He broke away and managed to say, “No…”
“No,” I disagreed sharply, my own breath so short that I was dizzy. “Case, please…”
“I have to go,” he said, hardly able to speak the words, I could tell, and yet he was choosing to do this to me.
“No you do not,” I hissed, gripping him.
His eyes blazed into mine. He repeated, “I have to go.”
Fury burned a path through me, so hot that my vision wavered.
“Then go,” I raged at him, slamming out of his truck. I yelled at him again, “Just fucking go!”
He drove away without fishtailing gravel this time, but the second his taillights began to disappear down the road I grabbed Robbie’s car keys from the pocket of my shorts, terrified. I caught these in a shaking hand, disregarding what would surely be Robbie’s wrath, ran to his car and started it with a vengeance.
I followed Case’s truck straight out to his place, the sleek little car purring beneath me, determined to finish this once and for all, one way or the other. I was shaking with rage and need for him, blinded by these emotions. He had barely parked when I pulled in next to his truck, hardly remembering to put it into park before bursting out of the BMW and accosting him in his yard.
“How dare you drive away from me like that!” I screamed at him.
“I can’t bear this!” he yelled at me again, truly furious, as visibly angry as I felt. Mutt and Tiny were jumping all around our legs, though they began barking at this unexpected sound of Case in a rage. He brought his hands to his face.
“Why? Answer me!” I shouted right back. “Goddammit, look at me!”
Case dropped his hands, pinned me with his eyes and said in a low, deadly voice, “All I fucking do is look at you. I’m tortured every second of every fucking day.”
He stormed past me and slammed into his trailer, clicking on the kitchen light, me on his heels. In the narrow space of the kitchen, I grabbed his t-shirt and tugged fiercely.
“Stop it!” he raged, spinning to face me so quickly that I made an inadvertent sound of fear. But I would never fear him. I only feared the untamed expression on his face. He yelled, “You can’t be here! I can’t fucking bear it! It’s tearing me up inside! Don’t you know how long I’ve loved you? Jesus fucking Christ! I’ve fucking loved you since I first saw your picture seven years ago!”
“You didn’t even know me then!” I screamed at him, his words pummeling me with both abounding joy and helpless agony. I didn’t add that I wanted him to know me better than anyone else in his life. That I wanted the same from him, in return.
“You think I don’t know that?! It’s insane, it’s more fucked up than anything I’ve ever known!” he yelled back, fire and heat clashing between us in red-orange waves. “I didn’t ask to feel this way. Jesus Christ, it’s like I’m tormented, fucking haunted! When you’re not around, I can’t get you out of my mind. When you’re in front of me it’s even worse. I can hardly breathe because I want you so much.”
His deep voice broke a little on the last few words even as he continued glaring at me. I gulped a little, wanting him so very much that I felt electric, my nerves crackling. But there was something far more sobering thrumming in my body, in the vicinity of my heart. Something I was far too terrified to fully acknowledge and so I glared right back.
“Don’t worry,” he said quietly, acid in his tone now. “I won’t mention it again.”
“Goddammit,” I said, flailing, desperate to be in his arms but unable to let myself. I recognized that I would not be able to turn back from that road, should I choose to head down its length.
But as I stared up at him, the choice was out of my hands.
We were unable to take our eyes from each other. My heart was furious in my chest, demanding acknowledgment. He went on, in a controlled rage, “I tell myself every time that it’s the last time. The last time I’ll try to see you, to be near you. Do you know what it’s been like for me with you here? I feel like I’m on the fucking rack. Just let me go.”
Oh God, I don’t want to let you go. Oh Case, oh God, I don’t want to let you go and I won’t tell you because it would only hurt you. I can’t stay here. I don’t belong here…
“Just let me go,” he repeated, his tone an inch from total defeat. His eyes were dark with anger and need and desire, all swirled together, and his gaze dropped to my lips, my breasts, my hips, back to my eyes and then he buried his face in both hands, clearly in agony.
