by Sara Hubbard
“Hey, babe. I just got home and wanted to give you one last chance to come and keep me company.”
He’s persistent; I’ll give him that. “Um...I can’t right now.”
“Still running that errand?”
“Yeah.”
“K, babe. I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Love you.”
“K.” I am the worst person in the whole world. From the look on Ethan's face, I'm not the only one who thinks this.
6
ETHAN
My hearing has always been remarkable. I wish this weren't true when I hear the dipshit on the other end of her cell phone tell the girl who owns my heart that he loves her. The only thing that stops me from losing my mind is she doesn’t say it back. Unfortunately, I don’t know if she refrains because of me, or because she doesn’t feel the same way about him. She’d never say it if she didn’t mean it. Fuck, she could barely say it to me when she loved me—and I know she loved me. If she felt one ounce of what I felt for her all those years, she loved me, even if she didn't believe in it.
As a kid, I made it my mission to prove to her love not only existed but that she was worthy of it.
She dips her eyes as she tucks her phone back into her purse. Her cheeks blush to accompany her obvious embarrassment. I try to read her face.
Does she? Doesn’t she? It’s enough to drive me mad.
“What’s his name?”
Looking sheepish, she folds and unfolds her paper napkin. “Charlie.”
“And what does Charlie do?” I lean my elbows on the table, raising a hand up to brush my thumb back and forth across the stubble below my bottom lip.
“He’s a doctor.”
“Of course he is.”
Frowning, she leans back in her seat and folds her arms over her chest. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Just say what you want to say, Ethan,” she says with a frustrated sigh.
“Fine. Let’s see if I’m off the mark here. He’s a nice guy with a great job that more than pays the bills. He comes from a great family. They have a summer home and you and this ass clown go and spend time there in the summers. Sound about right?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” he chuckles, but there’s no humor to it. “Before you were mine, you dated these guys that were so fucking boring. They were the kind of guys that looked fantastic on paper, but there was never anything to them. They didn’t get you hot.”
She clucks her tongue at me.
“No chemistry. No intensity. Nothing. Just a nice guy who was safe. And you’ve always loved safe, which is why you never gave me a chance until just after I got my first contract. Then I was safe because I was leaving.”
“Sometimes I really hate you,” she says.
“Because I’m right.”
“Because you’re a smug asshole. Charlie is a great guy and we have great chemistry.”
“Well, that’s great. I’m happy you’re happy. Make sure you invite me to the wedding.”
She picks up her fork. “I could stab you right now.”
“Then you’d have two Michaels to look after in the hospital. I like my water lukewarm.”
“Lukewarm? What are you talking about?”
“For my sponge bath.”
“Ugh. You and your brother are two peas in a pod.”
“Did he ask you for a sponge bath?”
She frowns at me.
“That little shit. Wait until he wakes up.”
“Stop. He was just teasing me, like you always did.”
“I’m not teasing, Annie.”
I watch her swallow as she glares at me. Yeah, I mean it, baby. And now I’m thinking about her rubbing me down, I’m thinking about a whole lot more than a bath. My jeans become a little too tight and I shift in my seat as I adjust my cock. Her gaze dips. She knows what she’s doing to me. I just don’t know if I’m having the same effect on her. I fucking hate that about girls. Guys’ attraction is obvious. With them, not so much.
“Ethan,” she says, quietly.
The waitress comes back with two plates, one with a burger and fries for me and one with a BLT for her. She hesitates, smiling down at me as if she is waiting for me to say something when all I want is for her to leave so I can continue my conversation with Annie. I will not let her off the hook for our breakup, no matter how badly she wants to blame me for it.
“What were we talking about?” she asks as she picks up the ketchup bottle and taps some out onto the end of the plate near her fries.
“Your boyfriend,” I remind her.
“I don’t want to talk about Charlie, so drop it, okay?”
“Consider it dropped, just like he will be before long.”
