I pressed my lips together, remaining silent. When I pulled up in front of the cabin, I told her to wait in the truck. Running through the driving rain, I went inside and began checking the appliances, and when I turned around she was standing there, arms crossed.
“Sebastian. Stop it.”
“I fucking can’t,” I blurted, gripping the edge of the counter. You didn’t check the toaster.
“Then tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been acting strange for weeks now, and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know what to do when you shut me out like this. I feel helpless!” She was wearing a fitted black coat and a new pair of leopard print high heels. Even furious with me, she was beyond beautiful. Too beautiful for you.
Turning, my head, I stared out the window. I couldn’t look at her. You fucking coward.
“God, it’s like you’re two people,” she said, starting to cry. “The one that takes me to bed every night and says such sweet things and makes me feel so hopeful and good and safe, and this one that’s just—”
“Crazy?” I finished, braving a sideways glance at her. “Told you.”
“Confused,” she said, shaking her head. “I have no idea what’s going on with you, but unless you decide to let me in on it, I can’t help you!”
Help me. Stay with me. Don’t go. But I said nothing.
“God, you’re so maddening!” She shook her hands in the air. “Why won’t you talk to me? It’s like you want me to leave you!”
I swallowed, part of me desperate to fall on my knees and beg her to stay and the other part anxious to get this over with. You always knew she’d go, didn’t you? At least let it be on your terms.
“Christ, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re doing all this to drive me away so you can hate yourself for it afterward.” She shook her head. “Why do you think you don’t deserve to be happy?”
“Because I don’t!” I finally exploded. “I’m not right in the head, Skylar. I’m fucked up.” The truth gnawed painfully at my gut, and I felt no relief in voicing it.
Tears dripped from her eyes. “My God. You’re so intent on punishing yourself for something you have no control over, you can’t see straight,” she said. “Have you been going to therapy?”
I looked away again.
“Look at me. Have you?”
Reluctantly, shamefully, my eyes met hers. “No.”
Drawing herself up, she wiped her tears and put both hands over her heart. “You don’t know what this is doing to me. I love you, Sebastian, so much it kills me to see you hurting. I want to make everything better for you, and it breaks my heart that I can’t. And I want a life with you, but I can’t be the only one trying to make it happen.”
“This is a life with me, don’t you get it?” I snapped, hiding behind anger. “This is who I am.”
“Bullshit. This isn’t who you are, and you know it.” She pointed a finger at me. “You’re not an asshole, and you’re not a freak, and you’re not a monster.” She took a step closer and the fresh tears in her eyes had my chest in a vise. “You’re a beautiful, brilliant, complicated man, Sebastian Pryce. And I adore you. But if you want to suffer here alone with your tortured soul because you think for some fucked up reason you deserve it, fine. Choose suffering over me. But I can’t watch. It will destroy me.”
She turned and walked out the door, and I watched through the front window as she grabbed her purse from the truck and got into her car, not even trying to shield herself from the downpour. Instead of driving off in a huff, she sat sobbing in the driver’s seat for a few minutes, which was even worse, and my hands gripped the cement countertop so hard I thought I might crack it.
Eventually she left, and I was so mad at myself I nearly put a fist through the kitchen window.
Voices warred inside me.
Go get her back, you asshole.
Let her go. She’s better off without you.
You love her. You’ll be miserable without her.
So what? It’s better than making her miserable.
Women like her don’t have to give second chances, you know. Get yourself the fuck together and go after her.
I wanted to tear my hair out. Claw my eyes out. Shred the skin from my bones. I wanted to punish my body, castigate my brain for what it was making me think and feel. Even though I’d already been to the gym this morning, I went back and put myself through another grueling workout. Then I came back to the cabin, where everything reminded me of Skylar. The porch. The couch. The shower. The kitchen. The bedroom.
I made a sandwich but couldn’t even eat it because I saw the honey sticks next to the peanut butter in the pantry. The thought of her giving her honey-kisses to some other guy split my chest in two. I stood staring out the sliding glass door onto the rain-soaked patio, recalling the night last spring when I’d bought the chairs and the next day when she’d watched me put them together. The hammock was down now, but I could still see her lying there, still feel the way her body felt on mine when we’d lain in it together last summer. I looked at the dock, where she’d first told me she loved me. Fuck, why couldn’t I just be normal? Any other guy would have just bought the ring and proposed by now. A woman like her was one in a million.
My cell phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket. It was Skylar’s number.
Thank God. I didn’t even hesitate before pressing Accept. Even if she just wanted to yell at me, at least I’d hear her voice.
“Fuck. I’m such an asshole,” I croaked.
“What? Sebastian?”
My heart stopped. The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t Skylar’s. “Yes. Who is this?”
“It’s Natalie.”
Gray fog clouded my vision, and I steadied myself with one hand on the counter. Why was Natalie using Skylar’s phone to call me? Was she so mad she didn’t even want to hear my voice? Or had something happened to her? “What’s going on? Is Skylar OK?”
“She’s OK. But she had an accident.”
“Oh my God.” The room spun, and for a second I thought I might get sick. I caused it. I caused it. This time it’s real. “A car accident?”
