by Rae, Harloe
I almost crash to my knees from the sight of her pain. The shattering of my soul goes unnoticed. “Of course, Millie. I’ll take you right away.”
The following moments are a jumble of thudding beats that ricochet off my ears. My surroundings blur as we get loaded into the car. What kicked off as a stellar day with groundbreaking potential has become a smoldering heap of ruin. Our outcome is bleak.
We’re halfway to her house when she chisels into the aching silence. “You don’t want to be my dad, Ford?”
I sputter over my tied tongue. “What? I never said that, Peep.”
But I’m the last guy, aside from her biological father, who’s fit for the job. Another fissure of my heart cracks.
“I’m just your friend. You don’t want to suddenly become my father.”
The steering wheel creaks under the pressure of my squeezing palms. How the fuck do I handle this? Jesus, I feel like water is rising all around me and drowning is inevitable. “I can’t fill that role, Millie. And you shouldn’t want me to.”
Her forehead scrunches in the rearview mirror. “What do you mean?”
Having tough conversations is never pleasant. For me, this is worse than ripping off my fingernails. Pure fucking torture. The solution is simple, but that doesn’t make following through any easier. I clear the grit from my throat and shoot through the pitch black. “That man, my father, isn’t a good guy. He’s more of a villain. In order to protect you from him, things need to change. I probably won’t see you as often for a little bit. Just to be safe.”
“But I like hanging out with you.” Her whisper clangs into the quiet that’s enveloping us.
“I know, Millie. I really enjoy spending time with you, too. But you deserve to have a better friend than me. Someone who won’t expose you to bad stuff.” I cringe while shoving out the necessary truths. The thought of another man swooping into their lives rubs acid into my festering wounds. Every inch of my body burns, but the agony grounds me. I can’t subject them to a lifetime of this.
“You get it, remember? No one else does.”
“Give other people a chance,” I choke.
“No. I don’t want anyone else to love my mama. You’re supposed to do that.”
I already do. More than I was prepared to recognize. Maybe that’s why this hurts so fucking much. The weight is crushing, stealing any chance of taking a decent breath. There’s no response to give that won’t be a lie. I choose to be a coward and let the silence absorb any opportunity for confession. Millie’s sniffles increase in volume and frequency until I’m suffocating in her sorrow.
Pulling into the driveway should offer some sense of relief, but all I feel is blistering loss. Millie grabs Elsa and scrambles away before I can say goodbye. That’s probably for the best at the rate of this downward spiral.
Sharing a life with Keegan and Millie is a loftier illusion than the wildest pipe dream. I’ve been kidding myself this entire time. In the fantasy world I’ve been living in, we all ride off into the sunset on my cruiser with a sidecar. In the ruthless reality where we actually reside, I have to break two hearts in addition to my own.
That’s the brutal ending to an equally doomed story. How fucking fitting.
Healing Hug #24: Falling apart isn’t as easy when there’s glue holding the pieces together.
Those peaceful moments before disaster strikes are glorious, yet deceiving as hell. It’s almost as if I can smell trouble brewing along with my mint tea in the kettle. The house is calm and quiet enough for me to sprawl out on the couch without disruption. I almost allow my eyes to flutter shut for a quick nap.
Then that shitty catastrophe presents itself.
The front door crashes open with a resounding bang. I leap upright as my pulse bangs into the ceiling, spinning in rapid circles with the fan. Millie races into the house sobbing, and my hackles rise with a deafening rattle. I follow her trail of wails and tears upstairs.
She’s laying face down on her bed, skinny shoulders trembling with sorrow. My scrambling brain is already launching to conclusions. Forget the slowpoke jumping crap. That line of irrational thinking isn’t going to solve problems any faster.
Against all of my impulsive instincts, I tiptoe into the room and sit on her mattress. With a soothing stroke along her back, I hum the opening lines of her favorite lullaby. She hiccups into her pillow, but the wailing quiets ever so slightly.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” The pounding in my temple throbs harder with each cry she releases.
