Between Him and Us

by Nicole Richard

  Between Him and Us

  Copyright © 2017 Nicole Richard

  Published by Nicole Richard

  First Edition

  Editor: Ashley Williams, AW Editing

  Proofread: Julie Deaton, Deaton Author Services

  Formatting: Champagne Book Design

  Cover design: John Pacheco

  Cover Photo: Sara Eirew Photographer

  Cover Models: BT Urruela and Josèe Lanoue

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written consent except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical article and reviews.

  This is the work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are uses fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note to the Reader

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chaper Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Bonus Chapter

  Acknowledgments

  Playlist

  About the Author

  Books by Nicole Richard

  Note to the Reader:

  Thank you for choosing to read Between Him and Us.

  While not required, it is recommended that you read Reclaiming Us prior to this, as you will learn about Lilly and what has brought her to this point. Although this story was never one I had (initially) intended to write, it became very clear that Lilly deserved her happily ever after.

  Life is hard.

  Life is never fair.

  Life is about choices, but sometimes those choices aren’t ours to make.

  This is what happens when life takes a break, love steps in and fate decides for you.

  If someone were to ask me the hardest part about being the spouse of a US Air Force Airman, I would have said it was each and every time Tyler deployed. Emotions were high. My nerves were shot, and another piece of my heart chipped away each time I held him in my arms, knowing I had no choice but to let him go. I let him take that piece with him as I watched him disappear behind that restricted barrier. Aware that there was a very real and very frightening possibility he may never return to me alive, but rather in a seven-foot box.

  Mindlessly brushing my fingers along the brim of Tyler’s favorite cowboy hat, I stood rooted to the open space. The white rustic walls and antique gray hardwood floors should not have put a damper on my mood, on my fresh start, but they did.

  The vast emptiness made me feel claustrophobic.

  “Everything’s unpacked, now what?” A heavy tear dropped, soaking a spot on the Stetson, and I became hyperaware of just how alone I felt.

  My grandmother’s out-of-place bowl of artificial fruit sat perfectly in the middle of the dining table. Tyler’s bottle of Jack to the side of it—that was it. There was no reason to decorate with photos on the mantel or warm accents on the walls. Without him, this would never be a home.

  I tossed the hat on the table and picked up the bottle, pressed it to my lips, closed my eyes, and waited out the burn as it slid down my throat. It was nothing but a temporary buffer to hide my pain.

  A week ago, my sister Leeza paid me a surprise visit. Needless to say, she didn’t like the way I was “living” and refused to let me grieve in silence. She said my methods were unhealthy and that someone should be there to help me along the way.

  Well, she nominated herself.

  After a day of bickering back and forth, Leeza and I packed what was left of my and Tyler’s life together, loaded it into his . . . my truck, and made the trek from Lakeland back to Savannah. Leeza followed behind me, and I cried almost the entire drive, the ghost of his cologne and old memoires haunting my every mile.

  In anticipation of my homecoming, my parents took the liberty of preparing my old bedroom, thinking all I would need on my path to recover from my grief was a fresh coat of paint and a brand new set of sheets.

  Much to their surprise, I refused to return to my childhood home. I didn’t need either of them breathing down my neck or offering unsolicited advice on how I should be coping. They would suffocate me, and I didn’t have the strength to deal with them just yet. With some convincing, mostly by Leeza, they “allowed” me to stay in the cottage a quarter mile from the dock, as if I were some child who needed permission. I know their hearts were in the right place, but I didn’t need—or want—their worry. I wanted Ty.

  Holding a tight grip around the neck of the bottle, I crossed the large open space and headed for my new bedroom. With one foot past the threshold, my eyes locked on the bed. It was in that split second that I wished I hadn’t listened to Leeza and had brought the bed Tyler and I had shared. The one that I could cuddle into his side and be enveloped by the indention his body had left. But, of course, Leeza had to go and convince me that leaving it behind would put me one step closer to a fresh start.

  The curtains in the room were open, so I walked over to them and yanked them shut, needing to black out any kind of light. The darkness in the room matched the darkness in my heart.

  With the bottle tucked to my chest, I slid down the side of the mattress and settled onto the floor.

  How do I survive this?

  “God, you’re such a liar . . .” I mumbled before taking a sip of Jack, wishing I could go back and change what had happened. Tried harder to convince Ty to choose a different career, go to college . . . something . . . anything that wouldn’t have cost him his life.

  I took another sip. The fifth I started with was down to a half inch of amber liquid.

  It wasn’t enough.

  It was never enough.

  I was desperate for the whiskey to soothe my pain and numb my heart so my mind could be at ease. At times, the hurt and loneliness became too heavy to bear.

