

  I squeezed her forearm. “Thanks, Grey.”

  “Exactly what you needed?”

  “Exactly.”

  She rolled onto her back again so she was facing the ceiling as well, and let the silence creep between us for a few moments. “Charlie won’t talk to us about what happened.”

  The guys and Harlow said her name constantly, trying to get me to tell them what happened, trying to get me to go back to her and fix it . . . but hearing her name always made me feel as though I’d gotten the wind knocked out of me. I rubbed at my chest and grumbled, “I’m not gonna talk to you about it either. Graham shouldn’t have called you.”

  I’d spent two weeks sleeping above the garage at work before I’d finally came home and had it out with Graham.

  He’d been clueless about Stranger and Charlie’s thoughts that it might be him. Not that I’d thought he’d ever known—­I’d just been pissed off at the thought of her wanting him. But all of it had been made more apparent when in the middle of our fight, Kate came running out of Graham’s room in nothing but his shirt.

  Kate, who we’d all gone to school, and grown up, with.

  Kate, who none of us had ever touched because she’d wanted nothing to do with guys like us.

  Kate, the mystery girl Graham had apparently been in love with for years and was now finally dating.

  Love . . . that fucking word.

  Grey sighed. “Why did I have a feeling you would say something like that? And why are you both being so stubborn? You love each other, go fix—­”

  “No,” I said roughly. “No, I don’t.”

  She twisted so she could look up at me, her face pinched in confusion. “What do you mean you don’t? I’ve seen you with her, Deacon. I’ve seen the way you talk to her and treat her. I’ve seen the way you loo—­”

  “I don’t love her, Grey. Simple as that.”

  Disappointment radiated off of her. “Then why do you look just as bad as she does?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but she knew. She knew I didn’t believe in love.”

  “And so that’s stopping you from being with her? The fact that you think you don’t believe in love is what’s causing the two of you to look like this for almost a month?”

  A sharp, miserable sounding laugh burst from my chest, but I didn’t respond.

  Grey just nodded, and sat up. “I have something for you.”

  My eyes narrowed and darted to her, then over to where she was looking. If it weren’t for the baby in Jagger’s arms, I would have tensed in preparation for the ass-­kicking I’d been waiting for all month.

  But when Jagger passed Aly off to Grey, I did exactly that. I scrambled up and curled my hands into fists.

  I knew I’d said some shitty things to his sister, but she’d broken my fucking heart. I wasn’t about to let him get in any free hits.

  “Here, Deacon.”

  I shot a look to Grey, and flinched away from her when I noticed she was holding their baby out to me. “Don’t.”

  “Here, take her,” she urged, and took another step closer to me.

  I stumbled a ­couple steps away from Aly and Grey and Jagger, and shot Grey a dark look. “Dude, keep it away. I’ve been traumatized enough for a lifetime by one baby, and that was over eight years ago.”

  Grey smiled sweetly, deceivingly, and tried to come closer. “She’s just a baby, Deacon.”

  “Yeah, and it also crawls now. You know what else crawls? Bugs.” I twisted away when they got close, flinched when the baby grabbed for my shirt, and then froze when a small voice rang out in the living room.

  “Deaton!”

  I turned toward his voice, and something in my chest lurched when I saw his messy black hair—­and blue eyes just like his mom’s.

  Forgetting all about the baby and Grey, and Jagger’s murderous stare, I dropped to my knees as Keith ran toward me from Graham’s side, and caught him when he launched himself at me.

  “Deaton! Deaton! Where was you, I miss you.”

  Fuck. “I missed you too, kid,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I missed you, too.” I held him away from me so I could look at him, and had to clear my throat before I could ask, “Who are you today?”

  Keith’s face fell, and his eyes dropped to the floor. “Keith.”

  If he hadn’t looked so upset over that, I wouldn’t have pushed. “Not Captain America? I thought you were gonna knock me over just then.”

  He shook his head stubbornly, then looked at me hesitantly. “You and Mommy was mad and talked mad at each other, and then all the ladybugs came and took my supapowers away forever ’cause you left me. I thoughted you went to the grassy place.”

  It felt like the ground rocked beneath me. The ache in my chest from missing him grew into something so much more as I tried to put myself in his shoes. I’d spent nearly a month missing them, and he’d spent nearly a month thinking I’d died.

  I felt like I’d abandoned him, like I’d failed him.

