by Ivy Raine
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her nose stuffed and swollen.
Stash didn’t speak right away, but studied her, instead. “I had no idea,” he finally said. “I wouldn’t have pressed you if I’d known.”
The odd, hollow look in his eyes terrified Marta. It was almost as if he were saying goodbye. As angry as she was with him, he was like a golden rope of sunshine swinging in front of her, keeping her on her toes and reaching for a better place – a place of peace.
“He was my best friend in the whole world.” Marta felt so small and lost when she thought of Kyle. “I never knew life without Kyle. We lived on opposite sides of the street, and since I was an only child and so was he, we naturally gravitated to each other.” Marta couldn’t help but smile when she thought of Kyle. “He was two years older than me, so I was the tag-along until I hit about fourteen and then he started following me. We spent every waking moment together for six summers, and even after that length of time, I never really understood how he felt about me until it was too late.” She swallowed, chasing away another round of tears. “That’s when I vowed I’d never let another man fall in love with me ever again. And,” she said, subconsciously drawing a hand to her hip, “so far it’s worked out pretty well. Most guys don’t want a hefty girl, anyway.”
A quick bolt of anger shot across Stash’s face. “Got news for you, beautiful. It’s not your weight that keeps ‘em away. It’s the ice-cold air that follows you everywhere you go. It scares the hell out of them and completely devastates their confidence. I should know,” he said. “I’ve been frostbitten on more than one occasion.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sure you probably didn’t notice because you’re too busy putting yourself down, but you’ve been losing weight since you started working at Mirelli’s – too much, in my opinion. I don’t like bony chicks.”
Marta slipped her hand down to her hip again and realized Stash was right. How could she have not noticed? As pathetically obvious as it was to everyone else, the dots finally connected for Marta. Maybe she just didn’t want to see the truth. Maybe she was blocking it all out to keep herself safe. Her veil – her protection – was dissolving away with each passing day, revealing her complete and utter nakedness.
“Are you okay to drive?” Stash seemed anxious to get going.
“I’ll be fine.” Numb. That was the only word to describe how she felt right at that moment. “Sorry,” she said with a sheepish glance in Stash’s direction. “I’m just really tired – of everything.”
“Tired I understand.” Stash leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. “I think I’ll get to bed early tonight. That sofa sleeping we did last night was a killer.”
He was right. Marta hadn’t been exhausted like this in a long time.
Quiet wasn’t a word Marta would normally use to describe Stash, but he was just that all the way back to the cottage. Even when Marta tried to steer the conversation, it always ended in a grunt and silence.
“Friends again?” Marta nudged Stash with her elbow as he unlocked the front door.
At first, Marta thought he was going to make his usual joke, but something stirred in his tired eyes and he swooped down for a quick, passionate kiss. “If that’s all you’ll allow me to be I suppose I’ll have to accept it, but don’t expect me to go down without a fight. By the way,” he said, tossing his keys on the lamp stand. “How big is this Bradley character, anyway?”
The juvenile comment caught Marta off guard. She looked for any hint of a smile, and when she saw none, she knew Stash was dead serious.
“Tall and thin, but I think you’ll like him.”
Stash grunted. “I have no desire to make him my best bud, beautiful. Arm’s length is where I want to keep him – preferably with a clenched fist on the other end.”
Marta rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna have to contain yourself. He’s picking me up here Friday evening.” Stash tensed, but he held his tongue. “He’s taking me to a wine tasting festival.”
The awkward silence between them ate away at Marta. She followed Stash into the kitchen and watched as he grabbed a pan from the oven. “So?” she prodded. His purposeful silence was beginning to irritate her.
He sat the pot in the sink and jerked on the water. “So, what? It’s not like I’m your brother or anything. You don’t need my approval, and you wouldn’t get if you did,” he grumbled.
“What was I supposed to say? He’s my boss!”
Stash plunked the pan on the stove and turned on the burner. “Did you ask for a raise?”
