This Wicked Rush

by Jessie Evans

  “I can’t,” I whisper, pressing my lips together. “I’m sorry, Isaac, I don’t… I don’t love you that way.”

  Isaac’s brow furrows, but the longing doesn’t leave his expression. “Yeah, not now, I know that. But…take some time. Think about all we’ve been through, all we mean to each other. There’s more to what we have than friendship, and I know there have been times when you’ve felt it, too.”

  I force myself to meet his eyes, knowing he won’t believe me unless he sees the truth in my face. “No, I haven’t. I’m in love with Gabe, and I don’t want to be with anyone else. Not now. Maybe…not ever.”

  “Never is a long time.” Isaac’s eyes begin to shine. “He’s going to leave you, Caitlin. He’s not the kind of guy who sticks around.”

  “I know that,” I say. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the way I feel.” I pull in a breath, my ribs aching as they expand. “I’m sorry, Isaac. I really am.”

  He sniffs, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth before he smiles. “Yeah, well, I hope I’m wrong. I hope he doesn’t break your heart. But if he does… I can’t be the shoulder you cry on anymore.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, hating the misery that twists Isaac’s face as he backs toward the door.

  “Great, well…” He grabs his keys from one of the wall hooks. “Good luck with everything. I’ll see you when I see you.”

  I open my mouth to say something to make this better, but I can’t think of a damned thing. I watch him go, and then stand in the middle of the living room alone for a good five minutes. I stand and watch the twisted blue shadows flickering in the corners of the ceiling, feeling like the world has turned upside down.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gabe

  Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin…No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head. -Shakespeare

  Sunday morning dawns with numbness in my right arm.

  I think I must have slept on it wrong, but then I roll over and the horizon line outside the window goes crooked, shifting back and forth the way it did last night when I was trying to run from the storage facility. I close my eyes and open them, close and open, but the world refuses to steady and soon my stomach is pitching right along with the field of hay behind Darby Hill.

  I close my eyes and force myself to go back to sleep, not wanting to admit this is what I think it is—the close of the game, the brick wall at the end of the alley, too high to climb.

  I wake up later—not sure how much later, but the light in the room is brighter—and the world is steady again, but my arm is even more numb than it was before. I clench my fist and release it, again and again. I watch my hand move sluggishly back and forth, but I can’t grip my blanket between my fingers, and soon the headache that felt like it was going to crack my skull open on the way back from Caitlin’s house last night, returns.

  I lie in bed for a long time, head throbbing like a thumb with a splinter shoved beneath the nail, knowing I should get up and ask my mother or father to help me take a pain pill. But I dread the scene I’ll cause when I confess I can’t open the bottle myself. It will all be over, then. There will be no more hiding from it, even if the numbness goes away.

  Please go away. Please. I need a little more time.

  No, I need a lot more time. I need a lifetime. I need a future to promise her, but what you need, and what you get, are rarely the same thing. This is what I have—a numb arm, a pounding head, and unfinished business I need to get out of bed and take care of before it’s too late.

  I shove my sheet and blanket to the end of the bed and lie beneath the swirling ceiling fan in nothing but my boxer briefs, hoping the cool air will help banish the pounding sensation in my head. It works…a little, and in a few minutes I feel good enough to sit up and reach for my phone.

  I text Caitlin, punching in my message with my left thumb, trying not to think about what happens if my left arm starts playing the same kind of games as my right. Less than a minute later, she texts me back, saying she can’t get away this afternoon, but I’m welcome to come over to her house early.

  Be there as soon as I can, I text back. I want us to find someplace private to talk. Not in front of the kids.

  Okay. The dots flicker on my phone, indicating she’s typing something lengthy, but when the rest of the message comes through it’s simply: Everything okay?

  No, it’s not okay. I’ve promised things I had no business promising. And now I’ll have to pay the price, and so will Caitlin. But I can’t tell her that in a text, so I simply punch in—

  I’ll explain when I get there.

  —and turn off my phone.

  I force myself out of bed and shuffle into the bathroom where I take a shower, feeling only half in my body as I make accommodations for my numb arm without thinking too much about what I’m doing. I shave and dress, refusing to look my reflection in the eye. If I look myself in the eye there will be no more hiding. I will slip out of this fuzzy state of shock, and slip into a very different emotional state. One that won’t be conducive to ending things with the only girl I’ve ever loved, and that won’t be any good for anyone.

  It’s time to end it—quickly, cleanly—to cut myself off from Caitlin like a rotten limb before I can further infect her life.

  I tell my parents I’m going for a drive and will be back before dinner, leaving the sitting room without answering my mother’s inquiry as to how I’m feeling. That’s another conversation better left until after I’ve finished my business at the Cooney house; I doubt my parents would be keen on me driving without feeling in one arm.

  I have to stop twice on the way across town. Once, because the highway starts shifting on its axis, and I have to pull over until the world steadies; once a few blocks from Caitlin’s house, to firm up what I’m going to say. I thought I’d have more time, but now we’re suddenly at the finish line and I haven’t had a chance to prepare.