  Crushing.

  Suffocating.

  And sometimes, when the pain and longing were too much, they were crushed into the diamond of anger.

  Sometimes, I hated him for leaving me.

  One would think the liquor would help me forget, but it did the complete opposite. This was how I found him. On the heels of that thought, I reached for the nightstand and pulled open the drawer, rifling around until my fingers brushed the cold metal of his wedding band.

  I set the gold ring on the floor beside me, reflecting on what that precious metal symbolized to Tyler and me.

  Love, trust, and fidelity for all eternity.

  Emotionally, I was spent. There would be nights I would lay
in the dark, bargaining with God, striking up a deal. Never too proud to make empty promises, saying anything in hopes of getting him back.

  “I’ll pray . . . I’ll do anything you ask, just please make it stop hurting.” My eyes burned. “Please just bring him back to me.”

  “I’ll go to church every Sunday, do whatever it takes. Just let me take his place.”

  It came to a point where I would wait for the tears even if they didn’t fall. I lived in a perpetual state of sleep deprivation.

  Tonight was no different.

  “What happened to ‘I’ll love you forever’?” I spat. The heat from the alcohol gave me the courage to let my anger seep through. I eyed our wedding picture, which Tyler insisted always be displayed on his side of the bed. I had moved it to my side, placing it right next to my favorite picture of him in his fatigues.

  We didn’t get our forever, and he was never coming back. Even knowing that, I still hated that every one of my family members thought I should pull myself together and move on. They thought I had mourned long enough, as if there were a time limit on how long a heart should bleed.

  “I know you’re hurting now, but in time, the pain won’t be so bad,” Daddy had claimed as he pulled me in for a hug after the service. “One day at a time, Lilly Bear.”

  It took a year for my mother to breach the topic of my moving on.

  “Maybe you should think about dating? Put yourself out there. I’m sure I could find you a nice young man. That should put your mind at ease.”

  That had been six months ago. I knew my parents struggled with how to help, but it was my mother’s suggestion that had me on the verge of wanting to strangle her for being so deeply insensitive. I would have never expected her to suggest something as coldhearted as that.

  Then there were the people I barely even knew. Somehow thinking they could offer their condolences with an opinion attached.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. He’s in a better place,” an old neighbor had offered.

  “Such a waste, he was a bright young man. Should have gone to college and made something of himself. Probably, still be here if he did.” I overheard some random Joe at the memorial service.

  You know what I had to say to each and every one of them?

  Fuck time and fuck them.

  Did any of these people know if Tyler really was in a so-called “better place”? How could they be so sure? Were they truly sorry for my loss, or did they feel obligated under the circumstances to offer their sympathies?

  Why couldn’t they shake my hand and move the fuck along?

  The whispers were grating, and the looks people gave when they thought I wasn’t looking were like claws raking over me. And worst? The pity. The sad eyes and hand squeezes offered no comfort, but were mere reminders that Tyler was dead.

  My husband is fucking dead.

  Not that anyone knew the true hell I existed in. They didn’t feel the pain of losing touch with reality and they didn’t experience the tricks my mind would play, thinking that I saw him standing there. No one saw the way I horded old scraps of paper with his handwriting on them or knew that I called his cell phone just to listen to his recorded voice.

  They didn’t understand how desperately I wanted to hear him whisper my name. What I would give to see his face one more time. Kiss his lips and beg him to find a way to come back to me.

  All I had was his voice in my head, saying, “Lils, baby, I’m here. I love you.”

  I took the last swig from the bottle, no longer feeling the burn, only the warmth as it slid down my throat and coated my chest. I picked up the gold band and stared at it, unblinking. Reminiscing on the day he had slid it on my finger and the words he had whispered, “I love you. Always in love with you.” The band slipped from between my fingers, spinning disgracefully on the cold hard floor before finally falling flat. I followed suit, lying next to the shiny reminder of a promise that came with a price. Until death do us part. Could death even separate two people who truly loved one another?

  “You promised me, Ty. Dammit! You vowed.” My hand squeezed into a fist.

  I tore my eyes away from the ring and glanced around the barren room, a room where Tyler’s presence was close to nonexistent. Where the side of the bed he normally slept on remained cold and empty—like my heart.

  “Who’s going to mow the lawn? Or push the shopping cart so I can ride on the front. You know I hate having to take my car to have the oil changed . . .” Some of those guys were creeps. Besides, Tyler had a way of making a mundane task look sexy. There was always something to be said about a hard-working man. Thinking about it, there were a lot of things I had grown to rely solely on him for. “Who’s going to grow old with me?” I whispered as a lone tear finally fell.

