by KB Winters
“Leave Brighton?”
Kate’s tone was an answer in itself. “Never mind. No one ever leaves Brighton.” I waved a hand and then picked up my coffee.
Kate set aside the pile of menus. “Dylan did. You’re really thinking of leaving Brighton?”
I dragged my eyes from the view of the street outside the diner’s front windows and back to hers. “Dylan joined the Navy. He’s back now, anyway. You and I both know that hardly anyone gets out of this place.”
“Trust me, I know.”
Something in her voice pricked at my curiosity, but before I could ask her what she meant, the doorbell chimed and a group of men in three-piece suits made their way inside. We were starting to get drop-ins from some of the new low rise construction going up, the overflow from companies in Boston looking for cheaper office space in the outskirts. A much needed uptick for Brighton. I slapped on a smile and helped them get situated in a corner booth.
Chapter Fifteen
Dylan
My heart stopped at the smile on Emma’s lips as soon as she saw me heading into her diner. If I were a good man I’d turn and run the other way. I’d leave her alone. God only knows what she was thinking about me. Did she think there was a future? Did I? For better or worse we were drawn together. There was too much history, too many mistakes.
“Anything I can do around here?” I said. I’d timed my surprise visit for closing time.
“No, that’s all right. I’ve got it.” Emma smiled. “Did you want anything from the fridge? I have a few éclairs left and some muffins.”
“I’m good.” I shook my head.
She paused at the end of the counter and ran her fingers through her frazzled hair. Damn, she was sassy. “So, if you’re not here for a snack, can I ask what you’re here for?”
The one thing I wasn’t allowed to have.
I pushed aside the mental images of all the ways I wanted her and forced a polite smile. “I came to walk you home.”
Emma frowned. “Dylan, I live literally one flight of stairs away. I don’t need a babysitter. If I’m in some kind of danger then I want you to tell me.”
I flexed my jaw. “I don’t know what happened to Jimmy and Tommy. All right? I’m still working to put it together. All I do know is that I’ll feel better knowing where you are and that you’re safe.”
Emma stared at me for a minute, her eyes bouncing back and forth between mine, as though she was looking for something. When she looked away she heaved a sigh and then went to stack chairs on the tables crowded around the front window. “I’ll be fine, Dylan. Don’t worry about me.”
“Emma—”
“No.” She turned on her heels and a spark flit to life in her eyes. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I don’t want a bodyguard. I’m leaving here and going to run some errands with my son. I’m not going to explain to him why some man in a black motorcycle jacket is following us around. He’s confused enough as it is.”
The blood in my veins kicked into a simmer, but I gave her a curt nod and strode back to the doors. “Fair enough. I’ll let you know what I find out about the shootings,” I said. “Have a good night.”
“Goodnight, Dylan.”
***
My mom was the only one home when I arrived back at my parents’ house. She was sitting alone in the dining room, a cup of tea to her right as she flipped through a magazine. “Where’s everyone?” I asked as I came into the room.
She glanced up. “Oh, Dylan. I didn’t hear you come in. Your father and Uncle Paddy went out to get a pint.”
I frowned. “Hopefully that’s all they find—” I muttered under my breath. Cause if a poker game or a slot machine was involved, we could all be in trouble.
“What was that?”
I shook my head, dismissing it. “Mom, you really ought to lock the front door when you’re home alone.”
She flapped a hand. “Sit down. Have some tea with me.”
I laughed. “I’m not really a tea guy.”
“Well there’s some of that god-awful beer in the fridge too, if you’d prefer.”
“I would.”
I grabbed a beer and then padded back into the dining room and sat beside her. “How are you?”
She closed the magazine and reached over to squeeze my hand. “Holding up.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Tell me that you’re here to stay.”
Her words twisted my heart into a crumpled ball. “I wish I could.”
“Do you?”
I sighed. “Yes and no. Being back has been interesting. I realize how much I’ve missed you guys. But even in the last few days I’m getting restless. This neighborhood is too small. I don’t like the fishbowl feeling that’s following me around. Everywhere I go people come up and want to talk. It’s all meant to be friendly, but it’s a little intense.”
“You’re a real life hero to these folks.”
“I know.”
She sipped at her tea, and as she set the cup aside a smile formed on her lips. “Have you seen much of Emma since you’ve been in town?”
I groaned. “Mom—”
Her smile widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
It was good to see her smile, even if it meant delving into the past.
“We’ve seen a little of each other.”
“And?”
“What? She’s going through a lot. I’m just trying to help.”
“You sure that’s all?”
“Ma, I’m surprised by you!” I shook my head. “She just lost her husband.”
“Well...some would say she lost him a while ago.”
I cocked my head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Tommy and Emma were never the picture of perfection, Dylan. You ought to know that considering how well you knew them. Didn’t they ever strike you as an odd pair?”
I swallowed hard as the memory of getting Emma’s letter in the mail sprang to life, playing out like the terrible crux of some sappy romance flick. “I try not to think too much about it.”