  All I know is that I have to make her hate me. If we’d made it to the end of the summer, we might have been able to part as friends, but now alienating her is the only option. I don’t want her coming after me, searching for an explanation as to why I’ve suddenly gone back on our bargain. She knows me too well, and knows keeping my promises is important to me. She would put her clever, stubborn head to work figuring out what I’m hiding and it wouldn’t be difficult for her to find out.

  Hating me is the only thing that will keep her out of my business, and away from Darby Hill, where my mother is waiting to spill all of my secrets. My father can be trusted to keep his mouth shut—he likes Caitlin, and will see that what I’ve done is for the best—so there shouldn’t be any problem with him continuing to represent her in her suit against her father.

  She’ll get custody of the kids, have enough money to go back to school, and be able to truly move on with her life. She’ll be able to keep the good things from our time together, without suffering the fallout. She might be upset for a while—sometimes, I think she cares for me more than she lets on—but she’ll get over a broken heart. She’s only twenty years old. She has her entire life ahead of her, a life she’ll spend loving someone much better for her than me.

  The thought sends a wave a pain flashing through my body that has nothing to do with the nightmare in my head.

  I park in front of her house and shut off the engine, taking a moment to brace myself.

  Before I can get out of the car, the front door slams open and Sean flies out, followed closely by Emmie, wearing the rainbow tutu Caitlin and I bought her at the French Heritage festival last weekend. She is smiling that smile that looks so much like Caitlin’s, looking so sweet and innocent and obviously happy to see me that it flays at my insides.

  My heart squeezes and my chest is suddenly so tight I can barely draw a breath. It’s not just Caitlin I love. I love that little girl. I love the way she looks at me like I’m something completely good, a hero.

  But I’m no hero. I’m a monster. I
’m as bad as the people in Dad’s files, lying to myself and everyone around me. Trying to make it okay to take what I want without stopping to think of the people I’m destroying along the way.

  The kids won’t be destroyed. They’re young. Emmie will forget you in a week, the boys in two or three. It’s not too late for a clean break.

  My ribs loosen. I draw a deep breath, force a smile, and exit the car. I ruffle Sean’s hair as I pass him by, and stop long enough to lean down, pressing a soft kiss to Emmie’s forehead, but I don’t stop to ask about their day, or where they want to go for a drive after dinner the way I usually do.

  “We’ll be in the backyard,” Sean calls out after me, a plaintive note in his voice that makes me think he realizes something’s wrong. “Come out after you talk to Caitlin.”

  “We’ll see,” I say noncommittally, determined not to lie to the Cooney kids any more than I have already. I trudge up the concrete steps to the house, letting myself in without bothering to knock. I’m allowed to do that now; I’m practically part of the family.

  The thought makes me wince as I shut the door behind me.

  “Be down in just a second!” Caitlin calls from upstairs.

  Her voice is a knife slipped between my ribs. I would rather die than do what I came here to do. I don’t want to hurt her. I want to give her the world, fight for her dreams, promise her forever. I want to spend my life making her happy, making her laugh, making her come—crying out my name in that voice that is my favorite voice because it is hers.

  God, I love her, so fucking much, but I’m not much better than a ghost.

  But she’s still alive—even more alive than the day I met her—and her potential is limitless. I believe in her, more than I’ve ever believed in anyone, and that’s why I will do this. Because to do anything else would hurt more than the verbal blows I’ll deliver today.

  She pounds down the stairs a split second after my resolve has slipped into place, Danny not far behind her.

  “Sorry, we were fixing the toilet. It broke again and…” Her words trail away as our eyes meet across the living room. Her smile fades and fear flickers in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “We need to talk,” I say, voice flat, emotionless.

  “Danny go outside,” Caitlin says softly, throat working as she swallows.

  “But I was going to play—”

  “Go outside,” Caitlin repeats more firmly. “Please. And keep everyone else outside until I say it’s okay to come back in.”

  Danny hesitates, glancing between me and Caitlin. After a moment, something shifts in his expression and he nods. “Oh…okay.”

  He turns to leave, but before he reaches the kitchen he turns back. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, Caitlin? Watch your back?” he asks, shooting me a narrow look, a look that is full of anger and disbelief and a silent prayer not to do what he knows I’m going to do. What we all know I’m going to do.

  Caitlin shakes her head. “No…but thanks, D.”

  “All right,” Danny says. “Call me if you need me.”

  “Will do,” Caitlin says to him, but she’s looking at me, watching me like a loaded gun.

  I hold her gaze, wanting to make it clear from the beginning that there are no cracks in my resolve. There will be no backing down, no bargaining, no buying time. This is the end. The train stops here and everyone but me is getting off before it jumps the tracks.

  I wait until I hear the back door close behind Danny to say, “I talked to my father this morning about what will happen when you get custody of the kids. It’s forever. You understand that, right?”

  She nods, but doesn’t say a word.

  “You’ll be legally bound to take care of them until Emmie’s eighteen,” I say. “You’ll be signing half your life away.”

  “I know,” she says.

  I sigh. “Listen, I like you, Caitlin, a lot, and lately I’ve been thinking this thing between us could be serious, but I’m not ready to take on a family. I don’t want to sacrifice the best years of my life because your parents and sister can’t be bothered to live up to their responsibilities. I have bigger dreams.”