Agony clawed at me too. Unable to stop myself, I closed the meager distance between us and put my hands around his elbows. He jerked as though I’d plunged a knife into his side, removing his hands from his eyes. His auburn eyes that flared with rage as I curled my fingers around him, refusing to let go of his arms. He was hard and strong, so warm beneath my palms and the same liquid desire rippled over me, more insistent than ever.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice low and dead-serious.
I tightened my grip.
“I fucking mean it,” he said. “I should never have kissed you…oh God…”
“Kiss me now,” I begged him, every pulse point beneath my skin throbbing.
He broke free and stepped back, shoulders squaring. The fury chiseled on his face struck me straight through the center. He was so good-looking he was beautiful, even in this sort of passionate rage.
“No,” he said, low.
“Please,” I whispered. Oh God, don’t turn me away again. I’ll die.
“Go,” he said then, hardly more than a whisper, his eyes flashing fire so hot that I was very nearly incinerated just looking back at him.
I spun away and shoved out the door into the humid summer night, crushed beneath the weight of regret. I stormed over the stone path leading to his trailer, seeing nothing but the red of desire, and fury, passion, and very likely insanity. I heard the screen crash open behind me, indicating that Case had decided to come after me, and so then I ran, racing into the night. I heard him right on my heels just as his arms went around me from behind and we stumbled forward, almost going down.
“Let me go!” I gasped out, breathless, struggling furiously against his hold.
“Wait,” he said back, just as out of breath.
I twisted and intended to shove him away, but instead I grabbed his head to pull his mouth to mine. He made a harsh sound in his throat and kissed me just like I needed. I opened my lips to take his tongue into my mouth, craving the taste of him, my hands clutching him frantically. We went to our knees, Case gripping my jaws in both hands, tilting me into his heated kisses, our heads slanting one way and the other.
Fiercely I yanked him over me, tumbling onto the ground, spreading my legs around his hips as we kissed as though the world would promptly explode before morning’s light and this moment was all we would ever be allowed. I slid my hands at once beneath his shirt, where he was so strong and warm, so solid under my palms. I moaned and went for his jeans.
“Case, oh God, oh God, don’t stop,” I begged as he lifted his mouth just a fraction, breath pelting my cheek, to stare into my eyes with all of the wonder and insanity of what was happening here in his darkened yard. My own breath was coming in gasps, my heart beating so fast it was tripping over itself, roaring in my head. His heart matched this pace and then some, pressed tightly to my breasts.
“Tell me…you want me,” he rasped out, winding his fingers into my loose hair, clutching me almost painfully hard. But it was exactly what I wanted, down to my bones, exactly what I needed.
“I couldn’t want you more,” I moaned, dizzy with it, tightening my thighs around his hips, feeling the rigid hardness beneath his jeans. He caught my wrists from where I had curled my fingers around his belt buckle and pinned them forcefully to the ground, just beside my cheeks on either side of my head. I lifted against him, feverish, and he suckled my bottom lip in his mouth, running his tongue over me, the heat of this flaming straight between my legs. I couldn’t handle another moment of him not touch
ing me.
“Good,” he whispered cruelly, rolling from me, lying flat on his own back and covering his face, knees bent at right angles. Cold and desolate without him atop me, I went right after him, stunned, again feeling as though he had struck me with his fists.
“Look at me!” I shouted at him, shoving at his hands so that he would. I was so aroused that the violent red haze had descended again, even as angry tears spurted in my eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing this to you?” he repeated, fiercely, catching my wrists again. “You don’t have any idea.”
“That hurts,” I choked out, struggling to free myself from his grasp, tear-streaked and miserable, and in love with him. God help me, so in love with him that I couldn’t even imagine another day without him in it.
