by LJ Evans
They all stared at her.
“I’m going to go get set up.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Seth insisted.
She just nodded and waved a hand before taking off into the back. She didn’t want to know what they said about her when they left. She didn’t want to hear the discussion about her failures. She already knew them.
* * *
PJ’s hands shake even now thinking about it all. Thinking about Michael and how that was just the beginning when it should have been the end. And it makes her glad that she’s in New York. It makes her glad that she’s thousands of miles away.
But her heart screams at her. Because she isn’t completely glad. She misses Seth. She misses his hands and his grumpy attitude and his protectiveness. Even though it had all ended up making her feel like a caged wild animal, and upon seeing the cage door open, she’d bolted, because that’s what wild animals are good at.
But sometimes, wild animals find their way back to the people who tried to tame them. So maybe, maybe she’ll find her way back to Seth and her family. But not yet. She isn’t ready. She’s still trying to forgive herself for everything that happened. She’s still trying to find a way to be wild and tame at the same time.
Misunderstood
Letter Eight
“Intentions Good… I should have shut my mouth… As the words slipped off my tongue… Damn, misunderstood.”
-Bon Jovi
DEAR BELLA,
It’s taken me a while to write this letter. I think you know why. I still get filled with anger and pain when I think about it all. How I found out about that shithead stalking you. Threatening you. Even now, even though I know how it all ends, I still want to fucking hit something. I want to punch his face until there’s nothing left but blood and crushed bones. But, I know that won’t help you. And I know that won’t help me. I think that’s progress. Maybe you won’t see it the same way.
It eased my twisted gut slightly when I found out that you hadn’t told Liv and Justice either. That they’d been in the dark as much as I had. I didn’t get it then why it would embarrass you. How was it your fault that some loser mistook stalking for worshipping? Hell, I was a loser worshipping you. Hell, I think I’d even threatened to stalk you. And none of that was your fault. I want to believe that I’m not that kind of guy, but I have my own doubts because from the moment you’d hit me with your pixie dust, I hadn’t been able to get you out of my head. You lived there. You lived in my art. You lived in my bones.
You thought I’d been giving you the silent treatment after Claire told me what was going on. After we’d taken her to her car, but I wasn’t trying to be childish. I was trying to stay calm. I was trying not to drive around the city until I found him and pounded him into the ground. I was trying not to end up at the bar on the corner of the street with a bottle of Jack in my hands. I was trying to focus on you. To make sure that you were okay.
It took every ounce of me to do that. So words, words were just something I couldn’t fucking do at that moment. I’m sorry if I was a jackass about it, but that’s where I was at. I should have told you all of that. But, talking has never been easy for me. You knew that, and you still said you loved me. I’m not sure why or how, and I hope that you still do even though you’ve already been gone almost three God awful months.
When you walked away from Liv, Justice, and I that first day you went back to work, we all stared at each other. Unsure of anything but one thing, we were all determined to keep you safe. You hated that because you hated needing anyone for anything. You hated relying on others. You hated feeling like you were in someone’s debt.
“Thanks for bringing her in,” Justice said begrudgingly. He didn’t want to thank me.
“Make sure the shithead doesn’t get anywhere near her,” I told him. I meant it as a plea. But you know me and pleas. They always come out as demands.
“How’s the hand?” Justice said because he’d seen the bruises.
I shrugged. Again, they were nothing compared to other bruises I’d had in my life. They were nothing to the knife I felt tearing at my heart at the thought of leaving you at the gym even though I knew you were with others who would look after you.
“Thank you,” Liv said with a weak smile.
Her thanks felt genuine. I looked away and then back.
“For taking care of PJ. She… She doesn’t let many people take care of her.”
And you didn’t. Don’t. It’s part of the reason you’re on the other side of the country. You don’t want to be taken care of, but I can’t stop wanting to take care of you. When will you understand that that doesn’t mean you have a price tag?
I just turned and left.
I went back to the studio and pounded out some more art. I stopped long enough to put dinner in the oven and then drove back to get you. I was prepared to do that for the rest of my life if you would let me.
I didn’t think about how that would make you feel. Caged. Jailed. Like a little kid instead of a grown up. I just thought of it as love. But it was a selfish love because if you really love someone, you have to set them free just like that fucking saying goes. Do you see that I’ve done that? You’re in New York. That old saying also says that if they love you, they’ll come back. I’m still waiting to see if that part of the saying is true. I guess I’m waiting to see if your love is true.
* * *
I’m sorry. I told you I’d have to apologize a lot once you’d entered my life. And I’m still trying to get used to it. I’m trying to make it so that I don’t even do the stupid shit that makes me have to apologize, but it seems to be an uphill battle.
The next day, the cops returned while you were getting ready for work. When I answered the door, they asked if you were there. I nodded and left them in the kitchen while I went to get you.
“The cops are here.”
You looked surprised. And shaken. I wanted to wrap you in my arms and not let you out ever again. I know. Selfish bastard.
