Hushed

by Kelley York

  Archer couldn’t stand the thought of him looking away. He needed this—the one last string keeping him grounded. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Evan gave a reluctant smile. “A therapist could answer that kind of thing better than I could. But I hate seeing her do this to you over and over again—reeling you in, throwing you out. I know letting someone go isn’t easy when they’ve been your whole world for so long.”

  Let Vivian go? Archer couldn’t begin to fathom how to do that. Sure, she said she didn’t want to see him anymore, but he didn’t really think it would last. Eventually, she’d have enough of Mick or—more likely—Mickey would get bored and leave her, and she’d come crawling back for Archer to pick up the pieces. When she came to ask him for his help, how did he tell her no?

  “You’re shaking.” Evan touched his face again. Archer ducked his head. Such a fleeting touch, but when Evan began to draw away, he had to fight the urge to grab his hand and keep it there. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside.”

  He allowed himself to be ushered up the beach. Inside, his feet hurt the second they started to warm up. Walking took a bit of effort, his insides still simmering with the intake of alcohol. He wasn’t drunk, he didn’t think, but buzzed. Definitely buzzed. What a fitting term for it. The world did seem a little buzz-y.

  Evan didn’t appear any worse for wear even though he’d drank twice as much. He pulled back the bed covers, waited while Archer got out of his coat and shirt and crawled beneath.

  Archer buried his face into a pillow, breathing deep. He hoped Evan didn’t close the doors. Part of him wanted to open his eyes and see what Evan was doing, moving around the room, but all the energy had drained right out of him. The wine his body was so unused to, the flurry of thoughts and emotions… All he wanted was to shove it all outside of himself and hide beneath the blankets and Evan’s warmth—which he already severely missed.

  The mattress shifted with added weight and Evan slid into bed alongside him. Archer wavered in that beautiful, dreamy place between asleep and awake, where nothing felt real and yet too-real all in the same breath. He drifted closer, searching for more of that comfortable heat, and Evan welcomed him with open arms. Fingertips trailed the length of his spine, from the small of his back to the nape of his neck and back again. Comfortable. Comforting.

  “Don’t go,” he murmured.

  It wasn’t until Evan whispered, “I won’t,” that Archer was finally able to sleep.

  Sunday, October 12th

  Thirty-two. Those were the number of times Archer caught himself going to check his phone only to remember he didn’t have it on him. And yet Sunday morning, all he did was dread going home to see his cell sitting beside his bed.

  What’s worse? he asked himself. Finding it flooded with messages, or finding it empty?

  He dragged his feet all morning. Seemed like Evan did, too. They took their time packing and eating breakfast, and left the hotel only because housekeeping came knocking to kick them out.

  They were silent on the ride home. Archer occupied himself staring out the window. Already he longed for the empty beach and Evan’s body curled up beside him. He wanted to reach out and grab hold of whatever this was between them. This feeling he couldn’t put a name to that his mind whispered of desperately. Too close, too close.

  Evan parked by Archer’s building and followed him upstairs and inside. Archer almost didn’t want to go in. What if Vivian had shown up, wondering why he wasn’t returning her calls? But the apartment was as silent and dark as when he’d left. He abandoned his bag on the couch, shed his jacket, and stood in the center of the living room, lost with what to do with himself. Evan watched him from near the front door.

  “Thanks. For going with me, I mean.” Evan shuffled his feet, hands shoved into his back pockets. “We should do it again sometime.”

  “I’d like that.” Scrambling for reasons to get Evan to stay got him nowhere. He hated this desperate, needy feeling. “Next time, though, it’s my treat.”

  Some of the uncertainty in Evan’s eyes ebbed away. The smile he gave was a little surer. “Deal. So… I’ll see you later?” When Archer nodded, Evan turned to leave. He stopped just short of opening the door, lingered there, and turned back around.

  “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

  Archer stretched desperately for words, but could only nod mutely.

  Please don’t go.

  But Even was gone and he was alone again, staring into the darkness of the apartment.

  Every movement felt forced as he gathered up his bag and coat and put them away in the bedroom, purposely keeping his eyes anywhere but the bedside table. He meticulously unpacked and put away any clothes that were still clean, tossing the rest into his laundry basket. Putting his toothbrush and other toiletries back in the bathroom. He slid his bag under the bed and just like that, all evidence of his trip was gone.

  Then what’s missing?

  He felt like he’d forgotten something important. Hairbrush, clothes, wallet… What else had he brought?

  The flashing of his cell phone finally caught his attention and he stared at it like it might bite if he picked it up. When the screen read ten missed calls and only one text message, he remembered exactly what was missing.

  Vivian: Call me. It’s about mom. Sent: 2:10 a.m.

  He’d forgotten the dolphin at the hotel.

  Monday, October 13th

  The overhead lights seared through his eyelids but didn’t keep him from dozing off. The uncomfortable chair didn’t deter his sleepiness any, either. Only the dropping of his head and the way it automatically jerked back up woke him up over and over again.

  No one bothered him in the small square lobby off the hallway where Marissa’s new room was located. Not at ten past midnight. Cardiac arrest, Vivian said. He still hadn’t heard anything from the doctors. He saw Vivian no more than a minute or two before a nurse escorted her off to visit her mom. That had been three hours ago.