“Then you finally understand,” he said, low and harsh, hauling me back over his chest. I fell over him, greedy for his every touch, my hair getting tangled between us as he rolled me to the side and claimed my mouth, sliding his right hand over my belly and over the top of my jean shorts. The sounds coming from my throat were purely mindless with need. He kissed me, stroking until I could no longer sense time and place, my hands fisted around his t-shirt; I thought he might try to escape if I loosed my hold.
“I need you, oh God, I need you,” I told him as he freed my mouth to kiss my neck, and at my words he went rigid, ceasing all motion. He lifted his head and, frantic that he would push me away, I clung even more tightly.
His eyes were flames, intent upon burning me alive, and he whispered, “You don’t mean that how I want you to mean it, and I can’t bear it.”
“Case!” I gasped, but was not strong enough to stop him from extracting himself from my grip. I scrambled after him, as though we were competitors in a wrestling match, catching him around the waist as he got to his knees, knocking us both off balance. We grappled, falling again to the earth, me over his chest this time. I straddled him at once, pinning him as well I could with my legs, bracing myself on his shoulders. Furious, pulsating with heated energy, I yelled as best I could manage through my heaving breath, “Would you…listen to me? I’m not fucking with you!”
He stared up at me, cast in demonically-red light, his chest rising and falling with his own harsh breath. I could feel the way his heart was throbbing; I could see the pulse beating at the base of his throat. But before I could speak he said hoarsely, “Right now I don’t care how I’ll feel tomorrow.” The tone in his voice killed me. “I don’t care anymore. When you leave, I want to have at least one memory to get me through the rest of my life.”
I took these words like blows from someone with a hammer in hand.
Oh God…
When you leave…
You can’t stay here, Tish. You’re not good enough for him. You know it’s true…
My thoughts were raging, swift and horrible.
If you tell him you love him it will only force you to make a choice you can’t make…
I can’t bear it, I can’t bear it either…
Tears came gushing from my eyes then and I rolled away this time, utterly defeated, hollowed out. I felt as though I should take myself somewhere and use a whip to peel the flesh from my own back. And even that would not hurt as much as what I had done to him, what I would have to do to myself to stop this from going any further. I had pushed it when he’d told me to go, to let him go…
He wrapped around me from behind, catching me to his chest and he was so strong, cradling me this time, as I pressed both fists to my mouth to keep sobs from ripping up my chest.
“Oh God, don’t cry,” he said into my hair.
I hated myself more in that moment than I had ever hated anything or anyone in my life. I wrenched free of him and stumbled to my feet, blinded by tears, choking on sobs.
“Tish,” he said, and his voice was that of someone drowning, unable to surface for the next breath, just as I felt right now. “Oh God, don’t go…please, don’t go.”
I didn’t dare look back as I jogged to my car, leaving him sitting on the ground.
And this time he didn’t follow.
Chapter Eighteen
Later, I didn’t remember driving home after leaving Case’s. Sometime late the next morning Robbie was knocking, calling through the door like a worried little brother. When I didn’t respond he texted me, Can I at least have my keys?
Go away, I managed to text back. Go the fuck away.
I wanted to die. I couldn’t even cry I was so dead inside. When Robbie refused to leave, I shoved his keys beneath the door and then fell straight back into my bed.
Is this what you want? Is this what’s right?
Turnbull and Hinckley is going to call with a job offer any moment.
It’s what you want.
You can’t stay here. You don’t belong here…
I didn’t move until sometime towards early evening, unable to look at my face in the mirror, because if I did I would have to acknowledge that I was leaving behind the man I was in love with.
Oh God, I love him…
But I can’t stay here…
I can’t…
Clark called me, which I ignored. I thought about calling my sister, but I couldn’t bear to talk to Camille right now. I couldn’t bear to do anything but drive back to Case’s house and tell him the truth. But that would only hurt both of us more than anything.
Would he come back to Chicago with me?
Could I even ask that of him?
Oh God, I want to die. I want simply to die.
