Shattered Beliefs

by Maggie Jane Schuler

  His unusually stiff posture, and the scowl on his face, told me of his need to speak the truth.

  “Logan isn’t the wonderful dude you think he is.” His words delivered as a hiss, a tinge of bitterness and anger lurking in the background. Directed at me, but never spoken. Now I got it! He was reluctant to eat out because his temper was about to get the better of him.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He wasn’t overly vocal at the best of times, so I encouraged it. “Come on, you’ve obviously been stewing on whatever is on your mind, so let’s have it.” I wasn’t one for blistering rows, no matter how he dangled the bait. I was open for healthy debate, any day of the week, but Milo’s Latino temperament did not lend itself to civility when emotions ran high.

  “It means he has a big fucking mouth.”

  I made it my business never to speak in riddles, adept at dealing in truth. “Spit it out, Milo. Whatever you want to say, feel free, I’m a captive audience.”

  “Seth is fucking your best buddy. Honest enough?”

  “So what?” I failed to see his point. “Is that any of our business?” I tried to mask my own surprise. I knew Logan and Seth had a thing once upon a time but them hooking up recently rattled me.

  “It is when Seth knows things he shouldn’t know.”

  “About what?”

  “Us for starters.” His I-told-you-so tone warranted a poke in the eye, but something told me he was about to deliver an opening goal.

  Suddenly, I felt nervous, hoping Logan had not engaged in pillow talk with Seth. I would take such a move as massive betrayal on his part. Surely not? Why would he endanger our friendship knowing there was a chance tittle-tattle could filter back to Milo, then onto me? What would Logan have to gain from shattering my belief in him as a trusted friend? “Logan wouldn’t do that.”

  “And Seth doesn’t lie to me, ever, so…”

  Milo and Seth shared an unbreakable bond. There was no conceivable way Seth would ever lie to or deceive him. Stumped at where to go next, words failed me. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, Edward.”

  “What exactly did Seth tell you?”

  “Enough for me to know he can’t be trusted, but who you are friends with is not my business.”

  “I’m going to throttle him.” I was not the type of person to cross; nobody escaped unscathed.

  “What’s the point?”

  “My conversations with Logan should have remained private, that is the point, Milo.”

  “Hey!” He held his hands up, a winning smirk stretched across his face. “Don’t shoot the messenger. It’s not my fault you trusted the wrong person.”

  “You’re loving this,” I seethed, not wanting to give into my rising temper. “Admit it.”

  “I don’t give a shit, Edward, one way or the other. Logan’s some dude who pays me to fix his truck every once in a while. You’re the one he has a thing for, not me.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “Come on, drop the act. You know he wants you and maybe this is his way of sneaking under the radar and winning your heart.”

  “Winning my heart?” He had awoken the beast. “You can fuck right off with your snotty comments.”

  “I’m telling you my opinion, and if you can’t handle it, fuck you.”

  Keep your composure, I told myself. “How do you know Logan doesn’t have a thing for you? After all, it's you he comes back to when his truck needs fixing.”

  “Because I know what I’m doing and don’t overcharge.”

  “So you say.”

  “If you’ve got something to say, Edward, go for it.”

  “How do I know you’re not—” I stopped myself before my childish retort got me into trouble.

  He wasn’t as angry as I thought he would be. “You are the only guy I’ve ever been intimate with, so if you’re thinking there’s ever been something more between Logan and me, forget it.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

  “Edward, this isn’t about me being a jealous dick, but trying to protect you. The guy you think is your friend has a big mouth, simple as that.”

  “I never thought for one minute he was a gossip.” I still found it hard to reconcile the Logan I thought I knew with the guy Milo spoke of.

  “Jealousy makes people do crazy things; I know.”

  “Who’s jealous?”

  “For Christ’s sake, Logan is jealous.”

  “Why would he be?”

  “Because he wants you, don’t you see that?”

  “Logan and I are way past that.”

  “Are you, really?”

  “Yes!” But were we?

  “You might be, but he’s stuck wanting what he can’t have.”

  “What am I going to do?” Polite confrontation was my best friend, but in this town, friendships were limited. I genuinely appreciated Logan. Maybe a little hint here and there would be enough for him to realise I knew he had spoken out of turn. I’m reminded of my father’s favourite phrase. Loose lips sink ships. To the Baines-Tennant family, discretion remained paramount especially when dealing with outsiders.

  “He’s your friend, so you decide.”

  “I know one thing—no way will I speak of our relationship again.”

  “Whatever you think.”

  Betrayal stabbed at my heart, but I couldn’t let Milo see the depth of hurt I felt. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” Silly, I knew, but a part of me felt crushed. I thought Logan had my back, that I could open my heart to him, but a hard lesson had been learned.

  “Come here.” Milo pulled me into his arms. “You’re too trusting, Edward, but it doesn’t make him a bad person, far from it.”

  “You’ve changed your tune.” I rested my head on his shoulder.

  “I don’t like him, but it's not the worst crime in the world, and he’s not exactly telling lies, is he?”