  “Keith, no. I’m here . . .” I trailed off, and my head shook slowly. “I’m here, and they didn’t take your superpowers away. You still have them. I didn’t leave you.” I pulled him close and gripped him tightly when my eyes began burning. “Swear to God I won’t leave you, kid. I love you.”

  Chapter Twenty-­One

  Charlie

  July 31, 2016

  I WAS THAT girl.

  On the rare occasion t
hat I was in the house by myself, I was that girl who lay on her couch watching sappy love movies and eating chocolate because of a bad breakup.

  Except we hadn’t technically broken up because we’d never actually been together.

  And instead of a sappy love movie, I was watching Beauty and the Beast, and still wondering how my life hadn’t turned out the way I wanted it to.

  And my hands weren’t covered in melted chocolate, or holding a spoon that dipped in the tub of ice cream over and over again; they were holding the book I was simultaneously reading.

  That. Those two things. I blamed them for why my life was the way it was.

  Once upon a time and happily ever after . . . words I grew up hearing from Disney and children’s stories, and words I’d always believed in. As I grew up and my reading material grew with me, my standards for my Prince Charming morphed, but never lessened. I was so sure I would find my Prince Charming, even if he wasn’t as princely as I’d dreamed when I was a little girl.

  I glanced down to the book in my hands . . .

  As I said, my reading material had grown with me.

  I’d always thought every event in our lives—­major or otherwise—­was just another part of our story that made us who we were meant to be for our Prince Charming. I knew my story would never be found forever engraved on the pages of a novel—­only woven within the songs in my notebook—­but still I waited for my love story to put all other love stories to shame. For my happily ever after . . .

  Only to find out that none of it was real.

  “He’s not really changing for you or falling in love with you, he’s lying to you to get what he wants. He just wants the curse to be broken,” I mumbled, and looked back at my book. I froze when I realized what I’d just done.

  Oh no, I’m also that girl.

  The one who tries to stop a fictional character from making a mistake with another, even though there is no mistake to be made. I was trying to stop my favorite Disney ­couple from being together. That would be pathetic any day. After almost a month? It was depressing.

  At least I wasn’t in three-­day-­old pajamas, and I had still gone to work that day, as I had every scheduled day that month. Because I refused to let Deacon Carver see how he had broken me with his words and when he’d walked away.

  Not that he’d seen me, but this town talked.

  “That’s right, Belle. Run home.”

  My head snapped up when someone knocked on the door, and I quickly searched for my phone so I could check the time.

  Grey and Jagger had taken Keith today instead of having me take him to the babysitter’s, but they’d said they had something planned and wouldn’t be back for another ­couple hours.

  My arms tingled as goose bumps covered my skin, and my heart steadily beat faster and faster as I slowly stood from the couch and walked toward the door.

  No one else ever came over here, and I knew it was stupid to dream it could be him, but I wasn’t able to stop it.

  Irrational, betraying heart.

  I’d spent so much time during the past month agonizing over my heartache, and even more time thinking of where I had gone wrong. How I’d kept expecting Deacon to revert back to his old self. And, most important, how I’d continued a relationship—­for lack of better word—­with Stranger even though I’d known deep down that it was wrong, once Deacon and I had taken a turn in ours. But no matter how much blame I put on myself for our downfall, Deacon had betrayed me just the same. Because as Deacon had said, he was there for every conversation, as was I . . .

  Stranger had known the way to my heart, and had very clearly needed Words the way I’d needed him.

  Stranger had told me he didn’t know if he’d be able to walk away from me, from our conversations, and I’d known what he was saying was true.

  And while Deacon was subconsciously falling in love with me, Stranger had fallen for Words.

  Stranger had taught me how to trust someone with my heart by taking the small pieces of it and putting it back together, one conversation at a time. Our conversations and his words left their mark; I would never deny that. But he and I knew that what he was doing was preparing me for someone else. And once my heart had been made whole again . . . I gave it freely to Deacon.

  Deacon had told me that he wanted a life with my son and me. He’d made me believe he was giving me his heart in return.

  He’d made me believe it was only me for him, when in reality—­or depending on how you looked at the situation—­I wasn’t.

  I never had been.

  Another knock sounded, and I held my breath as I reached out for the knob.

  I opened the door, and the breath I’d been holding rushed out as disappointment flooded me.

  Irrational, betraying heart.

  “Graham. Hi.”