She groans and then ignores me, focusing on her food. I do the same, but soon I find myself a little sad. Her eyes are glassy and she looks a little wounded and I worry I’ve hurt her. I mean, I suppose I meant to hurt her, but now that I’ve actually done it, I feel like an ass and there’s a tightness in my chest.
“Hey,” I say, but she refuses to look at me. “Hey,” I say, a little louder, slapping the table lightly with my hand to get her attention. She meets my eyes. “I'm sorry. You’re right; I don’t know him and I probably don’t know you all that well anymore.”
She huffs at me. “That’s the problem, Ethan. You know me better than anyone. And you probably always will.”
“Same goes for you, you know.”
“Maybe we could be friends again?” she says.
Friends. Fuck, that word kills me. Friends with Annie? I’ve loved her since she showed up in Rawdon at age twelve, abandoned by her parents and sent to live with a grandmother that she never even knew existed. Her hair dirty and her hand me down clothes that did nothing for her shape. She’s always been thin, but she was a toothpick then. Scrawny, with matted brown hair. I swear she never brushed it. But her face...her hollow, big, brown eyes. She haunted me from the first time I saw her. She haunts me still. In my dreams, on the ice. I think of her always. She can’t know how tight her hooks were on me—how they are still.
Love at first sight.
I swear it was, even though I’ve never told her so, and she wouldn’t believe me if I did. She didn’t believe in it. Probably still doesn’t. But she can never know how fast my heart beat when she sat next to me in class at school, her shoulders rounded, trying to disappear into the background. I smiled at her and she smiled back, shy and scared. That was it. I was a goner.
I had to have her. I knew one day I would, but I also knew that she was so delicate I would break her. I couldn’t keep her forever, even though I foolishly thought at that time I could.
She wouldn’t know how I felt until years later. She thought I came around to loving her when she finally admitted that she loved me, but that’s not the truth. Truth was I never thought I deserved her and it took her telling me she didn’t want anyone but me for me to finally let myself have a chance with her. She told me I could make her happy and for a short while, I believed I could. Truth was it was over before it started, and I’ll be damned if she hasn’t ruined me for the rest of my life. I’m hers. Always will be. And she wants to be friends? Fuck.
But then...
I’ll take her anyway she’ll have me. That’s the thing about love, I guess. It makes you do things you wouldn’t otherwise do. It makes you forget what you want in order to make the other person happy. Makes you hold on long after it’s good for you, because the thought of losing that love is crippling. Losing her again—completely—would finish off what’s left of my broken heart. So I close my eyes, knowing full well I’m traveling down a road I’ll never recover from, and I give her the slightest of nods.
* * *
“What’s got you rattled?” Manny says the next day, breaking me from my stare. I sit on the radiator by the window, looking out at the street below. The wind whistles as if there are cracks in the windows, but I think it’s comi
ng from the radiator. The trees sway outside. It might snow today. It felt like it when I walked from the car to the hospital this morning.
“Nothing,” I lie, turning to face him.
“You’re such an awful liar.”
I frown. “No, usually I’m a good one.”
“Well, we’re blood. And I lived with you for sixteen years, so you don’t fool me.”
“Yeah...” I play with my fingers, noting a cut to my index finger and I’m not sure where I got it. I rub it, like it might make the gentle sting go away. It’s doesn’t hurt, though, not really. Not when I’ve got a bigger, more piercing pain in the pit of my stomach and in my chest.
“Man, what are you doing? If you still love her, tell her.”
“What? Shut up, man. I don’t still love her.”
“Bullshit.”
“She’s dating some doctor.” Laughing, all I can do is shake my head. “Probably some uptight douchebag in a button-down shirt and slacks.”
“He’s a nice guy, actually. I don’t mind him.”
My jacket sits on the other side of the radiator and I pick it up and half-heartedly chuck it at him, aiming for his legs and not his middle.
“How the fuck would you know?”
