“Bullshit…you didn’t even really look at her. Nicole’s got you by the balls.”
Aaron looks up from his phone and grins. “You know what, I know what you’re trying to do and I’m not rising to it. Nicole can take me by the balls anytime, Robert.”
I snort, reaching out to straighten the salt and pepper grinders on the table. “Wow…you’re really into her.”
Aaron nods. “I am. She’s pretty fucking amazing. But we’re taking it slow.”
“That’s good, bro. I’m happy for you.”
The waitress returns with our cokes, eyes stroking over Aaron in a way that’s so sexual I could almost smell it, and this time he smiles back. “Thanks, Maddison.”
“That’s okay. You just let me know if you need anything else.” She lingers, eyeing Aaron obviously.
“We’re good for now,” he says firmly and I shake my head as she walks off looking dejected.
“Well, now I’ve seen it all,” I say.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Robert. I met Nicole and all I wanted was a fling. I didn’t do anything different from usual. She started off as an anonymous pick-up, but she got under my skin. The more we talked, and fought, the more I realized that she was something special. I started to see my fear for what it was, and hers too. In the end, I knew she understood and she didn’t judge me. She just told me she was willing to take a chance and by then I realized that I wanted to try too. We’re not getting any younger, you know?” Aaron looks at me pointedly.
“We’re in our prime,” I joke, and he frowns.
“We may be in our prime, Robert, but life is moving fast and we have to keep up, don’t we?”
“What are you getting at?” I was starting to feel like the conversation was going to get heavy again, and after my disastrous meeting with Analie, I could do without that. I was still stinging from the rejection as well as carrying around the unsettled feeling that had formed in my chest when I discovered she’d left without saying goodbye.
“I’m just worried about you, Robert. You’re letting time pass you by and…” He paused, resting his hands on the table in front of him. “…I can’t just keep saying nothing about it.”
“What do you mean?” My voice sounds tight from the ache in my throat.
“I mean, it’s enough now. You can’t blame yourself anymore. It was an accident and you need to accept that. It’s time.” Aaron leans forward. “You need to go back to therapy.”
“Fuck therapy,” I hiss on the verge of standing up and leaving. I don’t want to sit here digging up my darkest memories. I’m already feeling raw and this will wreck me.
“Look, I know you don’t think it will make a difference but it can and it will.”
“Talking can’t change what I feel, Aaron.”
“It can. I promise you. Sometimes you need to face up to things to move past them. You never did that, did you?”
“Ah, I see what this is,” I say slumping back in the chair. “You’ve had some heart-to-hearts with Nicole and now you think you know all about ‘moving on.’”
“That isn’t what this is about.”
“No. Says the man who’s been doing everything to avoid facing up to his issues until two days ago.”
“Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a terrified individual who was pathetic enough to let my fears rule my life for too long. Doesn’t that put me in a pretty decent position to give you advice?”
“Getting over your bitch girlfriend and her deception is one thing. You didn’t do anything wrong except trust someone duplicitous. You cannot begin to compare us, Aaron.”
“I can, Robert,” he says, his knuckles whitening as he grasps the edge of the table. “I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t want to see you waste any more time over something that’s so far in the past.”
I look down at the table, not wanting to meet his eyes. “It might seem far in the past for you, but it’s like yesterday for me,” I tell him quietly.
“Well, it shouldn’t be,” Aaron says, just as our food arrived. The waitress places the plates in front of us and then leaves without the lingering stares. She’s obviously gotten the message. I use the distraction to take a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure, but my heart is thumping and my hands are balled into fists under the table.
“I want you to promise me that you’ll go and see someone.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I think I’m your brother. The brother who’s always supported you. The brother who stood by and never questioned your decisions about how to live your life. I’m the brother who loves you enough to say enough is enough now.”
My stomach rolls and my throat burns with anger, frustration, and too many years of swallowed guilt that I just can’t seem to squash down anymore. I stand and press my hands into the table, looking my brother dead in the eye. “I don’t need your advice, Aaron. I don’t need your platitudes about ‘time healing’ or your ideas about what I should be doing to improve my life. My life is as fine as it is ever going to be. So just butt the fuck out, okay. Go back to Atlanta and leave me the fuck alone.”
“Robert…” Aaron starts to say, but I’m already halfway across the restaurant. All I can think about is getting to my car and driving the fuck away from here. I need to feel the cool breeze on my face and take out my frustration on the road. I think for a second that Aaron might follow me, but then I realize he knows me too well to think he can change my mind once I’m so riled up. He’ll give me the space I need.
In the car, I buckle up and then laugh at the irony of my action. I don’t give a fuck about my life, not really. It’s not that I don’t want to live. If I was having those kinds of thoughts, I’m man enough to carry it out. It’s more that fate is a bitch, and I know that caring about anything is pointless. Caring only makes it harder when everything is snatched away.