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “Uh . . .” I had just realized how devastatingly depressed I was a few minutes before, and had foolishly hoped I would open the door to someone else. But Graham was Deacon’s best friend, and I couldn’t allow him to see my pain. “I’m great. You?”

  “Good, good.” He looked pointedly at me. “Can I come in?”

  “Oh, right.” I quickly backed away, and opened the door wider. “I’m sorry.”

  Graham stepped inside my house, and smirked when he saw what was playing on the TV. After turning around in a circle in the living room, he faced me, and just stared.

  “What are you doing here?” I finally asked.

  “What, can’t I just come visit?” Something in my expression must have answered him for me, since Graham hadn’t been to the house since he’d helped me move in. He sucked in a quick breath through his teeth, then released it. “Yeah, all right. Uh, I’m here to get Deacon’s phone.”

  It felt as if my entire body fell through the floor at the mention of his name. It was the first time I’d heard it said out loud since the night he’d walked away. I swayed on my feet before I was able to steady myself, and shook my head to clear it. “You what?”

  “Deacon wants his phone,” he responded. “He asked me to come get it.” At least he had the decency to look embarrassed.

  I turned my head slowly toward my bedroom when I heard something come from that direction, but my eyes stayed on Graham as long as they could before dragging to look blankly down the empty hall.

  “Hey, and no hard feelings, right?” he said on a rush.

  “What?” I breathed, my voice sounded pained.

  “About Kate.”

  I looked back at Graham, my brow drawn together. “Kate? Kate . . . that you grew up with, Kate?” When Graham nodded, I asked, “What about her?”

  Graham stuffed his hands in his pockets and lifted his shoulders to his ears. “We’re dating now.”

  I think I looked shocked. I felt it, but I was still reeling from hearing Deacon’s name, and the fact that he’d sent Graham to come pick up something he’d left at my house weeks ago.

  I hadn’t expected Graham to date anyone, ever. Then again, I hadn’t expected Deacon to, either. “That’s great. Why would there be hard feelings?”

  “Well, considering I almost got my ass handed to me because you thought I was some stranger, or something.” He placed a hand on his chest, and ignored the way my cheeks reddened. “I’m flattered, Charlie, really. But, I’ve been waiting for Kate to give me the time of day my entire life. I’m sorry if you wanted me to be some guy on a phone, but—­”

  “Wait, what? No.” I cut him off, and made a face. “Graham, I didn’t want you to be the guy I was talking to; I just thought you were him. Every time I saw you, you ended up saying something that was nearly identical to what Stranger had said.”

  “Huh, well this is embarrassing.” He brought his hands together with a clap. “How about that phone?”

  Right. The phone. Deacon’s phone
, which had randomly gone off with messages over the first week from girls I didn’t know who wanted a night with him. I guess he would miss that phone.

  I gestured down the hall, and started walking that way. “Yeah, it’s in my room.”

  Graham’s mouth suddenly pulled into a wry grin. “Perfect.”

  I faltered at his look and tone, and said uneasily, “I’ll bring it to you.”

  He held up his hands. “I’ll wait here.”

  I hurried down the hall and into my room, and tried to hold back the angry tears that welled in my eyes as I searched through my nightstand for his phone. The fact that he wanted this phone back, the fact that he had been avoiding me for the better part of a month, the fact that he was gone . . .

  It hurt, it made me angry, it made me want to beg him not to be that guy.

  I gripped the phone in my hand and pulled it out of the drawer, but had taken only a step away when I noticed my notebook lying open on my bed. The same notebook that was supposed to be inside the drawer I’d just been searching through.

  I reached for the notebook, but paused halfway there. My heart skipped, then painfully took off when I saw the page it was on.

  It was lists of names of guys I knew in Thatch. Guys I worked with at Mama’s. Guys that I knew for sure had come into Mama’s the days the notebook had been passed back and forth between Stranger and me. Guys that could have possibly been Stranger.

  Nearly all of them were crossed out. Deacon’s included.

  Graham’s name was circled a few times with question marks following it.

  On the very top of the page was a note in a messy scrawl I had memorized, and knew as well as my own. A note that hadn’t been there before.

  Words . . . I told you I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to walk away from you. Turns out I was only able to after you broke my heart and I tore out the pieces to leave with you. Hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done. Second hardest was staying away. . .

  A shiver moved slowly down my spine when I heard my bedroom door softly click shut, but I didn’t take my eyes off the note when I felt him move toward me.