  Caitlin’s brows draw together, hurt and shock mixing in her eyes. “Yeah, I know that, Gabe. From the beginning, we both agreed this was just for the summer.”

  “It’s becoming more than that, and you know it.” I say, forcing irritation into my tone. “The kids are getting attached; you’re getting attached.”

  “Don’t tell me what I’m feeling,” she snaps.

  “It’s better if we end it now before we get in any deeper.” I take a step toward the door, even though all I want to do is cross the room, pull her into my arms, and kiss her until we both forget everything I’ve said. “Despite what some people think, I’m not a heartless asshole. I don’t want to be responsible for making kids cry when I skip town in August and never come back.”

  “So that’s it?” she asks, voice breaking. “It’s over. Just like that?”

  “I think a clean break is best.” I shrug. “My father is still going to represent you for free, and the money in the joint account in Charleston is yours. I’ll send you something later this week letting you know where the rest of the cash is hidden. Altogether, it should be enough to cover expenses while you get your degree.”

  Caitlin nods and keeps nodding for a long time. She crosses her arms, uncrosses them, drops her gaze to the carpet, and then tilts her head back to stare at the ceiling. She laughs softly, and runs a hand through her hair, but still doesn’t say a word.

  “I really do wish you all the best,” I say, speaking the truth for the first time since I walked in the door.

  Caitlin pulls in a breath that emerges as a sob. “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s the truth. I think you’re a good person, who deserves good things.”

  “No, not that,” she says, voice vibrating with anger as she crosses the room, getting close enough for me to smell her Caitlin smell, breaking my heart a little more as I realize this is the last time I’ll ever breathe her in.

  “I don’t believe the kids are why you’re calling it off,” she continues, pinning me with a wounded look. “I see the way you smile at them. You care about them, and you’re happy when you’re with our family. That’s not fake, I know it’s not.”

  “Caring, and wanting to play daddy, are two very different things.”

  “Bullshit,” she says, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’re happy here; you’re happy with me, and you said you weren’t going back to college, anyway. What other plans can you have that are worth setting everything we have on fire and walking away?”

  “I’m sorry if I led you to believe I was feeling something that I don’t,” I say, my voice stiff.

  She laughs, sending the tears in her eyes gliding down her cheeks. “You do feel something. You love me; I know you do. And I love you.” Her face crumples for a moment before she sucks in a breath, regaining control. “I love you so much it scares me to death, but I’m not running away. I’m not being a coward.”

  “You can’t run.” I cross my arms, fighting the urge to reach for her, to crush her to my chest and tell her love isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for her. “You’re tied to the kids, to this town. You couldn’t run away, even if you wanted to.”

  “I could,” she says in a softer voice. “I could drop the suit, give Chuck the kids, and come with you, wherever you’re going.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I say, searching her face, afraid she might be serious.

  She lifts her chin, and swipes the tears from her cheek with a rough palm. “My mom and sister did it, and somebody always stepped in to pick up the pieces. I could do it, too.”

  “You know there’s no one left to step in,” I whisper, casting a glance toward the backyard, where the kids are playing. “You’re the only person any of them can count on. If you left, you’d destroy them.”

  “So?” Caitlin says. “Maybe I’m tired of be
ing the girl people can count on.”

  I shake my head, a scowl clawing into my face as my skull starts to pound all over again. “You’d break their hearts. Maybe forever. Can you really fucking live with that?”

  Caitlin smiles, a slow, trembling smile that tells me I’ve walked into a trap. “You should see the look on your face. You really look like a guy who doesn’t give a shit about those kids.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and drive a hand through my hair, cussing beneath my breath.

  “You love them,” Caitlin says, hope thick in her voice. “And I love them, and I love you, and I know we can be good together. We could…we could even be family.” Her hands come to my chest, her fingers fisting in my gray tee shirt. It’s the same one I was wearing when I asked her to come play with me, back when I was still dumb enough to believe this thing with Caitlin could remain a casual, summer fling. “Stay with me, Gabe. Don’t run. Stay. Please.”

  I open my eyes. Her face is so close, and I want to kiss her so badly I can taste the sweetness I know I’ll find in her mouth, but I can’t. I can’t kiss her, I can’t keep loving her, I can’t stay here or I’m going to ruin everything.

  If I stay, I’ll carry her upstairs and make love to her. I’ll hold her close after, and confess it all, and she’ll still want me to stay because she is kind and generous and strong, but it will destroy her. I will destroy her, and I can’t have that on my conscience. I have no illusions about going to heaven—I don’t even know if I believe in it anymore—but I want to go out clean, without emotional blood on my hands. I won’t give Caitlin and the kids a front row seat to more pointless suffering. They’ve been through enough. I have to finish this, or I will never forgive myself.

  “Sometimes love isn’t enough,” I say roughly. I cover her fists with my fingers and force her hands away. “I like you, and I love fucking you, but you are not what I want, Caitlin. I don’t want this.”

  “You’re a liar,” she says, but there is doubt in her voice and fresh tears stream down her cheeks.