We all sat down at the table, and I pulled you onto my lap just in case. Just in case you needed me, but also because I needed to keep you close.
“We met with Michael Cavanaugh.”
“Yes?”
“He denies having written any of the texts. Was upset that you thought he’d do that sort of thing.”
You grimaced as if you felt bad for the schmuck. As if you believed what he’d told them. I snorted. “Of course, he’d deny it.”
Officer Williams nodded his graying head. “Yes, we didn’t expect him to own up to it even if it was him.”
“He was pretty upset though. Said if you continued to harass him like this he’d file assault charges. Said he had pictures and witnesses from that night at the bar. He says people would be willing to testify for him.”
“Oh my God,” you breathed out, and I rubbed your arms trying to soothe you.
“That’s why we think he’s actually the one,” Officer Taft said.
“Wh-what?” You stammered and my arms tightened around your waist.
“Well, it’s typical retaliation. If you get me in trouble for what I did, I’ll get you in trouble for what you did. Also, it’s his way of feeling like he still has power over you,” Tate responded.
The thought of him having any power over you, over us, made me want to bust something again. Made me crave a glass of something cold that wasn’t iced tea. Made me want to strangle him until there was nothing left.
“Unfortunately, there’s nothing else we can really do without more proof. I’d just say, be smart, be aware, and let us know if anything else occurs.”
“Okay,” you said quietly.
“Mr. Carmen,” Officer Williams said, and I wanted to punch him as well as the stupid shithead because I hated being called by my father’s name. You know that, they didn’t. “You’re not concerned that this has anything to do with you?”
“Excuse me?” you said, surprised.
And honestly, I was surprised too. I d
idn’t get where he was going. I just stared at him because I didn’t know what he expected me to say.
“You do know that your father was recently released from prison, right?”
And that hit me to my core. The thought that my father was out of prison. That his fucking fifteen-year sentence for manslaughter, assault, and drug trafficking had been reduced to six years served. It was like the whole world was conspiring to head me towards the liquor store. How was six years enough time for letting your wife die of a drug overdose because you didn’t want the EMTs in your apartment with your drugs? The same ones that had ended her life.
I’ve always said that life isn’t fair. It isn’t. It’s shit. That’s why I had to hold on to the few good things it threw at me. Like you.
I don’t know how long everyone waited for my response. I felt like I’d gone to New York and back by the time I was able to school my emotions into a reply.
“No, I didn’t know that,” I finally answered, and you must have sensed that I was not myself because you dove in to change the subject while my head still reeled with images of my crazy father with wild eyes as he chased me down a junk filled corridor.
“But these texts started before I’d even met Seth,” you told them.
“You two have only been together a couple months?” Taft said with surprise.
You showed your embarrassment in your face like you always do. I wasn’t sure if Taft had meant it as a good thing or a bad thing. Did we seem so in love that no one would doubt that we were a couple or was she just surprised that we’d rushed into living together? I didn’t give a rat’s ass what she thought, but I knew you did. I couldn’t get you to stop caring about what others thought. Why? It’s your life. Rather, it’s our life.
“Well then, we can just leave it there for now.”
Both the officers rose, and you walked them to the door. I heard you thanking them for their time. I was still stuck in a chair in the kitchen trying to get a grip on the whole screwed up world. When you came back, I was still trying to process all the information. I was still trying to shake off the urge to drink.
“Seth?”
I knew you’d want to talk. But I couldn’t. Not without a drink in my hand, and I was determined not to go there, so I left instead. “I’m going for a run.”
I changed and went out to the beach where I could run until my brain was forced to focus on giving air to my lungs and carbs to my muscles instead of thought. To where I didn’t have to fight off the desire for barley and wheat in their liquid form.
And I knew we’d left more words unspoken. More of our pasts that we’d left unresolved between us, but it wasn’t something I could battle that day along with the addiction. One battle at a time. I’m sorry that I chose the addiction over you.
When I got home, and realized you’d driven to work without me, I wanted to bust a hole in the wall because I’d let my addiction lead my life one more time.
I called and you answered.
“You left!” I wasn’t angry with you, I was angry with myself but I know it didn’t sound that way.
“I had to get to work, and you needed to let out some frustration.”
“Did someone walk you into the gym?”
“I’m not going to live my life like I’m a two-year-old,” you fired back.
“Is he there?”
“God no! I think us calling the police was enough for him to get the message even if he was the one sending the texts.”
You didn’t like using the word stalker. I noticed you skipped it a lot, but he was. And you kept saying “if” when we both knew there was no “if”. You weren’t stupid. Neither was I.
“Justice is going to walk you to your car.”
“He’s already insisted, but I’m seriously not going to live that way.”
“For the love of God, put aside that goddamn pride of yours for two seconds and let the people who love you make sure you’re safe.”
I think the amount of words I’d strung together surprised you as much as the content because you were quiet for a moment, but then you gave in.