“Ford d-doesn’t wanna b-be our f-friend anymore.” Between being muffled and garbled, her words are tough to comprehend. I get the gist.
It takes all of my frazzling control to remain parked in place. What I really want to be doing is storming outside to give that guy a verbal and possibly physical smackdown. My daughter has her dramatic moments, but going to this extreme over a potential misunderstanding is unheard of. But there’s always a very far off chance she’s changing her stripes. “Why do you think that, sweetie?”
“He told me so.” Millie coughs until I fear she’s going to hack up a lung.
I shush her, singing a bit more. The tune is meant to calm her, but I’m also in serious need of a pause button. That rat bastard is messing with the wrong mama bear. “Well, that doesn’t sound very nice. Maybe he needs a timeout. What do you think?”
She turns onto her side to face me. Her bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes threaten to split my heart in two. “He’s being a meanie.”
“Sure seems like it, Mills. Where’s Ford now?”
She wipes a line of gooey snot on her arm. I picture her doing that to Crawford’s face instead. “Waiting by his car. I think he wants to talk with you.”
He can bet his sorry ass I have a few choice words for him as well. I plaster a wide smile onto my face entirely for Millie’s benefit. “Will you be all right if I go speak to him? I’ll make sure to hurry.”
She nods, inhaling a choppy breath. “He’s not in a good mood, Mama. But don’t be scared.”
A fiery thwack of heat singes my chest. “Did he yell at you?”
Millie shakes her head in vehement fashion. “No, but his daddy isn’t very nice.”
I store that tidbit of information into the recesses of my hazy mind. “Okay, baby girl. Be right back.”
“Love you, Mama.”
I swipe a lock of blonde hair off her sticky forehead, pressing a soft kiss in the balmy center. “I love you very much, Mills.” And it’s high time I defend her honor.
My battle ax sharpens as I descend the steps, locking the offender in my sights. Crawford leans against the passenger side of his ridiculously responsible vehicle choice. I bet he could learn a thing or two from that standard sedan. When he notices me approaching, his broad shoulders tense. His gaze is guarded, solid walls slamming down, as if I’m the one stomping into enemy territory. My sandals slap against the pavement as I erase the remaining distance between us.
I pin him with an unyielding stare, regardless of the maracas shaking in my chest. “Care to tell me why Millie is sobbing uncontrollably after spending less than an hour with you?”
“Father dearest dropped in for an unannounced visit.” His vacant tone gives me chills. From a single flat statement, it’s obvious this isn’t the Crawford I’ve grown to care for. I blink at him, silently pleading for more. He doesn’t give me another utterance. In fact, his stare veers over my shoulder with blank disinterest. This shell of a man reminds me of the guy I met alongside the road that fateful day.
“And what happened?” I make a rolling motion with my hand to prod him along.
Crawford exhales in that bored sort of way, as if I’m wasting his time. “Listen, Keegan. This was fun and all, but I’m not a family man. Who are we kidding, right?”
I reel back, nearly stumbling on air from the blow of his words. “Excuse me?”
His hazel eyes flick to mine before skittering away again. “I can’t pretend this situation is a good fit for me
anymore.”
This situation? He’s referring to Millie and me as if we’re a problem to be solved. Something to be tossed away when no longer convenient. I point a finger at him, silently scolding the digit for trembling. “This is your fault. You did this. I was perfectly fine leaving things casual. Then you started spouting off lines about trust and wanting more. How about all that stuff you said on the way to Fort Collins? Was that bullshit?”
A muscle tics in his jaw. “Get your finger outta my face, Kee.”
“Are you gonna make me? Does this”—I stab that finger into his chest—“upset you enough to have a genuine reaction?”
His nostrils flare and I can almost witness him prowling to the surface of this phony facade he’s hiding behind. “What do you want from me?”
“The truth would be a great start.”
“I already told you what’s most important.”
“You’re ending things. Just like that.” I snap my fingers so hard the knuckles ache.