  I was proud of the man Tyler had become, but there were times I hated it just as much.

  Like tonight, somewhere after midnight. All alone after sorting through our chaos of scattered boxes and remnants of a life that should have been. Lying there, wishing he were with me, holding me, and telling me everything would be okay. Hoping that this was all a bad dream, a nightmare that held no truth.

  I covered my palm over Tyler’s ring and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to be there. I would much rather be flying on a cloud high in the sky with the hopes of seeing him . . .

  “Lils?” It sounded like Tyler whispering my name. “Baby?” I opened my eyes slowly to find him sitting across from me on the bench in the bay window. I rose from the mattress and held my weight on one elbow.

  “Ty, is that you?” I blinked a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. “You found me?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, Lils.” He grabbed the beer bottle he had next to him and took a long pull. “You aren’t ever lost, baby, I’m always with you.” The compass tattoo on his wrist glowed like a beacon, exceptionally bright. It was a symbol of our love and a pledge that we would always find our way back to one another.

  “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too. So damn much.”

  I sat up and took him in. Still as handsome as ever, if not more so, and my heart hurt, knowing he was most likely a figment of my imagination.

  Tyler sat there, drinking his beer and staring at me with a hard-to-read expression. It had been quite some time since he last came to me in my dreams; although it never really felt like I was dreaming. Or maybe I was awake in an alternate universe.

  “It’s been a while,” I said.

  “It has. I’ve been busy.” He gave me a lazy grin. “But I’m always with you. Never forget that.”

  I nodded, knowing that as long as he lived in my heart, he would always be with me.

  “Lils?”

  “Yes, Ty?”

  He stalled for a beat. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to leave you.” I nodded again. My throat was thick with emotion. “You’ll be okay. Just know that. Please?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to answer that.

  He didn’t say another word as he stood and smiled before slowly slipping away.

  “Ty!” I freaked. “Don’t leave, please.” I begged, throwing the covers off and running to the window.

  “I’ll see you,” he whispered and then vanished.

  “Time to get up.” A soft voice floated around me.

  Half-dazed and feeling like death, I squinted. Not ready to face the day, I let my lids fall shut. I didn’t have the energy to do this. Couldn’t I have had just one more day to hide away from the rest of the world?

  I sensed my body being lifted, and as a result, my left cheek stung as it peeled away from the cold hardwood floor. My back rested against the side of the mattress. My bones ached, and I groaned as my muscles complained about moving. Then a loud swooshing sound filled my ears and I squeezed my stomach, fighting against the barreling urge to throw up. “Ughh, Leez, what the hell?” I hunched over and grumbled.

  “You drank the whole damn bottle!” Leeza pointed out, her face scrunched in disg
ust as she held the empty bottle up to emphasize her point. She removed Tyler’s wedding band from the floor and set it atop the nightstand next to our wedding picture.

  “It isn’t what it looks like, and what do you care?” I lipped and realized my mistake a second too late.

  She didn’t respond. She just pressed her lips together and cocked an eyebrow, silently warning me to tread carefully. Leeza was not the enemy and would not hesitate to put me in my place. She was the only person in my family who really cared, who didn’t show me any pity but also didn’t forget that my heart was shattered. She didn’t push or conform to the others who thought voicing their opinion was their goddamn right.

  I sighed. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. But you are not spending another day in hiding.” She pulled the shades open, letting the sunlight filter in. “The sun is out, and it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day, a perfect way to kick off the long weekend. Let me take you to breakfast.”

  “What long weekend?” Apparently, I had lost track of what day it was. Not that it mattered.

  “Memorial Day weekend. Summer is right around the corner.”

  “Oh.” I groaned at the thought of having to actually take a shower and wash my hair. Never mind finding something presentable to wear, or even having the energy to act civilized in the presence of humanity. Then take my miserable self to the cemetery.

  “What if I cook us something?” I asked, knowing there was no way in hell I could possibly complete that task. My stomach roiled in protest at the mere thought of food, and in the next second, my hand was cupped over my mouth as I launched myself toward the bathroom.

  I fell to my knees at the toilet and relieved my empty stomach, expelling nothing but the remnants of the amber poison. I sucked in deep breaths between gags, my eyes started to burn then water, and a rancid aftertaste lingered on my tongue.

  Maybe this is what a slow death feels like.

  “You should quit that shit, Lilly. Eventually, it’ll become a habit. The devil and that damn bottle are going to kill you.” Leeza crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorjamb. “There are far better and less destructive ways of grieving.” Not an ounce of pity. My sister was taking the polite, tough love route.