“Okay.”
But when you hung up, I texted Liv. She’d given me her number the day before. It was the fifth number I added to my phone. She promised me that Justice wouldn’t let you walk out alone. And it was a good thing he hadn’t.
When Liv called me at the time you were supposed to be getting back, I panicked. I was a fucking giant bastard having a fucking panic attack. Shaking like I was going through withdrawals. Barely able to breathe.
“Where’s PJ?”
“She’s here. At our house,” Liv said and her voice was unsteady.
“What the fuck happened?”
“There was a note on her car.”
“I’m on my way.”
And I hung up even though she started to protest. I didn’t care what she thought. My only desire was to get to you.
By the time I got to Liv and Justice’s, the police had come and gone. They’d taken the note with them. But, Liv had taken a photo of it.
My first priority wasn’t the note. My first priority was you. You were twisting the label of a beer bottle in your hands, and when you looked up at me, there was fear in your eyes for the first time. Not embarrassment. Just straight up fear.
And when I got to you, you all but jumped into my arms and then broke. You cried. It was the first time I’d seen you really cry. You’d had some tears roll down your cheeks that first day we were together over Liv and the baby, but this was you really crying. Sobbing.
God, Bella. It shattered me. Made me want to cry and I never cry. Never. Not over my mom. Not over Cam.
I held on tight to you and looked over your head to the two pairs of eyes in the room that were watching us. Liv sank into the chair, and Justice came up behind her, rubbing her shoulders as much to reassure her as to give himself something to do. I understood that.
After you’d sobbed for a few minutes, you quieted, but I still hung on to you. Afraid that you would somehow be more torn up by this than the other things in your life.
You finally looked up at me and your huge Bambi eyes were red and swollen and I wanted to kill him all over again. Put him in the ground where the worms and soil could do more damage to his body than I ever could.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“Don’t fucking apologize,” I growled.
It made you smile. No one had really ever smiled at my growls before. Not even Cam when she knew how to sass me out of my bad mood. Your smiling meant you knew me. That I wasn’t really growling at you.
“Your shirt’s drenched.”
“It’s just a fucking shirt.”
“You love that word don’t you?”
“What word?”
“Fuck.”
And I guess it’s true. I don’t really even register that I use it most of the time. It’s a useless adjective I guess because I throw it in as much as other people throw in commas or extra exclamation marks.
“I’m gonna go wash my face,” you said.
“Okay.”
But I hadn’t let you go. And you smiled and pushed against my chest so that I would finally remove my arms. We had people in front of us otherwise I might not have let you go until I’d dug my skin back into yours where we always fit and the rest of the world disappeared.
When you’d gone down the hall, I turned to Liv. “What did it say?”
She handed me her phone.
My Beloved Patterson,
I’ve given you time. Time to see that the loser is not your one true love. How can he be when I am here cherishing you? I won’t continue to let him use you. Like the others have. I intend for you to be mine. You were always supposed to be mine. I didn’t get my turn.
Our love nest is almost ready. I just have to add a few more things for it to be perfect. Then I’ll show it to you. There’s so many little surprises that I’ve built in just for you. I’ll be able to keep you with me always right where you belong. Soon
Patterson. Soon.
Forever Yours.
I sank into the chair.
“He’s crazy.”
“I’m not sure it’s Michael,” Liv said.
“What?” I told her.
“It’s… it just doesn’t sound like him.”
“Fucking crazy?”
Justice finally sank down into a chair. “Whoever it is, he’s talking about keeping her somewhere.”
He was angry and scared. We all were. If nothing else, I was glad that it had finally scared you too. Not because I wanted you to feel like you had to hide behind me. It wasn’t that. It was because I needed you to take this seriously. To see it as more than just some rambling romantic writing love notes.
“What did the police say?” I asked.
“They were going to try to get fingerprints, but even if they do, which they doubt they will, it would be hard to find a match if the guy isn’t in the system.”
“Is Michael in the system? Did you have him fingerprinted because he works with kids?”
They nodded. At least there was that.
The doorbell rang and then the door opened, I kicked the chair back in my urgency to get up, to protect you, but Locke’s voice rang out, making my tension ease slightly, “Hey, it’s me!”
And then his voice was followed by his body and another body. Another male body. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see any new males coming into our lives.
Locke was in his typical suit, and the guy with him wore his own equally tailored one. It fit him like a slim glove. He was almost as tall as Locke, but thinner and darker. Younger. More my age than Locke’s. He looked oddly familiar to me. Like I should know him. It tugged at a memory that I couldn’t slide into place yet.
The guy put his hands in his pockets, slightly ill-at-ease, but not enough to bolt. He just stood there while Locke asked about you.
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s okay. We’ll make sure she is,” Justice said with a grim nod.
You came out of the hall bathroom at that moment, and Locke hugged you tight. I hated anyone touching you, and even though it was irrational, I’ll give myself some slack because under the circumstances, it was warranted.