Besides, look at what you're keeping from her. People in glass houses, man.
She looked up at him. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
He was startled. “Oh, Annabeth… I don’t know. I mean…”
“I don’t mean that we’ll have sex. I – I can’t deal with that right now. But can you – just hold me?”
I can’t. I can’t do this. Not with what I’m not telling her.
“If you don’t want to be alone, don’t you think you should ask Vicky to stay over again?”
“She’d stay if I asked. She already said so. But I need someone in my bed, holding me. I need… I need you next to me. Please, Eric.”
His thoughts and emotions were like a wild storm inside of him: swirling and confused and so fucking messy. He couldn’t do this; he couldn’t not do this.
So he agreed. He took her hand and led her to her bedroom.
“Get undressed and get in to bed, baby. I’ll go get some night things from my place, OK?”
“You’ll come back?”
“I’ll come back.”
In his cabin, he grabbed a change of clothes and a few toiletries. Finally, after he had nothing else to do or distract him, he met his own eyes in the mirror.
Goddammit. She was in hell. So much pain and so alone. And you spent the night with her, after she begged you not to leave her alone, and you were so busy getting off that you barely noticed a fucking thing even after she trashed her kitchen right in front of you. If she had gone ahead with it? It’d be your fault, asshole. You have no excuses here.
“Do it right this time.” He said it aloud and he jumped a bit as his voice echoed around the bathroom. “Listen to her tonight. Just listen. And tomorrow – you leave. Enough is enough.”
One last night, then.
What’s one night?
Everything. When it’s all you’ve got left, it’s everything.
Chapter Nine
Annabeth and Eric were lying in her bed, just holding each other and not talking. Not yet.
He stroked her hair and she looked up at him.
“You feel like talking, angel?”
“Yes and no.”
“More yes or more no?”
She laughed. She couldn’t believe it, but she did.
“More yes, I think,” she said.
“OK.”
“I’m just lying here, trying to remember why the hell I thought ending it all was the best answer. Why I saw it as the only answer.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “I honestly don’t know how I got there, Eric. How things got that bad.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Well, what I said earlier, about your writing.” He flushed as he remembered the venom in his words. “The way I asked was horrible, but I still want to know. Did you – did you mean what you wrote? Or was it all… I don’t know. A job? A book advance?”
She looked at her fingers tracing the curve of muscle on his chest, over and over.
“Annabeth? I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer.”
“But I do. I even want to.”
“OK.”
“The truth is, I don’t know. I really don’t. I know that I wanted to mean it. I wanted to be doing better and getting stronger and moving on. I know that I wanted to comfort others, help them if I could.”
“Were you ever really OK? Healing?”
“Yes. For sure, yes. For a while there, I was doing well. Great, even. Then – I don’t know. I suddenly got tired of it all. Grief is exhausting, and the energy that it takes to get through the day is astonishing. And I had the energy for a while… maybe a year. Then – I just didn’t.”
“Did you ask for help?”
“I just figured it was a low point and it was temporary. I thought that the way it worked was that as more time passed, things got better. Right? ‘Time heals all wounds’ and so on. But for me, it felt like more time meant more pain.”
“Depression?”
“Maybe. I see now that I should have gone back to a therapist or talked to my doctor. But really, it just happened so slowly and gradually, just one small thing and then another and I was mostly OK ninety percent of the time. Then eighty. Then half the time and then less than that. And then one day I was in this… this deep, dark pit and I was standing at the bottom of it screaming with no idea how I got there.”
He stroked her back. “One shovelful of dirt at a time.”
She looked at him. “Yes. Exactly. Just one thing, then another. Each thing was so small and insignificant on its own, so I never noticed or took it seriously or thought it was worth addressing. But over time, the way they all added up…”
“Was disastrous,” he finished, finally starting to understand.
“I think so. Yes.” She sighed. “But by the time I figured out that I wasn’t actually doing well at all, the blog was huge and I was well in to my second book, and I didn’t want to let people down. I felt responsible for my followers and so many of them were so incredibly vulnerable. I just couldn’t turn around and crumble. They needed me to be strong and whole. It just felt like – there was a lot of pressure.”
He nodded, remembering how happy he’d been when her blog posts had become more positive. The truth was, when he thought she was doing better, his own guilt about benefitting from her husband’s death had lessened.
Be honest. You needed her to appear to do better, no matter how true it was. You know that your conscience was clearer when she started to write happier posts.
“And that was that, really.” She ran her finger over his bicep, marvelling at its strength. “I felt stuck and like a total fraud. Which made me feel worse – more depressed and hopeless. So I fought harder to be happy and strong. I wrote more empowered things, but no matter how badly I wanted them to be true, I knew they weren’t. So I was lying… and on it all went in to another cycle of depression.”
“And you had nobody to tell?”
“I didn’t think so at the time. I see now I should have talked to my Mom. She’d have pulled me through. But I was terrified of disappointing her, so in the end, I misled her too.”