  “No, but…”

  “Talk to him, do whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Are you always so forgiving?”

  “Depends who I’m supposed to be forgiving?”

  Hesitant to broach the subject of his family, I had a feeling he was ready to talk. Looking into his eyes, I took the plunge. “Have you seen your dad?”

  “Yeah.” I hadn’t expected him to answer.

  “Oh?”

  “Well, I saw him, but he didn’t see me.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “On the way home from work, I stopped at the red light outside that shitty motel and spotted him coming out of one of the rooms with Deborah.”

  “Deborah, as in your ex, that Deborah?”

  “Yep.”

  “Bugger me.”

  He let out a little laugh. “You’re so British.”

  “You love it.”

  He kissed me. “It’s true!”

  “So, you think your father is dating Deborah?”

  “I’d bet Sadey he is.”

  “A new thing or has it been going on a while?”

  “He told me she’d dumped me for him, but that’s the kind of asshole thing he’d say to get to me.”

  “I’m sorry, but he sounds a right twat.”

  “You’re being too kind where that bastard is concerned.”

  There’s the anger he holds back so well. “So, she’s what, just a shag?”

  “I don’t think so, no.”

  I’d discovered more in the last few minutes than I believed I ever would. “Dare I ask?”

  “The bitch is knocked-up.”

  “What is knocked-up?”

  “You know, pregnant.”

  “You’re kidding?” Suddenly, I felt transported into one of those terrible reality shows my sister binge watched–the Real Housewives of Texas, or something similar.

  “Nope, ‘fraid not!” His eyes darkened. “Good old Clayton Wilcox is gonna be a daddy, and God help that kid.”

  “How far gone is she?”

  “No idea, but if I had to gu
ess, not far off from popping the kid out.”

  “Does your mother know?”

  “I don’t know what she knows, to be honest.”

  “Do you not talk about what’s going on?”

  “I want to, but she’s got me pegged as a kid who needs protecting.”

  “It can’t be easy.” I took his hand in mine. “Try not to judge her.”

  “I bet Cambridgeshire isn’t anything like this?”

  “You haven’t met my sister yet.” I hadn’t thought of Milo meeting anybody but my mother, but there would come a time when it was inevitable. Milo was very much part of my present. In an ideal world, my future too.

  “Is she that bad?”

  “My dad always said Felicity could cause a riot in an empty house, and he’s not wrong.”

  “She sounds fun.”

  “Oh, she definitely is that, but with the fun comes tears and drama.”

  “I'm familiar with the type.”

  I had no reasons to doubt him. Milo had stud status on and off campus. “She could out-bitch anybody with eyes closed and hands tied behind her back.”

  “She sounds fun.”

  I shuddered to imagine what Felicity would make of Milo, but that meeting was a long way off yet. “I love her dearly, but if I’m honest, I wouldn’t want her tagging along for Thanksgiving.”

  “She’d be welcome. The more the merrier for my mom.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

  “You’re gonna love her, and she’ll love you, too.”

  “What are you going to tell her?” It had been on my mind and now there seemed to be an openness between us, I’d ask.

  “The truth,” he announced, matter-of-factly. “We’re together.”

  Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and my heart skipped a beat. “Are you definitely going to tell her?”

  “Yeah.” I threw my arms around him and buried my head in his neck. Right then I could have been the most important person in the world.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Milo

  Nothing said Thanksgiving more than the aroma of honey biscuits floating through the house. I came home at midnight, knowing my mom needed help baking and packaging all the fresh baked goods, but I never expected her to be done and already packaging when I walked in the door.

  “You and the ladies made good time making the biscuits.”

  “Hey, you. Didn’t expect you home.” She turned and loaded the last of the biscuits into the box. “They were a huge help. In record time, we cooked five hundred between the two ovens.”

  “Wow, did you already whip up the apple butter, too?” I ignored her initial question about coming home.

  “No, I need to, though. You stayin’ here or headin’ back out?” She didn’t pry for more information; it felt nice to know she trusted me, and we didn’t need to worry about my father walking in drunk and belligerent—a first for me.

  “I’m here, and I’ll help you put the turkey in so it can be ready by—”

  “Five o’clock, the bird goes in. The wild rice is ready to stuff in it about four-thirty.”

  “Excellent. You know, Mom…” I paused and walked over to her at the table. The same one only weeks ago was shoved into her.

  She sniffed my direction. “Oh, you smell nice. What is that?”

  Crap, I forgot about the shower Edward and I took. The past two days, I’d left work and gone straight to his place, showered, and then we spent our evening together. Tonight, he joined me for a second shower together. Somehow, I found it satisfying for us to wash one another and surprised myself that his touch filled me with more than the sex we’d shared before. He showed me what unfettered intimacy did for the heart and soul, and it scared the daylights out of me.

  Talking the last two nights did something new for me. It opened up my eyes to the reality of lifelong abuse, and the unjustified guilt victims held onto. Edward didn’t know everything, but the unbiased ideas he spoke about resonated in those locked up secrets I sucked down and kept to myself. The ache in my neck and down my spine eased as the tension I let go of escaped—if only for a little bit.

