by Tara Sivec
I feel her stiffen in my arms, and before I can even blink, she’s shoving away from me, leaving my arms empty and cold without the feel of her body in them. I watch her swipe angrily at the tears on her face and take a few steps away from me, her eyes narrowing in irritation. The moment of her letting down the wall she’s built up around her and letting me in has passed and it fucking hurts. I can see it written all over her face that she regrets having even one minute of weakness with me. I feel raw and vulnerable and pissed off that she’s dismissing me so easily.
“Don’t shut down on me, Shelby, please,” I beg softly.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” she says with a shake of her head, gesturing between the two of us. “It’s this damn room. It makes me emotional and I…I’m with someone else, Eli. You need to understand that and just stop. I don’t need you to comfort me and I don’t need you to think you need to make it all better. You can’t. Just let it go and move on.”
She moves to walk around me and I quickly reach out and grab her arm to stop her from leaving.
“Bullshit,” I argue, watching her eyes widen with even more anger. “You can’t just give me something like that, let down your walls and let me see you, and then pull away like it’s no big deal. You can’t kiss me back like you did in that fucking office tonight and then tell me you don’t need me and you don’t still want me. I can’t leave you alone and I can’t move on because you’re everything to me. You always have been and you always will be, and I know damn well you feel the same, even if you want to stand here, look me right in the fucking eyes, and lie to me.”
She pulls harder against my hold on her arm, but I refuse to let go. I hate that she’s hurting and I hate that I’m the cause for all of it, but I’m not about to let her leave and pretend like what she gave me when I had her in my arms just moments ago wasn’t real.
“I don’t give a shit if you’re with someone else, he’ll never love you the way I do. He’ll never fight for you the way I do and he’ll never fucking see you the way I do!” I shout, knowing the words I say will piss her off and not caring one fucking bit about it. I want her fired up. I want her to get angry and let go and prove my point that she hasn’t moved on any more than I have.
“I’m standing here in this room, alive and breathing and fighting because of YOU! Because in between the torture and the beatings and the fucking hell, year after year, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I didn’t WANT to get you out of my head. Your smell, your smile, your laugh, your taste, your touch…it’s the only fucking thing that made me want to wake up every damn day and go through that shit again and again. Thinking about you and fighting to get back to you is the only way I could fucking survive, so don’t stand here and tell me to move on! Don’t fall apart in my arms and then lie to me!”
“YOU LEFT!” she screams at the top of her lungs, finally giving me what I want and I quickly realize Rylan was right. She’s going to rip me apart and it will hurt like a bitch.
“You left me here because you were in love with someone else and then you died! I mourned you and I can’t do this again! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what happened to you and I’m sorry you came back here for nothing but you need to listen to me and just GO! Just leave and move on with your life and forget about me!”
Her body shakes with anger and I know I shouldn’t push this any further, but I can’t stop. She needs to understand and she needs to stop pretending.
“I lied, Shelby! Jesus, you have to know it was all a lie. You have to know after those months we spent together that there never was and never will be anyone else for me. You know I never would have left you if I felt like I had another choice,” I tell her, not wanting to get into everything about her mother and upsetting her more, but it’s the only way I know how to apologize. It’s the only way I know how to make her see that I felt like I didn’t have any other option and get through to her.
“You had a choice!” she shouts, tossing her hands in the air in frustration. “ME! I was your fucking choice and you threw it away with that goddamn note! You couldn’t even be honest with me. Is that supposed to make me feel better? After everything I gave you, everything I shared with you…you couldn’t even be honest! You always had a choice and you chose wrong! I would have done ANYTHING for you, Eli. So no, you didn’t know me at all. You left without a fight because you were in love with someone else and now you’re back, wanting everything to be the way it was and I can’t do that. I can’t go back there. I can’t be here with you, I can’t erase everything that’s happened since you left. Just GO. Leave me alone to let me live my life!”
I stalk closer to her and she moves backward again, trying to put distance between us, but I’m not going to let her. I did what Rylan said, I let her have her moment to be hurt and give me hell for what I did to her, but I’ll be damned if I let her walk away thinking any of this shit is true. We both keep moving until her back hits the mirrors behind her and she has nowhere else to go. Bringing my hands up, I smack them against the glass on either side of her, caging her in.
“I will never forgive myself for leaving you, Shelby. EVER. I’ll never forgive myself for the part I played in what happened to you,” I tell her, leaning closer and softening my voice even though I want to scream right back at her and make her fucking hear what I’m saying and believe it.
“I lied to you in that note, I made a mistake, and I spent six fucking years wishing I could go back and do it differently. Wishing I could touch you and hold you and tell you I love you, take back every stupid decision I made that took me away from you, but I can’t do that. Don’t stand here and tell me I didn’t fight for you, when we both know I fucking did. It might have taken me a few weeks, but I fought for you, dammit! I wrote you, every day for three months when I got to Afghanistan and woke the fuck up. Every goddamn day I wrote to you and I apologized and I begged for you to forgive me and you didn’t. I take full responsibility for the shitty way I left things and how much I hurt you, but don’t you dare stand here and lie to my face, telling me I didn’t fight,” I argue. “I wrote to you, every day, and I fought for you, every fucking day, for MONTHS!”