“It sounds horrible, baby. So lonely. I’m so sorry.”
“But I think – I think I’m going to be OK now. For real. I can’t go on the way I have been, I see that now.”
“What are you going to do?”
She smiled up at him and her blue eyes were shining and clear. She looked so deeply and truly OK, and his heart jumped a bit at the hope of it.
“Right now? I’m going to lie in this bed with a gorgeous man with a sexy drawl and enjoy being close to him. And just… breathe.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Sounds good, angel. Sounds very good.”
**
Three days later, Eric woke up first. He lay quietly, watching Annabeth sleep, listening to her deep, even breaths. He liked the way her eyelashes fluttered when she was dreaming.
They had spent every night together since she had told him about wanting to end her own life. No sex, just comfort and support. And – from his side – love. Love and guilt.
Every day, he told himself he should get on a plane and go home; every day he promised Ian he'd do exactly that the next day. Every day he stayed with Annabeth.
Every day, they walked in the mountains and Eric showed her the wildflowers. Annabeth’s knowledge extended as far as ‘a white flower’ and ‘another white flower’, and he delighted in sharing a bit of his deep love for botany.
Just the day before, she had stopped dead and pointed at a yellow flower. “What’s that one, Eric?”
He came over. “Oh, nice. Those are called Golden Smoke.”
She stared down at them. “They’re so delicate and graceful, but I get the sense they can take care of themselves.”
“They really can. They’re normally cold weather flowers. We don’t get them in Texas.”
She looked at him. “Yeah? It’s only autumn,
and not that cold yet.”
“It’s weird to see them so early, but not unheard of.”
“Well. I like them.”
“Me too.”
The grinned at each other, and Eric wanted to kiss her then, very badly. Just kiss all her vulnerabilities and toughness, hold on to her and then set her loose to watch her thrive.
Annabeth was meeting with Francine every day and was talking to her friends at Open Skies openly and everyone had been nothing but careful and caring. She was doing better, he knew. Not that any of those things made his leaving any easier but at least if she fell apart again, she’d have people here to help her.
As Eric watched her sleep, he knew that time had run out: his reservation was ending and someone else had the cabin booked after him. So no matter what, he had to go back to Houston the next day. This was it.
Today. You just have to get through today. Then you go and never see her again and she never has to know.
**
When Eric came back in the afternoon for a glass of wine with her, Annabeth was ready.
She gave him the wine and then she fussed and fidgeted in the kitchen, trying to calm herself down and build up her courage to talk to him.
Eric watched her from the sofa, noticing that she looked tense.
“You OK?” he said.
“Yeah. Yeah. I… ummm. I just need to talk to you about something and I’m nervous about it.”
He set down his glass. “OK.”
She sat next to him, her fingers twisting. He reached out and took her hand.
“You can tell me anything, angel. You know that, right?”
“Yes.”
He waited.
“OK, well. I talked to Catherine this morning.”
Her agent. “And what did she say?”
“The publisher is still furious.”
“No surprise there, right? I mean, they commissioned a third book about how well you’re doing, and now you and Catherine want to give them a whole different book. I imagine they don’t care if what you’re proposing is the truth.”
“Yeah, well. They’re pissed but they’ve also come around.”
He stared at her. “They have?”
“Yes. They’ve talked about it, I guess, and they now seem to think that the book I actually want to write is even more marketable than the book I sent off last week.”
“Goddamned vultures.”
“I know. It’s all about having a spin they can sell, I get that.” She smiled. “But they want me to tell the truth, Eric. I get to write about how the past three years have really been. I feel like… I don’t know. Like I can finally be totally honest and let go of some of the guilt of lying.”
He cupped her glowing face in his palm. “You sure you want to do this, angel? The fallout is going to be huge and probably brutal. People will be angry – they’ll feel like you duped them. The whole reason the publisher is so hot to do this is because controversy sells. The more the better, and it’ll be you in the crosshairs, not them.”
“Yeah. That’s the second thing I want to talk to you about.”
“OK.”
She took a deep breath. You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”
“Right.”
“I want to come with you.”
Stunned, he stared at her. “You – what?”
“I can work anywhere, Eric. All I need is my laptop and wifi. And I feel like… like we have something. I’d like to rent a place outside Houston and write. See you when you have the time and see where this all goes.” She swallowed. “I’d like you to be there while I write this book. I feel like I’ll have the strength to write with total honesty and then cope with whatever comes if I have you.”
OK, there. I said it. It’s out there now, no taking it back.
Eric was shocked and horrified. The one woman on earth that he couldn’t have was the only woman on earth that he wanted. And it turned out, she wanted him too. Not for a one-night-stand or as a friend who showed her flowers and slept next to her with pajamas on. As a man. A lover.
For a few seconds, Eric wrestled with the idea of not telling her anything. Just bringing her back to Houston with him and spending every night in her bed. Kissing her and holding her close, hearing her laugh and being there as she started to move on from Cam properly. It was so tempting and so possible and he wanted it so badly. But he couldn't do that to her. She couldn't not know.