I speed away with the windows down, despite the fall chill that is already tinged with the bite of winter. My hand grips the steering wheel tightly, and I put the radio on to try and drown out my thoughts. The station is playing something heavy with guitar and drums, but my mind still manages to scream over it. ‘It’s your fault she died, it’s your fault. You lived and she…’ I shake my head, not wanting to get any deeper into the memory. The images are so clear in my mind that I can smell the smoke and hear the crackling.
“Fuck!” I shout, pounding my hands against the steering wheel, slamming on my brakes as the traffic in front of me comes to a standstill.
My heart pounds, and I begin to sweat despite the cold. The lights change and I keep moving, weaving my way out of the city. Aaron’s words are there with me like a taunt. He makes it all sound so easy, but it isn’t. It can never be. The road is winding, and I love the way the car hugs the ground, twisting and turning, tires screeching. It feels so good to speed, as though I might have a chance at outrunning all my ghosts if I just put my foot down far enough. My cell phone starts ringing and I look down at it on my knee. Aaron’s imaged flashes up and I curse again. Why can’t he leave me be?
Then I look back at the road and I know.
It’s too late.
I’m trapped in those seconds again; time slows.
I feel the skittering thud of my heart.
My hands slip on the wheel as it begins to spin out. The tires lift from the passenger side. My shoulders rise upwards, body sliding forward in my seat, inch by slow inch. My mind seems to process everything in snapshots.
It’s quiet as I process that Fate’s poisoned finger is pointing at me again.
Then the sounds are deafening; metal crunches, engine squeals, glass shatters and road bangs, bangs, bangs.
And in the midst of it all, the only thought in my mind is that I’m going to burn, and I’m going to get what I deserve.
13
ANALIE
Do you ever get a dragging feeling in your chest for no reason and sit still, wondering what is happening in the world that might
account for it?
Some people call it a sixth sense. A sensitivity maybe. A deeper connection.
I think we all have it, but some of us are better at feeling those strings than others.
I’m in my den, sipping my coffee and watching TV when I feel it. A tug at my heart. A feeling that something isn’t right.
All afternoon that feeling stays with me. I wonder if I’m getting sick. I had a virus a few years ago that had started with a funny ache in my chest and turned into a horrendous infection that left me with a hacking cough for weeks.
I call my mom and chat to her about what we’re going to do for Thanksgiving. I clean out my fridge and vacuum my bedroom. I even sort some correspondence to try and take my mind off the strange feeling. Getting sick, if that is what it is, is going to be a terrible inconvenience. I have a full schedule to get through and I hate letting my patients down.
I don’t sleep well that night. I’m still tender between my legs and in my heart. I still have the memory of Robert’s sad expression behind my eyes and the fear that my dreams will take me somewhere I don’t want to go again.
In the morning, it’s hard to get up. The ache in my chest is still there and I feel angry with myself, rationalizing that maybe it’s because I’m upset about what had happened with Robert and I’m letting it manifest as something physical.
As a psychologist, I don’t like it when worries become real in that way. It would show that I’m not processing my emotions properly. Maybe I should confide in a friend about what happened. It’s not that I need advice. I’m pretty confident that I know my own mind. It was more that I need a way to exorcise these feelings.
I don’t have an appointment with my own therapist until the end of the following week, but I vow I will talk it all through with Benjamin.
It’s a freezing day and my cheeks feel chapped as I walk from the parking garage to the staff entrance at the hospital. I pass the entrance to the main ward and smile at Hannah, one of the nurses on duty. As I’m about to turn down the corridor to my office, I spot the back of someone familiar, pacing with his hands in his pockets. It looks like Robert’s friend and he seems to be wearing the same clothes he had on the day before.
I stop and wait to see if the figure will turn around. When he does, his eyes scan over me, reaching my face and flashing with recognition. We both stand still for seconds that feel as though they are stretching far longer than they should. Then he starts walking towards me.
“Analie?”
I nod. “Is everything okay?”
Before he says anything, I know. Something terrible has happened. I can see it in his tired eyes and grey coloring. I can feel it in my bones. “Robert was in an accident yesterday afternoon,” he says.
My heart seemed to drop within my chest. “What kind of accident?”
“Car…he was speeding and it rolled.”
My hands go to my mouth. I feel like I might fall. “Oh god. Where is he? How is he?” I don’t know how to get my words out properly. Everything sounds so garbled.
“He’s in a bad way,” he sighs. “But he’s alive. He hasn’t come around yet, though.”
“You mean he’s still unconscious?” I glance over his shoulder to where Robert might be in one of the private rooms.
“Yes. To be honest, he’s lucky to be alive. His car…the cops said it’s not even recognizable.”
“What’s the prognosis?” I’m fearful to hear the response but I need to know.
“The doctors aren’t sure. They’ve told me comas are difficult. His brain is swollen, but it seems to be improving. They hope he’ll come around, but there’s always a chance that…” He trails off and looks back down the corridor as if he can’t bring himself to contemplate the worst.
“Can I see him?” I’m scared, but I know I need to face whatever is happening. I need to see patients today and I won’t be able to with so many uncertainties running around in my mind.