Crawford’s expression morphs into a mask of smug cockiness. “There’s nothing to end, Keegan. We didn’t slap on a label to begin with.”
Is he joking with this shit? I comb through my hair, yanking on the ends. “There’s more to the story. Why now? Spit it out.”
“Did Millie tell you I made her cry?” His voice sounds far away, mutters through a wind tunnel.
I falter at his sudden change in direction. “No, but she called you a meanie.”
Crawford snorts. “That’s almost cute, and the least I deserve. She’s terrified, and it’s my fault. It was stupid to let me take her out by myself. It was even worse to believe I could change.”
I reignite my glare. “Lay off the attitude pedal, Mister Nice Guy. I trust you with her. She wouldn’t have gone with you if that wasn’t the case.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve incinerated that bridge. It was bound to happen eventually.”
“Quit being vague. What did your dad do?” I cross my arms so tight the skin pulls.
“Just spewed some hateful shit, like always. Millie took it really hard. I should’ve done more to stop him.”
“I’m sure he hurt her feelings. That’s unfortunate, but it’s bound to happen. Millie will get over that easily enough because he holds no significance. You, on the other hand, mean a helluva lot to that little girl. If you walk away and leave her, she won’t forget that.” I hate that my voice rises in pitch, nearly crumbling over the last words.
Crawford scrubs the back of his neck. “She will eventually.”
“Don’t you do this to her. You promised.” My vision blurs, but I blink the moisture away before he can see the evidence.
“I shouldn’t have.”
“How can you blow off her feelings so carelessly? She won’t get over this, Ford.” A ball rises in my throat, but fuck that. I’m not crying in front of this jackass.
He shrugs, rocking on his heels. “Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t. We all go through tough lessons.”
I toss my hands up in the air. “Fuck that. She’s a little girl. Millie has at least a decade to enjoy before getting her heart shredded.”
“As you’ve previously mentioned.”
“Stop pretending Millie doesn’t matter.”
Crawford’s flinch is small, but it’s visible. “Not sure what you’re expecting me to do about her feelings.”
“Fix this! Go up there and talk to her.” I flail a wild arm toward the house.
His cold indifference slips back into place. “Nah, it’s better to have a clean break. You’ll move on. She’ll bond with your next boyfriend. I’ll return to my isolated existence.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“Yes.”
I stab him in his freakishly firm pec, twice for good measure. “What’s your problem?”
“This conversation is going nowhere,” he drawls.
“No one is forcing you to stay.”
“Are we done arguing?” If I didn’t know better, a hint of a smile twitches the corner of his lips.
“Does it matter either way?”
Crawford rolls his eyes skyward. “Of course. I’m not that insensitive.”
I’m getting dizzy from his emotional whiplash. “What a pile of garbage. If you gave half a shit, you’d stick around and fight for us.”
He barks out a laugh sharp enough to cut iron. “You got it wrong, babe. It’s because I care that I’m letting you go.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you. I’d prefer it if you drop the noble act.”
“Ah, but you wanted to believe I was decent. Guess we’re all getting life lessons today. My father made a good point, tough as that is for me to admit. I’m meant to be alone.”
A dull pang vibrates behind my ribs, making it difficult to breathe. “How can you think that after everything we’ve been through? Move forward, Ford. Don’t go in reverse.”
“Nah, I’ve always been more of a backroads kinda guy.”
“Because of what your father did? You shouldn’t let him win.”
“This has nothing to do with him other than the harsh reminder. I make my own decisions.”
“So, give me the truth. What’s the real reason you’re ditching out?” I grind my molars, begging him to wake up from his nightmarish funk.
“Because this,” he motions between us, “isn’t what I want long term.”
A red fog filters into my vision. I feel a twinge in my belly, the snap that sets off a chain reaction. He’s done with us, and I’m only spinning my wheels trying to make sense of stupid. “Right, okay. I’m just good for a quick fuck. That should’ve been obvious all along. But that little girl in there deserves better. Even from a piece of shit like you.”