“Well, they were oil and water, son. You know how people talk in this neighborhood. They argued in restaurants, at the diner, even bickered in the grocery store.”
“Was she ever happy with him?”
“I don’t know, son. But if you want my opinion, she was only using him to get over you. It was doomed from the start.”
My jaw tensed. “And now what? We should just lay aside all the reasons we ended all those years ago and pick up again? She’s got a kid, Ma. A whole new life.”
“I’m not telling you to do anything.” She gave another smile and went back to sipping at her tea. “When do you leave?”
“A couple of weeks.”
“Where are they sending you this time?”
“I don’t know. Probably back to the Middle East. That’s where I was when the news reached me.”
“In your last letter, you mentioned you were trying to decide which way to go, as far as the future. Any more thoughts on that?”
“Lots of thoughts but no decisions.”
“What’s holding you back?”
I scoffed softly. “Hell, if I know. It makes the most sense to stay in, re-up my contract, and keep on keeping on. Why not? I don’t have anything else going on right now.”
“You have your family. Emma.”
I smiled at her. She was too insightful to get around. She’d always been the one person I couldn’t bullshit.
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand again. “I sure would like to have you home again, and I have no doubt that I’m not the only one.”
Chapter Sixteen
Emma
“But I don’t want to be here!” Tommy Jr. shouted as he sent a stuffed animal flying toward the wall opposite his race car-shaped bed. “I want to stay with Grandma!”
I sighed and tried to gather the shreds of patience I had left. “Tommy, honey, we can’t stay at Grandma’s tonight. Okay?”
“Why not?” he demanded, throwing his arms around himself.
“Because it’s time we started staying here. Things have to—” I paused, weighing my words carefully. “We have to move forward, Tommy.”
He stared at me like I’d slapped him across the face. He was far too young to understand.
I squatted down to pick up the discarded plush and took it back to him. “Rascal wants you to stay here tonight. Okay?”
He reached out and swatted the toy from my hands. “No!”
“Everything okay in here?”
I cringed at the sound of my mom’s voice. I needed her desperately but hated that I couldn’t seem to manage on my own.
Tommy flew across the room and launched himself into her arms. “Grandma! Can I come stay with you tonight?”
My mom looked to me, and I shook my head.
“Tommy, dear, why don’t you go help Auntie Kate with the groceries, all right?”
She set him down, and he bolted from the room.
“Mom—”
“Honey, he needs more time. Let him do what makes him more comfortable.”
I raked my fingers through my tangled hair. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d washed it. Two—three days? The realization made my insides twist up into a tighter knot. I was falling apart. Rapidly. All efforts to get back on track were failing left and right, and I was beginning to feel like a rudderless boat just lost on the sea.
I gave my mom a pleading glance. Hoping for rescue. “We have to move on. He has to get back to his normal routine.”
She stepped further into the room and wrapped me into an embrace. As soon as her arms were around me, a floodgate burst and I was immediately sobbing against her.
She stroked my hair and let me cry. “Shh, shh, baby girl, it’s going to be all right.”
“I feel so… so unraveled,” I said with a hiccup.
“Of course, you do. Your husband just died. No one expects you to get everything rearranged in a week. Well, at least, no one except you expects that.” She released me and wiped the tears from my face. “Why are you being so hard on yourself, baby?”
I shook my head and held my breath. The truth was too awful to speak out loud.
She waited a moment but then let me off the hook. “Let Tommy stay with me a few more nights. I don’t mind. It won’t be forever, honey. You can stay here and have some quiet time. Take a bath or read a book. Watch some TV. You work too hard and too long to not take some time for yourself. Kate and I brought over some food for dinner. It’s not much but we’ll all have dinner, and then we’ll go and get Tommy settled for the night and you can rest. Okay?”
I knew as soon as they left I’d end up lying on the bed or the couch, staring up at the ceiling. But it didn’t matter if I was miserable. If it would make Tommy happy, I had no choice but to agree. What kind of monster would I be if I didn’t do everything in my power to help him? Especially when he was only asking to stay across the hall.
Suddenly the entire debate felt stupid and petty. I nodded. “All right. He can stay with you tonight. Or as long as he needs.”
My mom squeezed my arms and then left the room. I followed her to the kitchen and found Kate had the oven preheating and a frozen lasagna on a cookie tray, ready to go in. Tommy was sitting at the small table eating straight from a box of cherry tomatoes. He looked up at me, and I could see the remnants of tears on his cheeks. The sight broke my heart into a million pieces all over again. I wondered if the shards would ever find their way back together. Would I always feel like I was barely holding it together with a thread?
“You can stay at grandma’s tonight,” I said to him as I took the seat beside him. I reached for a tomato—even though my stomach had soured—and popped it into my mouth. “After dinner, I’ll pack you a bag. Okay?”
Tommy smiled. “Okay, Mom.”
