by Tara Sivec
My feet stay rooted to the stained, dirty hardwood floor as I stand here, staring at the man I fell in love with at sixteen and who has held my heart in the palm of his hand ever since then. That heart is beating nervously in my chest and I’m surprised that it still functions. Maybe he didn’t squeeze the life out of it earlier today. Maybe we can still make it. He’ll look at me and he’ll see me. The haze of alcohol and the demons trying to take over his mind will fade away and he’ll remember. I just want him to remember everything good and amazing about the two of us. He’ll remember and he’ll feel horrible about the things he said to me, the lies he told me to push me away for good. Having had time to think it through, I realize it was all lies. I have to believe that or I won’t be able to take another breath, move another inch or go on with this life without him.
He’ll feel bad and he’ll apologize and he’ll finally realize he needs to get help. I don’t want him to believe that I think he’s damaged. I told him things were just broken and I truly believe that. Pieces fall apart, but they don’t disintegrate. You can pick up those pieces and you can put them back together until everything is whole again. There might be a few cracks, but nothing is ever perfect. Anything that’s worth living for, worth dying for, has a few cracks. I believe our cracks can hold and we can keep it all together. I can give him another chance to breathe some life back into the part of my body that feels like it only exists with him, only beats for him and only lives for him. I can do this. He’s taught me how to be strong and how to be a fighter and I will fight for him until the day I die.
Bobby steps away from Fisher and his eyes catch mine across the room. He walks away from Fisher and makes his way up to Ellie and I.
“Thanks for coming, babe. I don’t know what the fuck to do. He won’t listen to me, he won’t stop arguing with people and he’s pretty much decided to drink himself into a coma,” Bobby explains with a sigh.
“You should have just let him do it. Let him pass out in a pile of his own vomit and regret,” Ellie states angrily.
“Pipe down, hardass,” Bobby tells her. “He’s my best friend and he’s hurting. I know Lucy will be able to get through to him.”
Ellie scoffs and shakes her head at him. “He kicked her out of the house this afternoon and told her he’s been fucking around on her all this time. No one is going to be able to get through to that asshole right now.”
Bobby’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates and he runs a hand through his short, curly hair. “Jesus Christ, Lucy. Fuck. I’m so sorry. You know it’s all bullshit, right? He’s going through some shit right now. He would never, ever do that to you. He loves you more than anything.”
I nod, hoping to God he’s right. “I know. It’s just…this is really hard, Bobby. It’s hard to see him like this when I don’t know how to help him. I brought up therapy this morning and he completely lost it. I don’t think he’s going to want to see me right now.”
Bobby shakes his head in denial, resting both of his hands on my shoulders and squatting down to look me straight in the eye. “You’re his entire world, Lucy, no matter what kind of shit he spouted earlier. Don’t believe any of it, you hear me?”
I nod at him again and he drops his hands from my shoulders.
“Oh, shit,” Ellie mutters from beside me.
She quickly moves in front of me, pressing her arm against Bobby’s before reaching up and cupping my cheeks in her hands. “I think we should go. Just turn around and leave and let him sleep it off. You don’t want to try and talk to him now when he’s had a shit ton more alcohol than earlier today. Let’s just go, Lucy.”
I know she wasn’t happy about my decision to come up here, but does she really think I walked all the way into town to tuck my tail between my legs and leave before I’ve even tried?
Bobby and I both look at her in confusion. Bobby looks behind him, over his shoulder, and then quickly back to me, moving closer to Ellie.
“You know what, I think that might be the best idea. It was stupid for me to call you. I’ll take him back to my place and we can figure out something tomorrow when he’s sober.”
Ellie drops her hands from my face and Bobby grabs my shoulders again, but this time he turns my body around and starts pushing me towards the door. I pull away from him and put my hands on my hips as I glare at both of them.
“What the hell is wrong with the two of you? I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”
My eyes move to the space between Bobby and Ellie that they had been trying so hard to keep covered from my line of sight. My hands drop from my hips and I start walking forward blindly, shoving the two of them further apart so I can walk in between them.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be real.
I keep moving, one foot in front of the other, even though all I want to do is take Bobby and Ellie up on their suggestion and turn and run as far away as I possibly can.
On the other side of the room, Fisher is still perched on his barstool, but now he has an extra person helping him fill the seat. Straddling his lap with her arms draped loosely around his shoulders is Melanie Sanders. She’s been a thorn in my side since high school, when she shamelessly flirted with Fisher right in front of me, even after the two of us became a couple and he obviously wasn’t interested in her anymore. Over the years, she’s gone through three husbands, but it never stopped her from blatantly telling Fisher she’d always be available to him whenever he was in town. Fisher told me they only slept together once in high school, right before I moved to the island, but it was enough to keep the jealousy alive and kicking in my veins over the years.