His eyes flash, more green than brown, and he lunges toward me. I’m boxed in between him and the piece of reliable metal he bought with Millie in mind. “Once more, in case you weren’t listening. You’re better off without me. That’ll sink into your thick skull soon enough. Until then, comfort your daughter and forget about cursing me.”
“Who the fuck do you—”
He slams his lips over mine, effectively cutting off my rant. The kiss isn’t a gentle show of affection. It’s a brand, possessive and meant to leave a mark. We bite and hiss and lash. Everything we can’t say gets poured into the balloon of pressure expanding between us. Soon we’ll implode and be left with nothing but a fuzzy memory. Crawford hauls me closer, his grip on my hip punishing. This feels far too familiar, yet I can’t pull away.
I sizzle against him, a live wire sparking in a storm. His palm spans over the curves of my ass and presses me against his arousal. The move is fueled by testosterone and some bogus sense of claiming, but I’m warped just enough to let it go. Any point of contact we share is searing hot and frying me on the spot. I’m burning with a lethal fever after mere seconds.
Crawford wrenches his mouth away with a snarl. I seethe at him and smirk at the trickle of blood from his bottom lip. Serves him right for being a jackass. He wipes at the superficial wound.
I hide the tears streaking my cheeks by turning away. This jerk doesn’t deserve my pain. “Stay away from us, Ford.”
His chuckle is darker than the midnight sky. “If I recall correctly, you sought me out after our last fight.”
“Well, I won’t be making that mistake again. Fool me twice and I’m the idiot. Fingers crossed we never see you again.” I hold up my hand in a mock wave.
When I glance over my shoulder, his smirk is hollow. “For your sake, I hope history doesn’t repeat itself. You can only cut our ties so many times before this looks desperate.”
“I’m not the one clinging to the past and allowing my fears to dictate my future.”
He holds up his arms, the sign of surrender as worthless as him. “And on that note, take care of yourself. Tell Millie I say goodbye.”
“Tell her yourself, Crawford.” My laugh is frail enough for the wind to sweep the sound away. “A real man faces his own demons.”
Healing Hug #25: There is no form of comfort strong enough to fix a fool.
The post-Keegan version of myself is by far the worst. I’m almost a week in, and my grasp on normalcy is skewed as fuck. Considering I’ve spent the majority of my years in solitude, returning to the grind should’ve been a cinch. I can attest to the opposite being true. My routine is out of whack and nothing makes sense. There’s an oozing gash across my heart that will never heal.
So, yeah. That’s the latest on me.
It’s safe to confirm that adjusting to life without them hasn’t been successful. By this point, even the oil-splatter writing on the chipping wall is legible. I’m utterly screwed.
Gasoline and dust clog my lungs, along with the desperation hanging heavy in the air. I imagine inhaling pineapples and ocean kisses and tropical paradise. This is tribulation of the most ruthless, self-destructive variety. Torturing myself with the memory of her scent is another cruel punishment. I’m on a narrow, icy slope without a pickaxe.
The shop is silent, yet I picture Millie racing around with Elsa and Patch. Her peal of giggling laughter wages a war on my echoing ears. Because in reality, I’m alone. A glance at my phone reveals no calls or texts. The damn device mocks me with silence. Nothing speaks to me, not even the wind. The sun doesn’t shine on my piece of property. Those blinding rays are reserved for those who appreciate the warm comfort. Even Patch is ignoring me.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that Keegan and Millie are irreplaceable. Those two own my battered, black heart. Because of them, I had a future to strive for. More than that, I wanted to be ambitious and aim higher. That’s all shot to shit now. Bold hues of vitality left with their vibrant influences. Now that they’re gone, my surroundings have returned to stained concrete, gray and ugly.
Keegan’s parting words are haunting me. I’m a coward for running away, especially for leaving Millie without saying goodbye, but my plans were set with them in mind. No matter what she thinks, I care about them. That’s why I’m choosing to suffer, sentencing myself to an existence of strictly surviving. I scoff at my internal drama.