“I’m not going in that house with you. You’re wasting your time. Nothing you have to say will change anything,” she says, pointing to the house.
“Why does everything have to be so difficult with you?” I grab her hand and pull her towards the house. She digs her heels in and stands her ground.
“You can’t make me go in there. Take me home, now!”
I know I can’t force her. For this to work she needs to take this first step all on her own. I stop pulling her arm, and place my hand softly in hers. I take a deep breath, squeeze her hand gently and look in her eyes. If there’s any hope, or anyone who is listening to my silent pleading out there, she will see the look on my face and feel the love in my eyes. Her scowl softens as her lips part with a small inhalation of breath. There she saw it.
She rips her hand from mine and walks into the cabin, stomping her feet like a petulant child. The cabin isn’t much, but I built it myself with my own two hands. The property itself is ten acres of rolling trees. I cut down some of the massive Pine trees and built this small log cabin as an escape for myself. I needed to be able to get away from the busy city and the crazy people in it. I needed to hear the leaves blowing in the trees and the birds singing in flight. I needed to feel the warm sun on my face as it rises in the East, unobstructed by skyscrapers and pollution. Those are just some of the little things you forget in the hustle and bustle of a big city. It turned out to become a safe house, but it still serves its purpose, and I come up here whenever I can, whenever I need to be reminded that there is more to life than coffee houses and fake people. I come here to enjoy the sounds of nature as they were meant to be. I come here to recharge and connect to my roots.
The inside is just one big room. Last year I was able to connect to the city’s water and electric at the main road. It cost me a whack, but it was well worth it. There’s a queen size bed against the far end, and a small kitchen to the right. I recently renovated the kitchen by adding in a small refrigerator and stove when I had the electricity put in. Before that, it was just a small propane camping stove and whatever cooler I happened to bring. There are shelves on the wall with plenty of canned foods, but I usually eat what I hunt and what nature provides for me. A small wooden table with four chairs that I also made by hand sits in the center of the room on top of a thick, wool braided rug. There is a massive stone fireplace to the left, and that’s it. Up until a few months ago, I had an outhouse as the only bathroom, and I debated on adding in the functioning bathroom. But right now, I couldn’t be happier I did.
Still standing just inside the doorway, she looks around wide eyed taking in her small surroundings. She walks to the table and traces her finger in the grooves of the planks of wood. She eyes the bed, and then moves to the fireplace. I pull out a chair and wait for her to say something. After about ten minutes, she walks over to the bed and lays down with her back turned to me. Within a few minutes, I hear her heavy breathing. She fell asleep. I know from the dark, sunken circles under her eyes, that this is exactly what she needs. After she rests, then the talking begins.
I turn the chair so it’s facing her, cross my arms over my chest and my feet at my ankles and stretch out. I plan on letting her sleep as long as she needs to. I’m not going anywhere. As I look at her small, still frame, and watch her steady, even breaths rising and falling, I can’t help but wish she could just hear me and know how much I love her. That I only thought I was doing what was best for her, and just how wrong I was. I never meant to hurt her and push her back into the hell that she’s living in now. I must have fallen asleep myself, because the next thing I feel is my cell phone buzzing in my pocket. I dig it out of the front pocket of my jeans and look at the display. It says ‘Asher Calling’.
“Asher, what’s wrong?” I answer in a whisper. For him to be calling so late, there has to be something wrong. The silence on the other end confirms my suspicions. I hear his fast breathing and a devastating sob that I’ve only heard once before from him, the day his first wife, Olivia, died. The timing couldn’t be worse, but there is no way in hell I won’t be there for Asher when he needs me. Not after everything he and his family have done for me.
“Where are you?” I ask concerned.
“Home…Max…it’s my dad,” he forces out.
“I’m on my way, it may take me some time to get there, but I’m on my way, I’ll be there, I’m coming right now,” I assure him.