It hurt that he’d had so much more experience before we slept together and that I had to see constant reminders of his conquests around the island, but nothing stung my pride more over the years than Melanie Sanders. She is the epitome of everything I’m not. Big (read: fake) boobs, long legs, tiny waist, perfect skin without a trace of freckles, outgoing and the life of every party. She’s made enough money through her divorces that she can travel the world whenever the mood strikes and she never has to work to make ends meet. Her hair and make-up are always perfect and she’s always dressed in the latest fashions when she struts through town. Tugging at the hem of my Butler House t-shirt that is dirty and stained from cleaning the bathrooms this morning at the inn, I try not to feel like less of a woman thinking about how my hair is a mess in a loose ponytail and I don’t even remember the last time I put on make-up.
Even though my brain and my heart are screaming at me to look away, I can’t do it. I keep walking in a daze through the bar until I’m only a few feet away from Fisher, who now has his hands wrapped around Melanie’s ass.
I watch her run her tongue over his lips. The same lips I’ve kissed for fourteen years, the same lips that have kissed every inch of my body and spoken words of love and desire. My heart feels like it’s breaking in half. I bend over at the waist and wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold it all together. I feel like any second, my insides will spill all over the floor at my feet. A strangled cry escapes my mouth as Melanie shifts her hips in Fisher’s lap and I hear him groan.
Both of their heads turn in my direction at my guttural sound and I want a hole to appear in the floor so I can fall through it and disappear forever.
Melanie smirks and Fisher stares right through me with cold, dead eyes.
“Sorry, sweetheart, it looks like you just didn’t have what it takes anymore,” Melanie sneers as she keeps her eyes on me while she leans forward and runs her tongue over Fisher’s lips again.
I feel someone’s arms wrap around me from behind. I don’t even struggle as they pull me backwards, away from the nightmare I’m living through right now.
“Come on, Lucy, let’s go home,” Ellie says softly next to my ear.
“Yeah, get out of here, I’m a little busy,” Fisher finally speaks as he wraps his arms around Melanie’s waist and turns his head to look at her instead of me.
“You’re a fucki
ng asshole, you know that?” Ellie shouts as she continues to pull me through the bar.
“Been trying to get everyone to realize that for a while now,” Fisher yells in response, still gazing at Melanie.
I try to look away from the two of them, but I can’t do it. It’s like driving by a car accident and not being able to tear your eyes away from the devastation because you just have to see, you have to know that it’s real and that it actually happened.
“What the hell are all of you looking at? Mind your own fucking business!” I hear Bobby shout as his arms wrap around me, as well, and he helps Ellie usher me out of here.
I suddenly notice that the bar is silent. Someone turned off the music and everyone is looking between Ellie, Bobby and I over to what Fisher is doing at his table. It’s mortifying and I want to die. I feel like a bug under a microscope, like everyone is examining every detail of my life just for the fun of it. I don’t want to be the source of entertainment for this town. I’ve kept what’s been going on with Fisher a secret for years, never admitting to anyone but Ellie about how I felt like he was slipping further and further away from me. Too many people wanted our relationship to fail. Too many people tried to tell us that high school romances never work, especially when one of those people is a Marine who spends more time deployed than he does at home. I don’t want them to be right. I don’t want them to talk about me behind my back, satisfied that their predictions came true and that they were right along.
I can’t pretend like the things he said to me earlier were all lies, a way for him to push me away so I wouldn’t have to continue watching him fall down that deep, dark well. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve seen the betrayal and the hard truth of the words he spoke to me in living color.
My legs give out as we make it through the door of Barney’s and out onto the sidewalk. I don’t know who is holding me up or who is helping me walk at this point. Ellie and Bobby have a tight hold on me, both of them giving me words of apology and reassurance that I don’t even bother listening to as they take me away from the bar and my shattered hopes.
I’ve lost him. Everything he ever promised me was a lie. He was never going to find his way back to me.
Chapter 8
Fisher
Present Day
Lucy turns around and glares at me when I say her name. I might have added a little song to my voice when I said it, just like old times. I want to get a rise out of her. I want some sort of proof that she still feels something for me. I hate the fact that she’s clinging to this asshole’s arm so tightly that she’s probably cutting off circulation, practically begging him to keep her safe from the big bad wolf.
I want to say something cocky. I want to smirk at her and make some sort of joke about how I’m back and she can kick this jerk to the curb, but I can’t find my fucking voice. Jesus, how in the hell did I stay away from this woman for over a year? I didn’t want to, that’s for damn sure, but I had to. I was headed down a path that neither of us would have recovered from, and I couldn’t take her with me. I’d already done more damage to her than I cared to admit when I pushed her away, more harm than I ever wanted to think about, but that’s why I’m here. I have to relive all of that shit and I have to find a way to erase all of the pain I inflicted on her. It’s part of my recovery and it’s the only way I stand a chance in hell of proving to her that I never meant the things I said to her a year ago. I never meant to do what I did to her in that kitchen the last time I came home. It was a mistake. Every word I spoke and everything I did was a mistake, and I want to take it all back and make it right again. She just has to give me a chance to make it right.
“Jefferson.”