Marta shook her head. “That doesn’t even make sense. What does a raise have to do with anything?”
“Are women really that stupid?” Stash put a hand to her forehead. “Anyone in there?”
Slapping his hand away, Marta spun around and crossed her arms. “If your insinuating what I think you are, then you’re a bigger jerk than you appear – and that’s huge!”
A jolt went through her when she felt Stash’s hands come from behind and encircle her waist. “You could’ve gotten one, you know. If the mental image I have of Bradley Mirelli is correct, he would’ve signed over half the restaurant to take you out on a date.”
Marta tried to keep from smiling. She wasn’t done being angry. “I hope you don’t lay down too much money betting on that little tidbit, because you’d lose your shirt.”
She felt Stash’s hot, jealous breath on her neck. “So, he’s a pretty boy, is he?”
Her initial reaction was to save Stash’s feelings and deny it, but that would be a big, fat lie. “He’s … nice,” she said, sounding a little too nonchalant.
“Nice. Is that the female equivalent of hot babe?”
“He’s not ugly, if that’s what you’re getting at.” She pulled away and turned the knob on the stove to a higher setting. “You want this water boiling?”
Stash grabbed a bag of pasta from the pantry and squeezed until it popped, sending a shower of tiny shells spilling across the counter. “Why did you say ‘yes’?”
“Well,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “he kind of popped it on me and I didn’t want to turn him down. Especially after what happened this morning. Which,” Marta added, “was your fault.”
Not waiting for the water to boil, Stash piled the pasta into the pan. “We’ve already gone over that part. Now, tell me the real reason you said ‘yes’.”
Thinking back over the day, Marta knew exactly why she agreed to go out with Bradley Mirelli. “Fine. Babe.”
“Babe? Do you mean Lindi? Seriously?”
The raking of her bare feet over hot coals couldn’t be more painful than the amused tone to his voice. There was something about the way he took her feelings and ran with them that annoyed the hell out of her. “So, you’re jealous of Lindi, and I’m jealous of Bradley.” He sighed. “And just where does this get us, beautiful?”
Marta shrugged. Now that it was all setting in, she was feeling sick to her stomach. “Nowhere, I suppose.”
“Story of my life,” he mused. “I seem to pick the ones I can’t have.”
The words wanted to escape. She wanted to shout out her feelings for him – but something kept them locked up inside. The mental image of Kyle, lifeless and blue, assaulted her mind’s eye. “I’m bad lucky, anyway.” An involuntary jerk pulled her out of her thoughts and shoved Kyle’s face back into the shattered box she kept stitched together with a thin thread of sanity.
“I don’t believe in luck, good or bad. That’s a catch-all term for people who work hard and succeed, or people who make the wrong decisions and fail. You create your own way in this life, beautiful, and if things go good, people call you lucky. If things go bad, people call you names. You can’t win and you can’t get ahead – at least not in the eyes of the masses.”
“Medication, therapy or both, Stash.” Though she was used to hearing Stash lament about his unfair lot in life, the depressing tone of his rhetoric was beginning to bother her. “You need to get past this ‘woe is me’ cr
ap. You’re poor. I get it. I’m poor, too. You’re jealous of your brother. Check. All women are money whores. Double check.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’ve got issues, too, but you don’t see me blubbering about them constantly. Try talking to yourself and putting this stuff in its proper place. Believe me. It helps.”
Stash popped the lid on the jar of sauce. “Am I really that bad? Truly?”
“Yes.” Marta felt a bit guilty placing the total burden of blame on Stash’s shoulders. “Yes, you are. Just like I am.”
“You? You couldn’t be bad if you wanted to.” Stash kissed the top of her head.
“Kyle’s death did something to me.” Her eyes glazed over as she thought back to a time when she thought her life would never move beyond Kyle, where every waking, conscious thought revolved around his death, and where every event seemed to correlate with something related to him. “I can’t explain exactly what, but I feel like a kid locked on the outside of the playground looking in. I want to go in and play, but I’m afraid of what’ll happen if I fall off the swing.”