I walk quietly over to Chloe. I don’t want to wake her up. I pull the covers up to her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “You sleep angel, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I kiss her temple and write her a note, and leave it on the table under a can of soup. One can hope she’ll eat it, right? I hate to do this to her, but I can’t risk her leaving if she wakes up before I get back. Because I have also used this house for work, I have installed locks on the outside of the house in order to keep suspects in. Feeling conflicted and with a heavy heart, I lock her inside the house. It’s for her own safety as much as it is a piece of mind for myself. She can’t climb out of the window either. The one window that’s in the house was built into the wall and doesn’t open.
When I get to Asher’s house, it’s very late, but his driveway is lined with cars and it looks like most of his family is still here. I rush into the house and I’m immediately hit in the gut with a freight train of sorrow. I don’t need anyone to say the words to me. I can feel it. Samuel is gone. I can feel the loss deep in my heart. My own father means nothing to me, but the one man who I looked up to, who taught me how to be a man is gone. I can’t even take two steps in Asher’s house. The vice that constricts my heart is too much to bear. This proves once again that it’s way easier to never have loved at all. Why put yourself in this position in the first place.
I spot Amelia and trace her as she crosses the room. She walks straight to Asher, taps him on the shoulder, and points to me still frozen in the doorway. I stand there with my hand still on the door knob for fear if I let go, the floor would swallow me whole in the depths of the grief emanating in this house. Asher’s grief when he lost Olivia was something I had never seen another human being suffer, but all of these Wellingtons and their combined grief is suffocating.
Asher walks up to me with tears streaming down his face. I can’t control my own as I shake my head no. With a closed fist he wraps his arm around my upper back and pulls me in hard to his chest. Under normal circumstances I would never let a man embrace me. It’s just not done. There are no walls when it comes to the loss of someone that has played such an important role in your life. These people, this family, are all I have ever had. To lose one of them is just too much, and something I have never felt so strongly before.
Samuel’s damn speech and his damn fucking stars plays in my head. His star will never go anywhere. Even if I have to put the damn thing back myself. It will always be the fucking brightest one in the sky. Damn sentimental old man. Ava walks up to us and closes the front door forcing me to let go of the handle.
“Has anyone seen or heard from Chloe? I’ve been trying to get a hold of her for hours,” she says. Her words are laced with worry.
Kyle and Amelia also make their way over to us as Asher finally releases me from his death grip. I wipe my tears, look down at my shoes, take a deep breath and look Kyle in the eyes.
“I kidnapped her,” I admit.
The flair of anger in Kyle’s eyes erupts before he can think better of why he’s at Asher’s house in the first place.
“You did what?” he roars. Amelia practically jumps out of her skin, and then places her hands on his arms in an attempt to calm him down.
“Why would you do such a thing?” Amelia asks.
“Everyone calm down. Something had to be done. You all know it. She can’t keep going on the way she is. I have a plan and I need all of your help. If we don’t stop this now, I’m afraid this will kill her.”
“I agree. What do you need us to do?” Ava asks.
“Uh, hell no, you take me
to her, right now! What the fuck is wrong with you? You kidnapped her? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kyle asks.
“Look, calm down. I think this is what she needs. I think if anyone can reach her, it’s me,” I say trying to calm him down.
“No, I won’t calm down. I’m her twin brother. If anyone can help her, it’s me,” he says getting in my face. I calm my shit, and take a step back.
Amelia puts her hand on Kyle’s chest and in a calm quiet voice she says, “I think Max is right. I think we should let him do what he needs to do. If he can’t get through to her, you can step in, OK?”
“You’ve got a limited time, and I want to see her. You can’t keep her from us,” he says.
“Oh, you’ll see her alright. All of you will. I know just what I need to do. You just need to trust me on this.”
Chapter 7
Chloe
My mind was reeling trying to think just what Max had up his sleeve. Mostly I didn’t care, but there was a part of me that wished, in some freaky, twisted way, that he finally had enough of me. That he was taking me out in the middle of nowhere to kill me and leave my body to decompose with the rest of the trash. When he kept driving and driving, I started to freak out. I have work in the morning. If I’m ever going to work my way back up to be equal with Kyle, I can’t miss a day. He finally stopped and got out of the truck, opened my door and tried to pull me in his little house of who the hell knows what he uses it for out in the middle of Timbuktu. But there was no way in hell I was going in there with him. When he turned around, took my hand, squeezed it and looked at me, I knew when I saw that look in his eyes that there was no use fighting it anymore.