My first name on her lips sounds like a curse. I’ve never gone by that name since I share it with my father and my grandfather; it’s too confusing. I hate that damn name, but it’s still the most beautiful fucking sound in the world coming from her mouth, so I don’t complain.
“If you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere else to be,” she says in a polite, pissy voice as she starts to move away.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” I ask, nodding to the fancy asshole in the suit with his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder, touching my girl. Standing close to my girl. Doing God knows WHAT with my fucking girl.
I will not lose my shit, I will not lose my shit.
I’ve come too far and worked too hard to go back a thousand fucking steps right now. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down and put an easy smile on my face that I sure as hell don’t feel.
Lucy sighs and closes her eyes briefly. “Fisher, this is Stanford Wallis, Stanford, this is Jefferson Fisher.”
Dipshit actually has the foresight to remove his arm from Lucy’s shoulders when she says my full name.
“Wow, so you’re Jefferson Fisher. I’ve heard a lot about you from your father,” he says, his eyes widening as he holds his hand out to me.
I grab onto it, squeezing it a little harder than I probably should, but what the fuck? “That’s right, Stanley, I’m Jefferson Fisher. My friends call me Fisher, so you can call me Jefferson.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Lucy mutters quietly.
“Actually, it’s Stanford. No one calls me Stanley,” he laughs nervously.
Gripping his hand just hard enough to feel his bones rub together, I drop it quickly and nod. “Good to know, Stanley.”
I bring my drink up to my lips, pausing before taking a sip. Lucy eyes the drink and I don’t miss the look of worry that flashes across her face. She might not want to, but she still cares, and it warms my cold fucking soul and stops me from shoving my fist into Nancy Stanley’s mouth.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s just sparkling water,” I tell her softly.
Her eyes jerk away from the glass and meet mine. She scrunches up her nose and it takes every single muscle in my body to keep myself from closing the space between us and kissing that damn nose.
“What you drink is no business of mine,” she says flippantly.
I might have believed her a year ago. Sobriety is nothing if not a great excuse to think clearly for once and see the truth of what’s happening right in front of you. For instance, Lucy keeps running her fingers through her hair and then fidgeting with the neckline of her dress. I know for a fact she does that whenever she’s nervous. The first time I kissed her, I had to hold her hands down at her sides so she’d stop messing with her hair. On our wedding day, she kept tugging up the white, strapless gown even though that thing molded her perfect body like a glove and wasn’t going anywhere. I still make Lucy nervous, and that’s all the information I need for tonight.
“Well, we really do have to be going,” Lucy states, grabbing onto Fuckford’s hand and tugging him towards the door.
“Hey, Stanny-boy, can you give us just a second?”
He looks between Lucy and I, raising his eyebrows at her questioningly. Lucy runs her fingers through her hair and then nods.
“It’s fine. Go on outside. I’ll meet you there in a second,” she tells him.
I lift my glass in his direction in a silent toast and smirk. He leans down and kisses her cheek without taking his eyes off of me before backing away and out the front door.
“Was that really necessary?” Lucy asks in irritation, bringing her eyes back to me and away from the door where Stick-Up-His-Assford just exited.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She folds her arms across her chest, pushing her tits up through the deep vee until I can see so much creamy cleavage that my mouth waters. I quickly toss back the rest of my drink, clinking my glass down on the table next to us.
“Stop calling him Stanley and stop trying to piss all over me like I’m your property!”
My dick instantly springs to life inside my jeans. I can’t help it. When Lucy gets fired up, I get turned on. It’s like some Pavlov’s dog shit.
“You’re seriously going to pick some fuck named Stanf
ord over me?” I ask indignantly.
She takes a step forward, moving so close that I can feel the heat from her body and smell the coconut on her skin from the suntan oil she uses. No matter how hard she tries to wash it off, that scent always lingers on her and it’s the best damn smell in the world. She always smells like summer and beaches and fresh ocean air.
“I’m not picking anyone. You walked away, Fisher. You’re the one who made the choice; I just had to go along with it.”
My hand moves of its own accord, my fingers sliding through the long bangs that hang down over one of her eyes. I brush them out of the way and hear her intake of breath when I inch even closer, moving right into her personal space and pressing my body against hers. I feel her thighs against mine and her breasts brushing against my chest. Every breath she takes pushes them into me and my hands shake with the need to cup them in my palms, feel the weight of them in my hands and run my thumbs over her nipples. This feels worse than being in detox after I quit drinking. It’s worse than the night sweats and the stomach cramps, worse than puking up my guts and blinding headaches that made me want to shove a knife in my eye. I want this woman more than any drug or bottle of booze, and being without her is almost killing me.
“I chose wrong, Lucy. You have to know that. You have to feel that,” I whisper as I stare into her ocean blue eyes.
Her eyelids flutter closed and she leans into me.
“Tell me you still feel it,” I beg softly, moving my face closer to hers, focusing on her lips, already able to taste their sweetness on my tongue and their wet warmth against my own.
“FISHER! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE! IT’S YOUR TURN!”