“Um...well...” Manny looks away, fumbles a few seconds more. “He’s kind of my doctor.”
“What?” I let out a long laugh, but it’s more like I’m laughing along with the universe that is clearly out to make me suffer. “That’s perfect. Just fucking perfect.”
“I mean, I prefer you, but since you don’t love her anymore, she doesn’t really have a choice to make, right? Might as well have her with someone like that. Can't do much better than a doctor, right?”
“You’re a fucking dick,” I say, standing and making for the door.
“Talk to her!” Manny says, in a stern voice. “Don’t be a stubborn ass.”
“Bite me.”
“Hey! Hey!” Manny says, stopping me. “Where are you going?”
“Coffee.”
“Oh...get me one. With milk and sugar. No, just get half coffee and half hot chocolate.”
I nod and leave the room. I really didn’t want a coffee. I just wanted him to stop pressing me. He’s knows I still love her. I know it. I’m just not about to admit to it. Truth is she’s probably better off without me. What I said to her was true. She likes safe. Regular and secure. My life isn’t one she can adjust to or feel secure in. I travel all the time; I’m never home. She couldn’t travel with me and still nurse, which I know she probably loves. And she couldn’t stay home while I travel because of the noise in her head. She’d always be worried I wouldn’t come home to her, no matter how much I tell her I love her.
Her parents. They did a fucking number on her and I hate them for that. They’ve made it so hard for her to be happy. For her to trust. I had a shitty upbringing too, after Mom died, but at least my parents were present. At least my mom loved us. Dad didn’t become a huge prick until he started drinking again after Mom died. He was an alcoholic long before and he quit because of her. Once she was gone, he went right back to his old ways.
But my life has nothing on Annie's.
Shit. I remember the first time I got up the courage to talk to her. She was down the road in the park, on the swings, sitting alone with her head bowed. Sometimes I went there to think, but then she started going regularly and because I wanted to be alone, I stayed back, watched. Not creepy-like, but curious. Interested. Those first few weeks she moved here she went to the park every day. I looked forward to seeing her there. I imagined what her story was, who she was before she came here, and then I wanted to know for sure.
I approached her, not sure how she’d respond, but not really caring. I wanted to meet her, to talk to her. She could tell me to leave or to stay. I’d accept either. She looked up from the sparse gravel as she gently rocked on her feet, sitting on the wooden swing. Without asking, I stopped and took a seat on the swing beside her. We rocked side by side, not saying a word. That was day one. And I did this the next day and the next, until a whole week went by. I still hadn’t gotten up the guts to talk to her. Honestly, I kind of liked just sitting with her in silence.
Then one day, after I first heard my mom was sick, I sat down, my face dried of tears, but my eyes still most likely blood shot.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw her watching me. I worried she’d think me a pussy. Weak. So I refused to meet her eyes. But then she did something I could never have prepared myself for, something that I needed more than I realized. She reached her hand out and left it there, an open hand and an open invitation. And I took it. I never shared my feelings, or let anyone into my heart before, but in that moment I opened those doors wide and I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders.
“I’m Annie,” she said quietly, still focusing her gaze on the woods on the other end of the park.
“Ethan. My friends call me Dutch.”
“Why?”
Now I had her attention. “I guess ’cause I’m fast like Dutch Alders.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Annie said flatly.
“He plays hockey and he’s really good.” I sniffed and used my arm to wipe my nose with my sleeve. “I’m going to be as good as him someday. But my dad says I’m dreaming.”
“It’s good to dream. Sometimes I’d rather dream than be awake.”
“I know what you mean. What do you want to do...when you get older, I mean?”
Annie thought about that for a moment. But it didn’t take her long to come up with an answer.
“I want a family,” she said, confident.
“That’s it?” I asked, not expecting her reply.
“That’s enough, isn’t it?”
“Sure, if it’s what you want, I guess. But it seems like an awfully small request.”