The house on the outside is nothing special. It’s just a bunch of logs piled one on top of the other. But the inside, as plain as it is, just has a charm that speaks to me. It’s simple and warm. I’m not positive, but I’m willing to bet that he built it with his own two hands. The kitchen table is rustic, and for a split second I could see myself sitting down and eating a meal at it. The fireplace mantel is spectacular. You can see all the hand carved chisel marks on it. They give it a welcoming feeling that makes you want to sit in front of a roaring fire with a hot cup of cocoa. The mantel piece alone must have taken hours to complete. It’s cool and smooth to the touch and there’s even an elaborate scrolling pattern carved on the front of it.
Max didn’t say a word as I look around. I feel his eyes on me as he sits in a chair at the table, just watching me. These past few months of none to little sleep, all of a sudden seem to catch up to me, as I stand there frozen with my hand on the mantle.
I hadn’t felt safe to sleep since the day Max broke up with me, since my demons have taken over every part of my conscious and subconscious life. Having him here with me though, in this small room, all I can think of is that bed against the wall and sleep. I just can’t keep my eyes open for one more second, even if I tried. I walk over to the bed, put one knee on the cool crisp quilted comforter, and curl up in the fetal position. The all too familiar scent that is only Max wraps around me like a warm, safe hug, and the instant my head hits the pillow, I’m out.
I wake with a startle, not because I was having a nightmare, which surprises me, but because I had this overwhelming sense of loss. I can’t explain the feeling, but it’s a heavy weight of tremendous loss. It takes me a minute to remember where I am and just how I got here. I don’t know what time we arrived, and I’m not even sure what time it is now, but the house is completely dark and quiet. I don’t even need to turn around. I can feel Max isn’t in the room. The house is way too quiet and there isn’t any background noise to help drown out what I know is coming. I knew getting away from it all here while I slept was too good to be true, and sooner or later it’d all catch up to me.
I know my mind is starting to play tricks on me as my breathing increases and the smell of stale beer wafts past my nose. It all just seems so real. That smell, how can that smell find me all the way out here? I’m in the middle of nowhere; it should be pine trees and wild flowers, not this. I squeeze my eyes shut and tell myself over and over again that it’s just not true, it’s not real. He’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore. But just like last time, and the countless times before that, it does no good. I can feel the sweat forming on my skin and the unmistakable feeling of terror taking over in the pit of my stomach. It’s like an unstoppable force as it branches out and slithers up my chest. Its relentless, dark, unforgiving hands wrap around my throat, finger by cruel finger, and start to squeeze. It brings me back to my condo and the unwanted memory of that man’s hands lifting me off the ground by my throat.
I start to gasp for air and I can hear his footsteps getting closer and closer. I hear him say, ‘Eye for an eye. You stole what I loved most in this world, I’m going to steal you from the brother who loves you the most’. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, because I know what’s coming next. As his hand touches my arm, I begin to scream. The air in the room shifts, and the smell of beer is replaced with Max’s comforting outdoor woodsy scent. He turns me around, and the second my eyes lock with his, I grab him behind the neck and jump in his arms. I lock my legs around his waist as he sits me in his lap and takes a seat on the bed.
“Shh, it’s OK, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he repeats over and over again as he strokes my hair. I can feel my heart thudding in my chest as it ricochets between the two of us. I try and count the beats in an attempt to slow them down. Max pulls me away slightly to look in my eyes.