The pan of pasta boiled up and down over the side before running into the burner; Stash yanked it aside and stirred down the foam. “You’ll heal. Like they say, the worst cuts heal or kill, and you’re a strong woman, Marta Manchester.”
Having never thought of herself as strong, Marta found that assertion hard to believe. After all, she would be the first to admit that the whole Kyle thing put her very close to the edge on more than one occasion. “I’m not sure I can ever let anyone in. I don’t think I could live through something like that again.”
A hollow, melancholy tone rang through Stash’s voice. “Well, it seems like we’re a pair matched in hell. I don’t trust women and you don’t trust yourself. We’re two left feet.”
Marta laughed despite the sad truth of it all. “Yep. And the pathetic part is we’re going in the same direction with no destination in sight.” She looked up at Stash. “Does this mean we’re losers?”
Stash raised a brow. “I hate that word. And, no. We’re not losers. This just means we’re fighters. Doesn’t mean we’ll win. Just means we won’t go down without trying.”
Every single time he uttered one of his clichéd sayings, Marta felt more of her old self dissolving away. Stash was therapy – the painful kind that puts you in agony for your own good. Without thinking, Marta leaned in and kissed Stash on his stubbled cheek, and before she could pull away, he’d wrapped his arms around her and reciprocated with his warm lips. She liked it and never wanted to stop, but that contemptible prison guard she called her heart, stepped between them.
“I hate when you do that,” he murmured in her ear. “Why do you always pull away? Why can’t you trust me?”
Marta breathed in his scent. “Probably for the same reason you can’t trust me. It works both ways, you know.”
He sighed and let his hands drop away from her. “We’re a disgusting pair. I think we deserve each other.”
Marta laughed. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it?”
“You wanna know what’s even more ironic?” He tapped the end of her nose with the tip of his finger. “What I need most, I won’t let myself have, and you have what I need, but you won’t share. And by you not sharing, you’re not getting what you need, which would also give me what I need.” He slid the jar of sauce toward her. “It’s a perpetual circle that’s got a crack in it.”
“Too deep for me, Stash.” Marta grabbed the jar and poured the sauce over the pasta. “Well, it’s not gourmet, but it’ll fill the spot.”
He caught her wrist and pulled her to him again, showering her forehead with kisses. “Why won’t you let me make love to you, beautiful? You won’t regret it, and I promise to be gentle.”
A glut of emotions twisted Marta up in knots. “I…can’t. I don’t want to be next in line, Stash. I want forever, and unless you can promise me that, then…I’m sorry.”
She felt Stash tense up just before he pulled away from her. “Yeah. Well, as someone once told me, forever’s a long time.” He turned his face away from her. “Let’s eat.”
Chapter 10
The alarm was particularly annoying when it went off the next morning. Marta slammed her hand down on the button and kicked the blankets down to the bottom of the bed.
She sat up, struggling to catch a glimpse of light eking through the drapes.
“Lovely,” she grumbled, dragging her exhausted body out of bed. “Tuesdays already suck enough without rain.”
As soon as she hit the bottom step, Marta knew something wasn’t quite right.
“Stash?” She looked toward the drapes, still drawn tight. “Where are you?” The enticing smells of breakfast didn’t greet her as they usually did. The kitchen was bleak and empty.
Marta spun around and was about to investigate the rest of the cottage when she noticed something sticking up out of her favorite coffee cup. With shaking hands, she uncurled the piece of paper and smoothed it out on the counter.
Her heart raced as she read through the short, but definitive letter.
Beautiful,
I hope you’re not too upset with me for bailing out on you like this, but I think it’s for the best. I suck, my life sucks, and all I’m doing is dragging you down with me. You have a chance for a great life with Bradley. Go for it. Bills are paid through next month. Stay as long as you like. Thanks for the use of the gas. It’s been a great ride.
Stash
Marta felt like she’d had a gaping hole ripped right through her chest. Hollow. The word could only scratch the surface of what she was feeling. How could he just up and leave without saying goodbye face to face?