She moves quickly, bending down and sliding out from under my arms, shaking her head at me as she goes.
“I don’t believe this,” she mutters. “Are you seriously Notebook-ing me right now? You are UNBELIEVABLE!”
Now it’s my turn to shake my head, having no idea what the fuck she’s talking about.
“You have a lot of nerve. And you’re calling ME a liar? You didn’t write me any letters. You’re just saying that because you came back here and can’t get what you want, saying whatever you can to make me give in.”
“Look, I don’t know what notebook you’re talking about and I don’t give a shit. I’m telling you I tried to fight for you and you didn’t respond. But it doesn’t fucking matter. I didn’t give up then and I’m not about to give up now. I don’t care about the letters, I don’t care if you threw them away or burned them or you want to pretend like you never got them. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, so get that through your head!”
She turns away from me, stalks across the room, and I let her go, knowing she’s done listening to me and realizing I need to stop while I’m sort of ahead before this escalates even more and I completely lose my footing. I have no problem letting her leave right now and be pissed at me. Having her pissed and angry is much better than having her indifferent and pretending like she doesn’t care. If she didn’t care, everything I’m feeling would be a waste of time and energy. Every regret and every broken piece of my heart wouldn’t mean a damn thing.
“Go away! Take your lies and your fucking Ryan Gosling references and shove them up your ass!” she finishes, rounding the doorway and moving out of sight.
I chuckle to myself when I hear the door slam shut at the end of the hallway outside the studio. I have no idea who Ryan Gosling is and what he has to do with what just happened here, but I don’t care. She just
proved to me that she hasn’t moved on, no matter how hard she tried to convince me otherwise, and there’s no way I’m giving up now. At least my therapist will be happy I’ve found a hobby.
Chapter 14
Shelby
I’m sorry, I should have told you.”
Slamming a folder full of e-mails down on the desk in my small office in the guest house, I look up at Landry and glare at him.
“You’re damn right you should have told me!” I fire back, watching Landry’s eyes widen in shock.
I never curse in front of him. I’ve never even raised my voice in his presence, and going by the look on his face, he has no idea what is going on.
“It’s bad enough ninety percent of my communication with my mother is done via her assistants through e-mail. You knew what she was planning to do for a week and you didn’t say one word to me. I thought we were friends, Landry.”
The shock on his face is immediately replaced with hurt and I know I should feel bad and want to take the words back, but I don’t and I can’t.
“Friends? Really, Shelby? I’m pretty sure we’re more than friends,” he tells me, moving farther into the room to stand directly on the other side of the desk.
He rests his hands on top of the polished wood and leans forward, his voice getting softer.
“What is going on with you lately? You’re acting differently, you’re dressing differently, you’re speaking to me in a way I’ve never heard before, and you flinch every time I come near you.”
I reach down deep inside me to find the part of myself that should feel upset and guilty, but all I find is anger and the only part of his speech I zone in on is about how I’m dressing differently and it pisses me off.
Pushing the computer chair back, I stand up and round the desk until I’m standing right next to him. I tap the foot of my left leg against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing around the room, daring him to look down at my leg and wince. For years I’ve never worn skirts unless they went well past my knees, or I’ve done away with them altogether and chosen tailored dress slacks to hide my scars. Ever since my fight with Eli a few days ago, I’ve worn nothing but skirts. Sure, they’re not super short or indecent. They still cover most of my scar, the hems stopping a few inches above my knee so only a hint of the bottom of my scar shows, but it’s still out there, for anyone to see.
That damn fight with Eli broke apart something inside me, and now I can’t get a handle on it and pull it back inside. I can’t calm my nerves, I can’t tamp down my anger, and I don’t want to hide.
Landry’s eyes never leave my face even though I’m standing here, silently daring him to look down. Trail across my body until he notices the scar and makes his usual grimacing face of disgust. I want him to do it. I want him to give me a reason to lash out even more and I’m not even sorry for feeling this way. I try to remind myself that he’s a decent man and he’s good to me, but it’s not working. All I see when I look at him right now is a sad little puppy who does everything my mother tells him, using her popularity and my father’s past political connections to get his seat in the state senate. He doesn’t defend me, he doesn’t stick up for me, and he never disagrees with any decision she makes, including the most recent one of taking me off all the charity boards, removing me from almost all of my duties, and basically demoting me to being a receptionist answering the phones for the next few weeks.
“I don’t want to leave for this campaign tour fighting with you, Shelby. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on?” Landry asks softly, resting his hand on my shoulder, his eyes still firmly glued to my face like he has to physically force himself not to look down.