“You’re OK, it’s just me. No one’s going to hurt you ever again. I swear that to you. Do you hear me? No one will ever hurt you again,” he says with such conviction that it’s impossible not to believe him. As safe as I feel in his arms, that feeling that I felt when he ripped my heart out comes crashing down. I back away from him and plaster myself against the wall to get as far away from him as I can. He doesn’t say a word. He stands up and walks over to the table. He puts one hand on top like he needs it to hold himself up. His other hand covers his eyes as his fingers dig into his skin. He doesn’t make a sound as his shoulders heave violently. At first I thought he was laughing at me, but it quickly becomes clear that he’s…crying. I’ve never seen him this way. I didn’t even think it was possible for a man like Max to cry. Especially for him to show such raw, unbridled emotion to another human being. What am I talking about? Of course it’s possible. On the outside, Max is this rough and hard around the edges biker type. But if you’re lucky and he lets you in, which I don’t think he’s let very many people in, except maybe Asher and me, you get to see a side of Max that you would’ve never expected. He’s soft and thoughtful. He has always put me first in everything he’s done. He’s romantic, oh, God, he was being romantic with the flowers and I threw them away.
I get off the bed and walk up behind him and press my body to the back of his. Before I even realize what he’s doing, he turns around and holds me so tight, I gasp for air. He buries his nose in the crook of my neck and lets out an agonizing sob that echoes through the small cabin. His body shakes uncontrollably. I wrap my arms around his back and hang on for dear life. I feel the wetness in my hair as he lets go of whatever it is that’s weighing him down. As much as I try not to, I feel a layer being chipped away as my resolve weakens.
Max and I lay down in the bed together and I held him all night. He cried for hours, and even after he fell asleep, his body still racked with the occasional sob. I eventually fell asleep as well, a peaceful sleep, wrapped firmly around Max.
The next morning I woke, and again I had to think of where I was and just how I got there. Overnight Max and I had switched positions; I was now wrapped securely in his arms. His arm is heavy over my chest, and his right thigh is laced between my legs. Not even the demons of my subconscious could penetrate his hold. I thought I had heard something and that’s why I woke up. I feel so safe and peaceful I don’t want to move. I know this can’t happen. Max and I will never be a couple again, but for just a li
ttle while, I want to be selfish and feel safe and protected. I close my eyes again to once again hear a noise. This time it registers that it’s a knock at the door. Who can be all the way out here? Max gives me a squeeze, kisses me on the cheek, and then hauls his large frame over me and heads to the door. He cracks the door open just enough to where I can’t see who’s there.
“Yeah, this is a good time, come on in man,” he says. He opens the door to Asher. I hear a female voice just out of view say, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” It’s Willow. She places her hand on his shoulder, looks inside, offers a small smile, then reaches in and closes the door. Asher eyes me on the bed. As I sit up, that overwhelming sense I had of loss last night washes over me again. The look on Asher’s face tells a thousand stories. Something bad has happened, something really bad. His eyes are red and swollen. He grabs a chair from the table and sets it in front of me.
“I’ll be outside with Willow if either of you need anything,” Max says. He places his hand on the doorknob, and the other flat on the wooden door. He hangs his head, then turns around and gives me this defeated look that sends my heart plummeting in my chest.
Asher takes a seat, and then takes my hand in his. His tears run like a river down his face as he places his other hand over mine and squeezes.
“I...uh, came here to talk to you and share a piece of me in hopes that it will help you come back to us…” he starts to say.
I interrupt him by saying, “Asher you don’t need to…”
“Yes, I do. Just listen. Many people look at me and my family and think ‘what I wouldn’t give to walk in his shoes. He has a beautiful wife and two amazing kids. He’s rich and lives in a gorgeous huge house and gets chauffeured around in a Bentley’. Yes, I have all of those things. But to walk in my shoes now, you would have had to walk in my shoes from the beginning. I have earned, and I’ve worked hard, and I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve accomplished. I didn’t have it easy. I didn’t have my company handed to me. I’ve been knocked down on my ass more times than I care to remember. I’ve been dealt some shitty cards that have torn me down almost to nothing. I lost my first wife, Olivia, to a senseless drunk driving accident. That day I thought my life was over too. I had no desire to stay here in a world that could be so cruel as to take someone so loving and innocent from me. It took years and a voice from beyond the grave, for me to take a chance and open my heart to love again.
A Fighting Chance Page 7