Goddammit. It's finally here. In your heart, you always knew this would happen eventually, didn't you?
“Annabeth.” He cleared his throat. “I have something important to tell you now, baby. And after I do, you tell me if you still want to be with me, OK?”
You won’t want to be with me. I know it.
“OK.”
He leaned back. “That first time we met in the restaurant? I already knew who you were.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I’ve read your blog for almost three years, Annabeth. I have your books at home. I – I knew all about you and Cam a long time ago.”
She blinked.
“Me being here at Open Skies right now is no coincidence. I knew you’d be here, getting your third book ready for publishing.”
She found her voice. “How the hell could you know that? I never said anything about my actual location… never even hinted that it was near the mountains.”
He shifted. “I knew from your blog that you always went to the same place, and when I googled your name, I found a testimonial you’d written for the Open Skies website. So I knew you’d been here.”
“I’ve written testimonials for many hotels I like. How did you know that I’d be here now?”
“I had a friend in the Houston police department run your credit cards from the last few times you were off doing your revisions. You’d said you always stay at the same place, so I had him look for any transactions around the times you were editing. It was easy enough to see that charges here appeared every single time.”
She stared at him, anger rising in her now. “You – you had a friend do what? Is that even legal?”
“No.”
“You goddamned… why did you do this?” She shot to her feet. “You’re a crazy stalker aren’t you? You – you followed me here! Why?”
She backed away from him towards the door. He got to his feet, his hands outstretched.
“Annabeth, please. I promise you, I’m not some deranged fan or follower or whatever. I had a very good reason for wanting to meet you. Can you just listen?”
“Maybe. You stay over there.”
He sat down again. “OK.”
“So, tell me.”
“God, Annabeth. I never wanted you to know this. I swear.”
“Tell me.”
“OK. I – I had a heart transplant. I had it three years ago.”
She stared at him. “Yeah. And?”
“And – and I know who the donor was.”
Annabeth shook her head. “That’s impossible. The whole process is anonymous... recipients have no way of knowing where organs come from.”
“I had a chatty young intern prep me for the surgery. Totally unprofessional, but he did tell me a lot. I knew that the donor was a firefighter who had died in a car accident and I heard the nurses talking about the heart being flown in from Denver. It was more than enough to start putting the pieces together.”
The light was dawning on her now, but she resisted it, fought it off. “What are you telling me?”
He looked at her steadily. “You know what I’m saying, Annabeth. My heart? It was – it was Cam’s heart. I have Cam’s heart.”
Her knees went out under her then and she crumpled to the floor. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
“Annabeth!” He hurried over to her and knelt beside her. “Hey. Hey, just breathe, OK?”
“Oh, my God… Cam’s heart.” With trembling fingers she reached out and touched his chest. Even through the material of his t-shirt she felt his heartbeat, strong and steady
. She remembered all the times she’d laid on Cam’s chest and now Eric’s chest, listening to this heart, feeling it against her cheek.
He said it was a good heart. He has no idea how good it really was.
Eric watched her face as she touched him. He’d do anything right now to stop her pain. He reached for her.
“Don’t touch me!” She pushed his hands away. “Just – just stay away from me!”
He sat a few feet away, watching her. She wrapped her arms around her legs and lowered her head to her knees and wept. She rocked back and forth, seeking comfort and struggling to calm herself. His arms twitched with the desire to pull her to him.
“Please, Annabeth. Let me help you.”
“Help me?” She raised her head; her face was wrecked with shock and grief. “How are you going to help me?”
“Let me just… just hold you.”
“No. Never again.” She shook her head. “This whole time – this whole fucking time! – you’ve known. And you fucked me… let me sleep in your arms. Listened to me cry and I told you about wanting to kill myself. I told you about Cam. And you – you have his heart.”
“None of that was supposed to happen,” he said quietly. “I promise you.”
“Oh, right. Like I’m going to believe a single fucking word you say.”
“I just wanted to meet the wife of the man who saved my life. That’s all, I swear. I was going to meet you and go.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because – because you needed me.”
“I what?”
“You said so, that night. You said you needed me to help you through the night. And I wanted to be there for you. I felt like – I had a responsibility to make sure you were OK. So, I stayed.”
“And you fucked me.”
“No. I made love to you.”
“Bullshit. You used me. You lied to me. You made me think that we had something real and amazing.”
“It wasn’t what I planned, Annabeth. None of it.”
“So why did you tell me at all?”
“Because we’re falling in love. Aren’t we?”
She was silent.
“I just couldn’t go on not telling you. I knew I’d lose you, you see, and I’m selfish and weak enough that I wanted every minute with you that I could get. I wanted to be there for you, to help you. It was – it was wrong. But I didn’t expect you to ever feel the way that I do. I didn’t think you’d want me after I left here, or that you’d want to come to Houston with me.” He held her eyes. “I truly didn’t think I’d ever have to tell you.”
Open Heart Page 8