I want to tell him that I’m itching for a fight and he won’t give me one. The louder I get, the more placating his smile becomes and the softer his voice gets. Where something like this used to put me at ease and make me feel safe and cared for, now it just makes me want to grab on to handfuls of my hair and tug on it until my eyes water from the pain. I want to scream even louder, curse even harder, and stomp my foot like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. I don’t do any of this and I don’t say anything I want to say. I take a deep breath and a step back away from him, forcing his hand to drop from my shoulder.
“My mother just basically fired me and you’re honestly asking me what’s wrong?”
Landry lets out a big suffering sigh and I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes.
“She didn’t fire you. She’s giving you a little break to get your head on straight. We’ve all noticed how stressed you’ve been lately. This campaign is very important to me, you know that, Shelby. Your mother has worked hard to help me get here and she just wants to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Giving you some time off so you’ll be raring and ready to go to be back on my arm for the media when I get home in three weeks,” he informs me with a smile.
Bullshit, I want to scream right in his face. My mother’s e-mail this morning had nothing to do with making sure I was okay or looking out for my well-being. It was all about making sure I took this time to remember what’s at stake and make sure I made it loud and clear to Eli that he needs to stay far away from me. Knowing Landry would be out of town and I wouldn’t have to continue lying to him about what’s going on with me meant in her mind that I would have plenty of free time to get my life sorted and back on track.
“I still have a few hours before my flight leaves,” he informs me quietly, moving back into my personal space and pressing his hands on either side of my face. “Meredith is gone for the day and I don’t have to worry about her giving me dirty looks or attitude. We have plenty of time to test out the bed in your new room.”
I have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing at his suggestion.
God, I’m such a bitch.
He’s trying so hard to be smooth and seductive and it’s just falling flat. Especially after I woke up this morning covered in sweat, the tail end of a dream about Eli and one of the many times we had sex leaving me feeling needy and wanting to burrow myself deeper under the covers and touch myself until I came. I stand here looking up into Landry’s blue eyes and all I see are bright brown eyes staring back at me. I feel his smooth, soft hands on my face and all I can think of are rough, hard ones against my skin. Why can’t I just let go of the past and look forward to a future with this man? I hate that I can’t just open up my heart to him and give him everything he deserves.
I’ve done nothing but think about Eli since I stormed away from him in the studio. I’ve done nothing but replay that entire interaction, wondering what the hell happened. I let him hold me. I let him comfort me, and I let him have it. I let him have all of my pain and misery and he just stood there and took it…until he didn’t and he fought back. I made a mistake and I tried to fix it. I tried to push him away and I tried to make him believe I’d moved on. I tried to protect him the only way I knew how, but he wasn’t buying it and then he made up some bullshit lie about letters he wrote me and that just fired me up even more.
I stand here looking at Landry, so good and kind, and his eyes shining with love for me. When all I want to be doing is standing in the middle of my studio, fighting with Eli, I know I can’t do this anymore. I know I can’t continue to hurt Landry like this anymore.
“I think we need to take a break,” I blurt out, before I lose my nerve.
Landry laughs, but the smile on his face quickly dies when he sees I’m not joking.
“What are you talking about?” he asks with a disbelieving shake of his head, his hands falling from my face.
“I care about you. I really do, but—”
He lets out a small laugh of annoyance, cutting me off as he takes a step back from me.
“Don’t. Don’t even finish that sentence with, It’s not you, it’s me.”
Thankfully, I hear the front door open and Meredith shouts my name, saving me from saying the exact clichéd statement Landry knew I was about to speak.
Landry tries
to hide his disappointment when he hears Meredith come back from shopping and interrupt us, and I try to hide my excitement that my best friend always seems to have the perfect timing.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Landry asks.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
My stomach churns, knowing I’m hurting a good man, but I have no other choice. I can’t keep doing this to him. I can’t keep stringing him along, giving him hope that someday I’m going to return all of the love he has for me. I truly believed that eventually my feelings for him would grow, but now that Eli’s back, I know that’s never going to happen.
Landry doesn’t say anything else; he just turns and walks away.
The only thing I can feel as I watch him walk through the doorway is relief. I no longer have to pretend like I’m a meek, quiet woman who always does as she’s told. I no longer have to worry about Landry’s feelings while I figure out a way to make Eli take back everything he said and change his mind. As badly as I want him to fight for me and prove to me that he really never fell in love with someone else, as much as I’m dying inside for him to touch me and argue with me, I can’t let that happen. I have to keep him safe, and pushing him away is the only thing I can do to accomplish that.
* * *
I’ve lost track of how many times this week I’ve given in to yet another sleepless night, tossed back my covers, and quietly made my way across our land to the stables. Tonight is no different. At three o’clock in the morning, I’m standing in front of Ariel’s stall, using my fingernails to scratch the white diamond shape in her fur right between her ears on her forehead. I avoided going into the studio to feel sorry for myself and came right down the main hall to my favorite horse, feeding her sugar cubes and muttering to her about how stupid I am.
Her response is a snort and the jerk of her head as she cranes her neck toward the hand I have resting on the gate by her chest, looking for more sugar.