“Not from where I’m sitting,” Annie said. “My mom took me to camp a year ago and never came to pick me up. I thought something happened to her when people came and took me to live with strangers, but then I found out my mom just didn’t want me anymore.”
“Wow.” I squeezed her hand, just enough to offer her comfort. I’d thought I had it bad.
“I live with my grandma now. She wants me. She wants me to be happy.”
“Annie?”
“Yeah, Dutch?”
“If you stick around for a while, I’ll want you too.”
Annie let go of my hand and giggled nervously. It was magical, the prettiest thing I’d ever heard. And I realized in that moment, under the canopy of her thick, brown hair, that she had the face of an angel. My angel.
“I don’t think so, Dutch,” she said softly.
“Well, I can’t wait to prove you wrong.” I never meant anything more in my whole life.
7
ANNIE
I wake in my bed with my cat, Felix, stretched out across my face. I breathe through his fur and gently roll him off me before giving him a quick scratch on his tummy. He purrs lightly, his tail slapping my shoulder. We cuddle for a little bit and I try to get back to sleep, but can’t seem to manage it. I’m off work today and I don’t really have plans. Charlie is working all day, so my time is my own.
I work tonight at seven and I need to have a nap at some point, but that will have to wait until later. My mind is too busy right now.
When Ethan dropped me off at my car last night, we had this moment where we just sat in his car and said nothing. Eventually, as I propelled myself forward and began to get out, he grabbed my hand. Still saying nothing, the silence continued. It broke my heart to see him so full of emotion, with words on the tip of his tongue that I couldn’t allow him to speak. Both of us know he’s not staying. Our time is over. I have no ambition of being a hockey girlfriend or wife. I can’t travel constantly and be around his celebrity friends and their girlfriends and wives and I can’t stay in Philly, only to have him constantly away from me. No. I just can’t do it. And that's even if he still wants me.
&nb
sp; Charlie is safe and stable. I will have him with me always, by my side. His family is here and whenever we need them, they’ll be there for us. With them, I have everything I always wanted—except for Ethan.
“Stop it,” I tell myself out loud. That ship has sailed. But that doesn’t mean I can turn my back on Ethan and his family. As much as I want to stay away from them and from him, I feel like they need me. Every single one of them. His dad wasn’t always as bad as he is now. He just lost his way when he lost his wife. And now he’s left alone to basically drink himself to death because Ethan’s gone and Manny seems to just drop by to sleep at that house. That disgusting shamble of a house.
None of these things are my business, but I don’t care. I decide to make them my business. I just can’t stand by and let people I care about suffer. Nope. Not on my watch.
I throw on some jeans and a T-shirt, toss my hair up in a messy bun, and grab my purse. Before walking out the door, I give Felix his breakfast and some milk. He meows at me as I leave. “I know, buddy,” I tell him. “I’ll be back soon.”
My plans are quickly derailed when I open my door and find a man on the other side. I practically jump out of my skin. “Jesus, Charlie! You scared me.”
He chuckles and raises one of his hands, producing a tray of coffee; well, almost coffee.
He pulls out an iced coffee and hands it to me. “I had a lull in my morning and thought I'd drop by and see you for a few minutes.”
“That's really nice of you,” I say, taking a sip of my drink, the ice cold caffeine-drenched liquid snaking down my throat.
He leans in, giving me a kiss on my lips and walks by me. He's also carrying a bag of food. “Breakfast sandwich?” he asks, setting it down on the butcher-block kitchen island.
“Um...suuuure.”
“Where you going somewhere?”
“Yeah...I just had...”
“Another errand?”
I nod, smiling, hoping he doesn't see my guilt. I shouldn't feel guilty. I've done nothing wrong. Yes, I still care a great deal for Ethan and his brother, and I may have let him hold me—letting us both find comfort in one another—but I haven't done anything bad, have I? So why do I feel like I've cheated?