  At twelve-thirty she appeared from around the corner, jacket in her arms and her eyes red and puffy from crying. She looked oddly subdued, though. Archer stood.

  “Well…?”

  “Pneumonia,” she said numbly. “Her body can’t fight it off. They’re trying, but they just…don’t know. If it’s not the pneumonia that kills her, it’ll be her heart or her kidneys.”

  If Marissa wasn’t doing well when the doctors were optimistic, what could he gather when they didn’t know? His gut twisted sharply. He ran a hand over his face. “Can I go in?”

  “They’re trying to keep her isolated as much as they can. The more people she’s exposed to…” Vivian sniffed and wiped at her eyes, staring down at the floor.

  Archer’s jaw clenched. “Why did you call me down here if I’m not even allowed to see her?” It was stupid to ask. He knew why, but he wanted to hear her say it. Mickey wasn’t there. Probably couldn’t be bothered to come along.

  “Because I…didn’t want to be alone.” She had the grace to look embarrassed. Archer wanted to feel satisfied, but he didn’t. He felt miserable.

  “You were cool with being alone when you had Mick to hold your hand,” he said icily and turned to walk away.

  “Archer!” Her shoes clacked on the linoleum as she hurried to catch up. “You’re not even going to give me a chance to explain?”

  “What is there to explain?” He didn’t stop. Forced his feet to keep moving, propelled on by his anger. “Either you decided you didn’t want to see me anymore, or Mickey decided it for you. Either way, far be it for me to disrespect your wishes.”

  “Archer.” Vivian grabbed his coat and he whirled around so quickly she staggered back, cringing. It did nothing for his temper.

  “Don’t you flinch at me,” he hissed. “I just might be the only man who’s never raised a hand at you and you have the nerve to act like I scare you? You made your wants clear, Vivian. I’m out of here.”

  “I’m sorry, all right?!” Her e
yes pinched shut, but it didn’t stop the tears from squeezing through and slipping down her flushed cheeks. “You were right. You were totally right about everything. Mickey was great at first. He was wonderful the first few days and then he just…completely lost it. He took my phone and threw it in the pool. I had to get a new one and hide it from him. From my own boyfriend! He told me if things were going to work between us I had to sacrifice something, too.”

  “And that sacrifice was me. Gee, thanks.” What would she think, he wondered, if she knew about everything he had sacrificed for her. A clean conscience, for instance.

  “It was stupid and wrong and I’m sorry.” Her small hands clutched at his shirt, nails grazing the skin beneath. He couldn’t look at her while she cried. Vivian sagged against him and pressed her face against his chest. “What do I do, Archer? What do I do if Mom dies? How do I keep Mickey away? I’m so lost, I just…” she trailed off, letting her tears soak into his shirt, into his heart.

  Archer shut his eyes, struggling to take himself back to twenty-four hours ago, in a hotel room miles away.

  “Please. Please, I need your help,” she begged.

  He didn’t know how to tell her no. Was it possible this time would be different?

  “I’m tired of playing hero, Vivian.” Any energy he had to sound angry had abandoned him. He was so tired. “If I help you…it’s going to be with your promise that this was the last time you go back to him.” Vivian looked up at him. Her lower lip trembled. Archer steeled his resolve as best as he could. “I mean it. I’ll go home with you and I’ll change the damned locks myself if I have to.”

  At first, he thought she wouldn’t agree. She’d tell him never mind and go on her way. But Vivian sniffed and wiped at her eyes, nodding once. And for a moment, he thought he saw the same childlike adoration in her gaze she used to have…a sharp reminder of what he thought he’d lost.

  But when Vivian put her arms around him, it felt wrong.

  §

  He hadn’t missed sleeping on the couch.

  Much less Vivian’s couch.

  Knowing Mickey could show up at any second and beat down the door wasn’t a comforting thought, either. But he wasn’t ready to have Viv staying at his place again. Not where Evan could drop in.

  Archer hated feeling so guilty. Wanting to help Vivian, knowing Evan was right. Again and again, he would come to her rescue. Again and again, she would hurt him. If not with Mickey, then with the next guy who caught her eye.

  At least it was only one night. Tomorrow, the locks would be changed and he could go home. He chose not to comment when the landlord had no idea what Archer was talking about when he asked about Vivian’s previous request for a lock change. Mickey hadn’t called or come by; Archer had to assume everything was fine. Vivian couldn’t hide behind him forever and he wasn’t far away if she needed him.

  “Archer?”

  His eyes fluttered open, momentarily blinded by the light from the hallway. Vivian stood there in a t-shirt that was too short to serve as a nightgown, as proven by the fact he could tell her panties were pink. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again. “What?”

  He heard her hesitation. The whisper of bare feet on carpet. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in here with me? My couch is smaller than yours.”

  True. It was narrower and not nearly as comfortable, but he’d make do. “I’m all right.”

  “Okay…”

  Still, she lingered. She’s lonely, he knew. No surprise there, but it didn’t make him stupid enough to share a bed with her.

  “Do you think we could hang out tomorrow night?” she asked.