***
When dinner was over, I helped get Tommy ready for bed and then went back to the empty apartment across the hall. I pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured half the contents into the largest glass I owned. I turned on the TV and flicked through the channels mindlessly, waiting for something to catch my attention. When I’d cycled through a few times I gave up and left it on the last channel it landed on. The noise in the background was comforting. I couldn’t handle being left alone with myself. The nagging thoughts were too much. I was too tired to fight them back.
So, instead, I drank.
And drank.
The warmth filled my stomach and then spread over my arms and legs, and then eventually to my head, taking away all the voices of doubt and rage and despair. They melted away to nothing, and I could finally relax. At some point, I stripped off the cotton dress I wore to the diner and slipped into my robe and a pair of long socks that reached to mid-calf. I settled on the couch, letting the TV noises lull me into a hazy sleep.
Right before I tipped over the edge a sharp knock yanked me back to reality. I sat up and watched the room tilt. The knocking sounding again.
“For fuck’s sake . . .” I pushed up from the couch and padded to the door, swaying slightly. I’d packed everything Tommy needed for the night. Had he decided to come home after all? Maybe he’d woken up to a nightmare.
I unlocked the two deadbolts and pulled the door open without checking the peephole. I stared down at a pair of tan boots as they stood planted wide on the faded welcome mat in front of my door. Slowly, I followed the lines of the strong legs up to the broad torso and eventually found a pair of familiar blue eyes watching me.
“Dylan? What are you doing here?”
He was wearing the same clothes he had when he came to the diner though it was well past midnight. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low.
I sagged against the doorframe, every ounce of energy drained away. “What do you want?”
“I was thinking about what you said.”
“Ugh!” I pushed away from the door and stumbled back to the kitchen.
“Are you drunk?”
The note of scandal in his clipped tone only infuriated me more. “No!” I said way too loudly to be convincing. “No, I’m not.”
He gave a pointed look at the two bottles by the sink and raised his eyebrows.
“Screw you, Dylan! I don’t need you to come up to my house and ask questions like that. In fact,” I paused and rounded a chair at the kitchen table. I braced my hands on the back of it as the room went spinning again. My stomach clenched and I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment, willing away the dizziness. “I don’t need you in my house at all. I didn’t ask for you to come back—here—to wander around like some fucking ghost!”
Dylan stepped inside and shut the front door.
“No! You’re not staying.” I flapped a hand. “Just go away! I don’t need you. Not anymore.”
“Em, what is going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” He crossed his arms. My eyes snapped to the way his jacket went tight around his biceps and hated myself at the rush of heat that pooled inside me. “What the hell has you so pissed off?”
I jerked the chair away from the table and sat down roughly. “Life, Dylan. Life.”
“Care to be more specific?”
I groaned into my hands. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Everything is fucked up. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.” I swallowed a hard lump in my throat and willed myself to keep from crying. “My whole damn life stopped making sense a long time ago. I thought—” I glanced up at him. “I thought we’d be together. That we’d have this amazing life together. We’d travel the world and get far, far away from this place. You remember how we were going to leave this neighborhood and all the shit behind?”
He tensed.
I gave a hollow laugh. “I never thought you’d leave without me. Never in a million years did I see that coming. And I feel like I’ve been picking up the pieces ever since!”
“Em,
you’ve got a great life here. You have a home, a business, your son. I’d say you’ve done pretty well for yourself.”
I laughed, the sound cold and foreign. “I’m not even sad that he’s gone.” I shook my head as my lips began to tremble. “Not one little bit. And that’s so fucked up that I’m beginning to think that I’m the real monster. It wasn’t him. It was me all along. My son hates me. He can’t stand to be in the same room as me. And why would he? I’ve been so goddamned miserable all these years. I’m not the happy, fun mom with papier-mâché volcanos or the one who bakes cookies just because. I’m always working and when I’m not working, I’m trying to keep a million balls in the air. I don’t laugh or smile or have fun.”
Dylan moved around the table and tried to pull me up. “Em, I’m sure that’s not true.”
I batted his hands away. “Just leave me alone, Dylan. You can’t fix me. You can’t fix any of this. I shouldn’t have even said those things to you.”
“Emma, let me help you.”
“You can’t!” I bellowed. I pushed up from the table too quickly, sending the room spinning yet again. I zeroed in on him as best as I could. “You left. And now, you’re leaving again. So, go on! This isn’t your mess to clean up. I’ll be fine. Just like I was the past eight fucking years!”
He reached for me again, and I jumped back as though his hands were made of hot coals. I braced myself against the counter. “Just go, Dylan. Please.” My voice was reduced to a desperate whisper.
Something changed in Dylan’s eyes. A dark spark. He moved slowly toward me, only stopping when his face was a breath from mine.
“I love you, Emma Flannigan or Gallagher. Whatever name you go by. That’s never changed.” He kissed me softly. “Try to remember that when I left, it was because I thought I was doing the best thing. For both of us.”
Before my mind could process his words, he was gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Dylan
In nearly eight years of service with the Navy, I’d seen a lot of shit. People in pain—of all kinds—devastation and horrors. But as I left Emma’s apartment, I knew that the image of her broken face would haunt me until the day I died.