“No. She slipped and fell on some wet cement stairs outside a restaurant. She broke her wrist and hit her head pretty good, but she’s fine now.”
“Jesus.” I grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged on it. So it wasn’t a car accident, but it was still your fault. She went to the restaurant alone and you should have been with her. “Where is she?”
“She’s at Munson. But she doesn’t want to see you.”
“What? Why?” You know why, you stupid fuck.
“I don’t know. She didn’t elaborate, and she’s exhausted and loopy from the pain meds, but when I asked if I should call you, she said no, she didn’t want to see you and that if I called you she was never speaking to me again.”
“Fuck that. I’m coming.” I looked around for my keys. I hated hospitals more than odd numbers, but nothing could keep me from her.
“No! Please don’t.” Her tone was desperate. “Look, I called you because I knew you’d want to know, and I’m guessing she’ll eventually speak to me again after I tell her I did, but really—she’s got a bad enough headache right now. Whatever’s going on with you guys will have to get sorted out another time.”
My throat was squeezed so tight I didn’t know if I could even talk anymore. “OK. Thanks.”
We hung up, and I considered my next move for less than two seconds.
Skylar was hurt. I needed to be near her.
Despite the rain, I drove fast, praying hard that Natalie had been truthful with me and that Skylar’s injuries weren’t worse than she claimed.
At Munson, I parked and raced into the lobby without even hesitating outside the doors. Looking around wildly, I spotted the info desk and charged up to it. Once I got Skylar’s room information, I headed for the elevators, my stomach churning a bit at the hospital smell in the halls. Forget that. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is her. I forced m
yself to inhale deeply. Again, and again, and again. After a minute, one elevator door opened and Natalie stepped out.
“Sebastian.” Her eyes went wide. “What are you doing here?”
I squared my shoulders. “You have to let me see her.”
“She’s finally sleeping. Please don’t go up there now.”
My posture deflated a little. “Are you sure she’s OK?”
“Yes.” She looked at me, chewing on her bottom lip. “You look awful. What’s going on with you guys?”
“I fucked things up.” I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, not sure why I’d just blurted that out to Skylar’s sister but oddly relieved that I had. “I fucked things up and now she’s hurt and it’s my fault.”
“What? She slipped and fell, Sebastian. She was wearing ridiculously high heels and it was raining. How can that be your fault?”
Tears formed and I pressed a thumb and two fingertips over my eyes, embarrassed. “It just is. I know it.”
“Good grief. Come on.” She took me by the elbow and turned me around. “Let’s go get a cup of coffee. It won’t be as good as mine, but maybe it’s drinkable.” I let her steer me down the hall and around two corners, then over to a table in the near empty cafeteria. Dejected, I sank into a chair. “Don’t move,” she said.
I sat with my head in my hands, and a few minutes later she came back with two steaming white styrofoam cups and set them on the table. God, could I drink out of a hospital styrofoam cup? My skin crawled. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She sat across from me. “Now spill. What happened?”
I shrugged and stared at my coffee. Where did I even begin?
She was quiet a minute, and I could feel her eyes on me. “I hope you don’t think she betrayed a confidence, but Skylar has mentioned your OCD to me.”
“I figured. I know you’re close.”
She picked up her coffee and blew across its surface. “Does this have anything to do with that?”
I sighed, feeling completely defeated. “Yes.”
More silence. “Do you have a therapist?”
“Yes. But I haven’t been honest with him about my relationship with Skylar. And I’ve been avoiding him for a month.”
“Why?”
I exhaled heavily. “Because when she told me she loved me, I relapsed, and I was too scared to admit it.”
She tilted her head. “Scared of what? Don’t you love her?”
I met her eyes. “Of course I love her. Look, I can’t even begin to explain the fucked up circuitry in my brain, but suffice it to say, I thought I was protecting her by saying nothing. By doing the things I did.” Solid thinking there, asshole.
Nodding slowly, she sipped her coffee. “What about now? Can you talk to him now?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if he can help me.” I swallowed hard against the bitter bile rising in my throat, so sick and tired of that voice in my head I wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t it just leave me the fuck alone? “I don’t know if anyone can help me.”
“I’m sorry.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Because Skylar is crazy in love with you, you know. Every other word out of her mouth is your name. And I don’t think she’s going to let you go.”
“I love her too. But she already left me, and she was right to do it.”
“Says who?”
The voice in my head. “Me.”
“You’re right. That is fucked up.” She sounded so much like Skylar, I looked up sharply. “Sorry if that’s harsh, but I agree with you. I’m the first person to say I think Sky’s a great catch, but she’s a handful too. Ever tried to share a bathroom with her? Good grief, she’s a slob. Makeup and hair shit everywhere. And her shoe collection—good grief! Those boxes! Good luck to any man who needs any closet space at all in her house.”
My lips tipped up a little. “Yeah. She does have a lot of shoes.”
“She’s a cover hog too. Ever notice that?”
I had, but it didn’t bother me. I’d subject myself to subzero temperatures before letting her be cold at night.