  Archer sighed, rolling over to put his back to her. “What, like at The Grove?”

  “No. Like…us. Me and you.”

  He stared at the cream-colored couch cushions in front of his face. What is she getting at? “…Okay.”

  She shifted and he tensed, but it didn’t sound like she was coming closer. “I thought about some of the stuff you said to me the last few weeks and you’re right. You’re my best friend; you’re the only person who’s always been there for me.” She paused. “I just want to spend time with you like we used to. I don’t want to grow apart.”

  His resolve crumbled. How impossible it was for him to stay angry or distant. He wanted to get up and gather her into his arms, apologize for making her think he’d ever leave her…but he stayed right where he was, trying to barricade himself against the effect her words had. “We can go out if you want,” he said.

  Vivian went to bed, and Archer hoped to God he had the willpower to not screw everything up. There were only two names left on his list. He needed to take care of it, and soon. He needed to get the Vivian he knew and loved back. Maybe then he could be free of this gnawing guilt.

  Tuesday, October 14th

  Needing a few moments of silence, Archer headed home after classes to take a nap before his outing with Viv. Something told him he would need the rest.

  He couldn’t sleep. Instead he called the hospital to check on Marissa, then stared at his phone for the better part of thirty minutes. Contemplating calling Evan. Not sure what to say to him if he did.

  As it turned out, he didn’t need to. Evan called him. The ringing jolted him out of the half-asleep state he’d slipped into and he answered before the second ring.

  “…Hello?”

  “Hey.” Immediately, Archer noticed Evan’s tone was off. “How are things?”

  “Fine,” he said, cautious. Trying to reflect back on whether there was something he’d done or said that warranted that kind of tone. “What’s up? Is everything all right?”

  “Sure, everything’s fine. Just got out of class.” A pause. “Vivian said you two were going out tonight.”

  Good thing he was already lying down or his legs would’ve buckled. “What?”

  “I told you I had a class with her. Not sure why she felt the need to tell me, but…”

  Damn her. Archer didn’t know why either. She and Evan were on cordial-enough terms, but not enough that Viv would’ve announced to him she was going out with anyone. Let alone him. He didn’t know what to say. Everything, even the honest truth, felt like an admission of guilt. “She told me she was sorry and didn’t want us to drift apart. She also promised it was over with her and Mick. He wouldn’t even go see Marissa in the hospital the other day…” He trailed off. Maybe he should shut up. Maybe he was making it worse.

  “Look, Archer. You don’t have to justify your actions to me. Do what you want. Maybe I should’ve stayed out of it to begin with.”

  No…

  “Her mom’s dying. I can’t just–” he grit his teeth, “if she’s willing to try…to really try this time, shouldn’t I give her the chance?”

  Evan was silent. When he spoke his voice was soft, defeated. “Yeah, sure. Just…hit me up when you’re free.”

  It wasn’t a victory that made him feel any better. His heart sank. “Saturday…do you want to do something then?” It occurred to Archer he’d never asked Evan to go do anything before. Usually it was the other way around.

  “I guess. Give me a call later and let me know. Bye.” He hung up before Archer had the chance to say it back.

  §

  Vivian showed up that night wearing a knee-length dress, heels and a shawl, with her hair pinned up, looking refreshed and better than she had in awhile. She posed in the living room, turning full circle. “Do I look okay?”

  Archer fumbled with the zipper on his jacket, trying to keep his eyes on her face instead of the V-neck showing off more cleavage than was necessary. He wanted to grab her and press a kiss there, just a few inches below her collarbone. “Stupid question. You’re beautiful and you know it.”

  “No, I don’t.” She let her arms drop with a pout, stepping over to nudge his hands away so she could do up the last few buttons of his shirt. When she was done, she smoothed her hands up his chest. He stared down at them, transfixed. “Besides, I like hearing you say it.�
��

  Archer lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, helpless. “You’re beautiful.”

  Vivian’s face lit up. She drew him down and planted a kiss against his cheek. “You’re not looking so bad yourself, handsome.” She whirled and danced away, out of his reach.

  He tried to center himself and shove aside the feel of her hands, her mouth, the curve of her breasts pressed against him when she’d leaned in. His weekend had been spent with enough awkward moments with Evan; he didn’t need a repeat performance.

  They took his car at her insistence. His eyes kept scanning the dashboard, the floorboards, in search of any remaining blood. Vivian crossed her legs and messed with the radio, oblivious.

  Being in his car reminded him, though… “Did you hear about Richter Samuels?”

  Viv’s fingers stopped on the buttons. She cocked her head, frowning. “Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you about that. How’d you find out?”

  “Detective came by my house.” Nonchalant, calm. No sense in letting her know how nervous he was. “Said he was murdered.”

  “Same here.” She settled on a radio station and sat back, staring out the window. “He acted like I was a suspect or something, the asshole. The world’s better off.”

  Vivian, a suspect. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “What all did you tell him?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. Just told him I hated the guy for personal reasons.”

  You probably weren’t a suspect before you opened your mouth… He bit back a groan. Still, there was nothing tying Vivian to the crime. He could relax. “Does it make you happy?”