“Yeah. Come on. I’m Aaron, by the way. Robert's brother.” He leads me down the corridor and I close my eyes just for a moment as Aaron opens the door. I know what critical patients look like, but this isn’t just anyone.
This is Robert.
This is someone I care about.
My heart aches. I know we haven’t known each other long, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Robert is someone who, despite all the friction between us, has affected me in a way that is unique in my life.
When I open my eyes, what greets me is a sight I shall never forget. The man in the bed is strapped with bandages and hooked up to so many machines it’s hard to see his limbs. His face is bruised and barely visible for all the equipment that surrounds him. He almost doesn’t look like Robert and my heart hurts, so badly that I press my hand to the center of my chest and push hard.
“Oh god,” I say and Aaron puts his arm around me.
“I know.” His voice is gravelly with emotion.
“Why was he speeding? How could he do this to himself?”
“We had a bit of a discussion…a disagreement.”
“And?”
“And he was upset.”
“Upset enough to try and kill himself?” I turn and look at Aaron who, at that moment, looks so similar to the uninjured Robert that it take’s my breath away.
“No,” he says with certainty. “At least, not purposefully.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask, looking back at Robert, the beeping of the machines and sound of the respirator so distracting.
“Because if he was going to do that, he would have done it a long time ago.”
“I need to sit down,” I say, glancing at the chairs in the corner of the room.
“Of course.” Aaron lets his arm slip from my shoulders and we both take a seat. I lean forward, resting my forearms on my thighs and stare at the floor. Aaron stretches his long legs out in front of him, his smart brown boots in my line of sight.
“Will you tell me what happened to him?” I ask. “I want to know.”
“He didn’t tell you himself?”
“No. He told me that talking wouldn’t change anything and that sometimes people are just rotten inside and there is nothing that can be done.” Aaron sighs as though he’s dismayed at how Robert has described himself to me. “I’ve seen therapy work for people. Not everyone, admittedly, but most people find benefit in talking through their feelings. I know I have.”
“He won’t like it if I tell you.”
“I know. I get that he’s a private person, but I really want to understand him better. He…” I trail off, not really feeling comfortable bearing my soul to a stranger, but these are strange circumstances and I feel that I owe Aaron something more if I’m expecting him to betray his brother’s confidence. “…we seem to have a connection. A really strong connection.”
Aaron shifts in his chair, and so do I, so that we’re angled towards each other. His face is dark with worry and his piercing green eyes keep flicking to where Robert is lying as if he’s worried his brother is listening.
“Back in college, Robert was driving with his girlfriend one night and the car overturned. He survived, but Bethany died in the accident.”
“And he blames himself?”
“Well, the police couldn’t confirm exactly what had happened. Robert was thrown from the vehicle and it caught fire. There wasn’t a lot left of it by the time they arrived.”
“And Bethany?”
“They don’t know if she died in the impact or the fire. Robert watched the fire…he couldn’t do anything to get her out.”
As Aaron’s words settle on me, I realized that there are times in life when you hear things that are so horrific, you can almost imagine yourself there, in those terrible circumstances. I know what it feels like for skin to burn. My own experience had been terrible enough, but to be trapped inside a burning car. To burn alive. I can’t imagine.
I can’t imagine what it would be like to see someone you love perish that way and not be able to do anything
about it.
My patients who have survived house fires talk of the overwhelming smells and sheer noise of the fire as it consumes everything in its path. I know the fear I feel within my own dreams.
Robert lay injured at the side of the road and had to watch as his girlfriend died in the worst possible circumstances.
No wonder he didn’t want to talk to me about it.
No wonder he’s been hiding.
No wonder he reacted as he did when he saw my burns for the first time.
It’s as though all the missing pieces that had made Robert’s reactions seem so strange and infuriating, finally fell into place.
“Oh god,” I say quietly, breathing out a long sigh.
“I don’t think God was anywhere close to Robert that day. He suffered one of the worst things I can imagine. He lost his future…and he’s never recovered.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Sixteen years.”
“That’s so long.”
“I know. In the beginning, our parents tried to get him help. They found the best therapists in the US for him. We all tried so hard to get him to forgive himself, but he didn’t. He says he can’t. It might have been Bethany that died that day, but Robert might as well have too. The only things that seem to bring him to life are his charity work and his writing. But the rest of his life has been put on hold. Before the accident, he wanted to teach. He was studying English literature and language. He was a great student.”
“And he never completed his studies?”
“No. And he’s never worked since. It’s like he won’t let himself move on. He froze himself as he was when Bethany died. I know he still writes but he’s never tried to get anything published. He has short-term flings but hasn’t had a real relationship since her.”
“He feels responsible,” I say, my brain starting to process Robert and his turmoil. “He blames himself for her death and doesn’t feel as though he deserves to move forward because she can’t. She’s trapped at the age she was when she died and for him to have a career, to get married, to have a family, would be him leaving her behind. While he stays like this, he keeps himself closer to her.”
IGNITE : A BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE Page 7