“And she’s pretty and all but have you ever seen her funny little ears? They stick way out from her head like a monkey’s.”
I found myself smiling at a memory—Skylar surfacing after jumping into the lake the first time we went swimming together, hands over her ears. I thought they were adorable, of course, but she hated them. “Yeah. But I actually like them.”
“What about the way she’s so obsessed with wine now? I never thought I’d get bored with wine, but Jesus, if I have to listen to her talk about vines and terroir and fruit on the palate any more, I’m going to strangle her.”
I straightened up, feeling the need to defend her. “She’s dedicated to her new job. I love that about her.”
“Well then, I’d suggest you try harder to get over feeling like you don’t deserve her, because believe me, all she wants is you, and any man that can put up with her bathroom mess and her closet hogging and cover stealing and fruit-on-the-palating and the Nixon ears…” She shrugged. “Seems like you guys should make this work.”
Miserable, I slumped back in my chair again and regarded Natalie. “Her faults are so small compared to mine. Mine drive us both crazy and they probably would for the rest of our lives.”
She tilted her head from side to side. “Maybe. Guess you won’t know until you try it. But nobody’s perfect, Sebastian. Give yourself a break.”
I sat there for a minute, my hands on the table, wondering what to do next. “She won’t even talk to me.”
She pressed her lips together. “She’s being stubborn. Of course she wants to see you, she just won’t say that. Her exact words were, ‘Not until he gets his shit together. And I can’t be the one to get it together for him.’”
I frowned. She was right about that—I had to fix this on my own, if I could. But I was so worried about her. “What about her injuries? They’re not serious?”
“No. Like I said, a broken wrist and a bump on the noggin, that’s all. Since she lost consciousness briefly, they’re keeping her for observation, but she seems fine.”
The thought of her slender wrist broken and a bump on her head infuriated and saddened me. I wished there was some way I could bear it all for her. “Is she in pain? Will her new insurance cover this? She just got benefits last month,” I worried.
Natalie scrunched up her face as she set down her cup. “Yeah, we’re waiting to hear. Our parents might have to help her out.”
My hand shot out and I grabbed her arm. “Please let me pay for it. I want to. I want to take care of her.” Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
I didn’t even feel that bad about counting it out. I’d have kept going, to infinity, but Natalie shook her head. “She’ll never let you.”
I set my elbows on the table and buried my head in my hands. I had so much work to do. So much ground to regain.
Natalie touched my wrist. “Go see your therapist, Sebastian. And try again. She’s worth it.”
“She is worth it.” I looked up at Natalie, totally sure of what I was saying. “She’s the one.”
I woke up to the sight of Natalie reading a magazine in the chair near my bed. “Hey,” I croaked.
“Hey. You’re up.” She set her magazine aside. “How do you feel?”
I made a face, tried to shift positions. “Haven’t been this sore since I fell off the mechanical bull. Achey. Wrist hurts.” I lifted my left arm gingerly. “God, I’m such a klutz. This really sucks.”
Natalie nodded sympathetically. “How’s your head?”
“Hurts. But still attached.” I tried to move my neck, which was stiff as hell. “How come you’re not at work?”
“I had Michael open for me.”
“Did you talk to Mia?”
“Yes. She and Lucas are bot
h very worried about you and said not to concern yourself with anything at Abelard. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mia came by here today, or by your house tomorrow, if they let you go. She wants to see you.”
I nodded, but that hurt, so I just lay still and moaned. “Uuuuuuugh, why did I have to wear those damn expensive shoes?”
Natalie laughed ruefully. “It was probably a damn expensive fall. Think your insurance will cover it?”
I groaned. “I hope so.”
“If it doesn’t, Mom and Dad will help you. Mom will be here shortly.” She was quiet for a second, fiddling with the hem of her hoodie. “Sebastian was here last night.”
At the sound of his name, my breath caught. “He was? He hates hospitals!” For a moment, I was sad I’d been so adamant with Natalie about not seeing him. He must have struggled to walk through those doors, but he did it. Maybe there’s hope.
“He offered to pay your hospital bill.”
“No. I don’t want his charity.” The offer was sweet, and so like him, but I’d never take him up on it. We were broken up right now, as far as I was concerned. The thought made my throat hurt. My chest. My heart. Everything.
“He was very upset. He wanted to see you.”
Carefully, I turned my head to look at my sister. I could tell from her voice there was more. “What else did he say?”
She shrugged. “Not much. Just that he’d messed up. He seemed to agree with you about getting his shit together.”
“Really? He talked to you about it?” Closing my eyes, I exhaled, scared to let myself be too optimistic but wondering if maybe the things I said last night had gotten through to him. The truth was, I didn’t want to be without him in my life, and I’d do what it took to help him—but he had to let me.
“I think he was going to talk to his therapist. He said he would.”
“He did? Thank God.” Relief eased some of my pain, at least the emotional grief. Going to therapy was the best first step. My eyes filled. “He’s so hard on himself. And I was really hard on him. But I love him—and he doesn’t understand how frustrating it is for me to see him struggling and not know what’s in his head.”
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