Marta re-rolled the note and dropped it back down into her cup. And then she sat down and had a long, soul-cleansing cry.
Marta skipped eating that morning. It probably would have come back up anyway. She barely remembered the drive to work.
Midge was the first one to notice something was wrong.
“Fight with your mother?”
Marta grunted. “That would have been preferable. At least a fight can be resolved.”
“Oh. That sounds ominous. Wanna talk?” Midge helped Marta twist her wild mane up under the hair net.
“He’s gone. Just like that. Poof!”
“Are we talking about the infamous roommate?”
Marta locked eyes with Midge. “Infamous? It’s not like I talk about him all the time.”
Midge crossed her arms and raised a brow. “Yeah. Only every other word. Stash this and Stash that. Well, okay,” Midge confessed after being leveled with the eye. “Maybe not every other word, but you mention him at least three or four times a day.” She caught herself when she noticed the pain on Marta’s face. “I’m sorry, honey. Where did he go?”
Marta shrugged. “Don’t know. He left me a note and said I’d be better off without him. No goodbyes. Nothing!”
“Wow. On the scale of suckage, that has to rank pretty high. Maybe you can call him.”
“No,” Marta groaned. “He’s the last living person that doesn’t have a cell phone. And even if he did, he was serious. Stash never does anything on a whim.” Another twisting ache ripped at Marta’s stomach. “My, god! I’m never gonna make it through this day.”
Midge rubbed her shoulders. “Well, you’re in luck. Mirelli’s gone. We watched him leave in his little, expensive sports car just after we unlocked this morning. The only downside is we now have Jennifer hanging over our heads.”
“Great. We all know how she just loves me.”
The day dragged on and on, and Marta felt like a caged animal just waiting for an opportunity to lash out at life. That opportunity walked in later that afternoon.
“Do you have a minute?” Lindi stood there, dripping wet and looking like someone had just run over her cat.
“If it’s about Stash, I don’t know where he is. He took off sometime last night.” The words came out rough and blunt, and Marta didn’t care. Lindi’s feelings were de
ad last on her list of importance.
“He left a message on the machine,” she said, her hollow eyes trailing after Marta as she cleaned off the table. “Did he say why he was leaving?”
Marta shrugged. “Stash never consults me on things like this, and it’s really none of our business, now is it?”
“Well, do you expect him back?” Agitated with the lack of information, Lindi closed in on Marta. “Come on, Marta! You’ve gotta know more than you’re telling.”
“I … don’t know anything.” Struggling to keep her emotions in check, Marta avoided looking at Lindi. She hated the fact that she’d let herself be pulled right into the very thing she despised the most – female drama. “Besides, from what I hear, he’s got some pretty good perks at work, so I’m sure he’ll come around eventually.”
Lindi pulled her trench coat tight and knotted down the belt. “Is that what he said, or is that your imagination in jealous overdrive?”
Marta spun around to face Lindi. “I am not jealous! As a matter of fact, I couldn’t care less.” Big lie, but Lindi didn’t need to know that. “I could’ve had Stash Steele from day one, but I chose not to.”
Lindi grunted. “Well, at least I know it’s not me.”
Bewildered, Marta searched Lindi’s tired face for an explanation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Pulling her collar up, Lindi turned around. “You’ll figure it out,” she said over her shoulder. “And if you hear from Stash, would you mind telling him to give us a call? I need to know if I should hire another mechanic.”
Marta watched the object of her disdain dive back out into the sheets of pelting rain. “What in the hell was that?” she mumbled to herself.
“Trouble on the home front?” Midge swooped in to help Marta clean up. “Jennifer’s on the prowl, and she’s looking for meat, so get your butt moving.”
“I’m trying.” An empty salt shaker tumbled to the floor, and Marta scrambled to retrieve it before it rolled under the next table. “My nerves are shot,” she said, plunking the runaway shaker down on the tray. “How much longer?”