  Edward helped me understand why shouldering the burden of my father’s shortcomings wasn’t my responsibility. It didn’t mean I stopped worrying about everything. He showed me a different perspective to grapple with. It forced me to slow down, extricate myself from the situation, and deconstruct the parts. I suppose I never allowed someone inside my walls long enough to allow them a chance to help me.

  Watching my mother move about the kitchen opened my eyes even more, and I owed it all to the amazing man changing my life, no matter how hard I fought him and this thing happening between us.

  “Oh, I stopped off to play games at Seth’s. I showered. He has some male equivalent to your body wash stuff.”

  “Huh.” I knew by her huffed response she caught my lie. I’m not quite sure what made me do it either.

  She turned and faced the sink peeling the apples. I shuffled around behind her, grabbing the two pots we used every year to make the small jars full of apple butter. A silence fell between us before I joined her at the sink to help peel.

  “Have you spoken to your attorney?”

  “No. Until a court date is set, he has all the information he needs. Why?”

  “I saw Dad today.” She dropped her peeler to the bottom of the sink.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I also saw something a little different.”

  She recovered the peeler and continued. The stiff jaw and narrowed focus on the task spoke volumes.

  “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “Milo. I never meant for you to find out this way. I found out the night he was arrested.”

  Edward’s words came back to me. Don’t judge her. My temper boiled below the surface, but I heeded his warning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I waited to make certain it was true and that the baby was truly a Wilcox.”

  “What does it matter if it is a Wilcox or not? He’s taken my ex-girlfriend and slept with her. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I don’t think she’s the only one. I fear for their safety, and the child’s as well.”

  “Mom.”

  She turned and pointed her finger in my face. “Don’t mom me. I know more about how sweet and kind Clay Wilcox can be. I was one of them, remember.” She pointed aimlessly toward the front window. “Twenty-one years ago. They don’t deserve what he is going to do to them. I need them to see me as an ally, not a foe. They need to help me sink him behind bars for a long time.”

  Her words slapped me across the face as I processed what she said. The fact that I only selfishly thought of myself and her from my narrow perspective made me sick to my stomach. My mother cared for others more than herself and allowed the papers to trash her in a social trial while she gathered her ammunition. Edward’s advice soured in my mouth, and I excused myself to the restroom.

  The tap ran with ice-cold water as I stared at the dishonest man reflected back at me in the mirror. How did I miss my mother’s passiveness as a sign of weakness and not perhaps a quieter way of making a more significant difference? However, it irked me that as I openly discussed our plan to escape, she stayed silent with me.

  Why? Did I want to know? What if she, too, held a hand in manipulating me all my life? A tear slid down my cheek as it crossed my mind that my life was nothing but a joke to everyone who had known me.

  “Milo, come out.”

  The handle of the door wiggled. “I need a minute.”

  “You’ve had a minute. Stop acting like a child. We should talk.”

  I splashed more water on my face, grabbed the hand towel, and opened the door while wiping the water away.

  “Oh, honey.” She pulled me in and held tight as if I would fly off if she let go. “Can we go talk this through while making the butter? I know you aren’t much for sitting idle when things get serious.”

  My gut tightened, thinking how m
uch Edward changed me over the course of a few months. “Sure.” A one-word response sufficed, and she let go of me as we marched right back to the kitchen.

  “I didn’t tell you what I was doing because you know too many of these girls. I couldn’t afford for you to be involved. They needed to trust me and meet with my lawyer. I didn’t want things to get messier than necessary.”

  “You make me feel as if I am too much a part of him to be trusted.”

  “Don’t ever say that. I was protecting you as much as these girls and myself.”

  “How long?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I couldn’t look her in the eye. After the years of beatings from his hands, fists, and feet, her answer would sting because I understood this did not happen overnight.

  “Sweetheart, please understand, I did this for us, and my attorney has been gathering information for at least eighteen months. Clay played right into our plan when he lost his cool and ended up in jail. Now we wait and pray these girls come forward.”

  “Is Deb a part of this?”

  “I know other girls have approached her. The attorney sent a letter to her house, but I’m concerned that you told me she is still seeing your dad.” We shared a look of disgust at the truth of the matter.

  We stirred the apples as they reduced in the pots. The silence settled between us, a welcome as I mulled over all she told me. In my eyes, my mom always protected me; it didn’t weaken her, but I thought she stayed quiet to hold our social reputation. In reality, she spoke louder gathering damaging information, and I felt less of a man for ever believing she was weak and unable to handle herself.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered as I choked back my emotions.

  She placed her hand on my back, and neither of us took our gaze away from our simmering pots.

  “Don’t do this, Milo. I am the one who should apologize. I wasn’t forthcoming with you, but from now on, only the truth flows from my lips.”

  I glanced up at the clock as it struck two. “Let’s get these packaged so we can get a few hours of sleep in. I promise, Mom, I won’t do anything more to add to your stress. My plan remains the same. Finish these finals, complete next semester, and we find a new beginning when all this is over.”

  “Deal.”