Case, Case, Case…
I dreamed of Case that night and the next, terrible dreams in which I was tied up, wrists and ankles, a prisoner, sobbing brokenly for him. Somehow I knew he was in terrible danger. Mortal danger. I worked at the rope bindings until I was slick with my own blood. And then, into this dreamscape, Derrick Yancy suddenly emerged. Although he didn’t look exactly like the man I knew in this life, it was undoubtedly him. He came near where I was tied and regarded me with a grimace, a horrible smirking smile. He put his hand under my chin, just lightly, and whispered, Tell me, Patricia, what does a man do with an unfaithful wife?
When I stubbornly didn’t answer, he struck me in the face so hard that sparks exploded across my vision, blood pouring wetly over my mouth and chin.
And then I would wake to morning light with a shuddering gasp, scarcely making it to the toilet before I vomited.
***
I was silent at work on Monday. I told Al, “I don’t want to talk about it,” and wisely he didn’t press. Thank God that Mary was out sick. I worked like a demon, shutting out everything but legal matters. Al let me take on a couple of minor disputes, both in the realm of family law, and I spent most of the afternoon at the courthouse, refusing to think about a thing other than the petitions in my hands. Hank Ryan was there, and greeted me warmly; it was all I could do to return his smile. When I was through with work it was still early afternoon and I considered going down to Records and looking up more information about the Yancys and the Spicers, but the thought of seeing Case’s name on old documents, of perhaps running across a mention of Cole Spicer, was more painful than I could even consider.
You made your bed, I reminded myself grimly. Now you just have to get through these next few weeks and then go home. I had driven to the courthouse, even though it would have been much easier to walk, but I was too terrified of running into Case. As I drove back through the late afternoon sunshine, studying the familiar streets of Jalesville, I understood that I had to leave sooner than that. I had to go back to Chicago, now. This week. Maybe even tomorrow.
You coward, I told myself, viciously, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. You can’t back out now. Al is counting on you for at least a few more weeks.
I can’t bear it, I thought, echoing Case’s words; my heart was hollowed out, drained of everything.
How can this be right?
Tish, answer me. How can this be right?
&nbs
p; Immediately after work I drove home and drew the blinds, curled onto my couch. Jerry Woodrow, the sheriff, had stopped in to the law office to tell me that there had been no leads on the break-in of my apartment. I didn’t tell him that I already knew exactly who had broken into my place, and that right now I didn’t care about anything but getting through the next moment. My phone, forlorn on the kitchen table, was lit up like a radio tower with messages, many of which were from Camille, but I couldn’t bear to talk to her either.
It was after ten that night when someone knocked on my door. I started awake, falling off the couch, and then my heart sprang to wild, frantic life, thinking it might be Case. I wanted to see him, just to see him. Someone knocked again and then I heard Clark say, “Tish, honey, it’s just me. You wouldn’t answer your phone and I was getting worried.”
I went to the door and tipped my forehead against it. I had to clear my throat two times before I managed to say, “Clark, I’m so sorry.”
“Can I come in?” he asked. “Will you talk to me?”
“I can’t,” I said, aching, bled out. “I just can’t right now.”
“None of us want you to go,” Clark said. “Al called me today, said he’s worried sick about you. Thinks you’re going to leave early for Chicago. He doesn’t want that either.”
“Clark,” I said, though I was unable to open the door. I couldn’t bear to see how disappointed he was in me. I asked him, my throat aching, “Is he all right?”
There was a silence that burned right through the door. Clark said at last, “I’m not going to lie and tell you that he is. I can’t do that.”
I sank to my knees, my head still against the door. Tears began clawing the inside of my skull, but it was nothing less than I deserved. Clark said, “This next Friday is Garth and Becky’s anniversary, hon. We’re having a party at The Spoke. We’d all be much obliged if you’d come.”
There was no way in hell I could show my face. But I whispered, “Thanks, Clark. Thank you for everything.”
I sensed his reluctance to go. He finally said, “I think you should stay, Tish. Please know that.”
The First Law of Love Page 32