by Jessie Lane
What about Riley choosing extra missions because he couldn’t deal with me? Would he do that sort of thing again? There was no way to know unless I gave him another chance, was there? That didn’t mean I wasn’t scared shitless that, if I gave us another chance, he would avoid our problems instead of helping me face them. I had managed to pull myself out of the black hole of my depression with therapy and medication. I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to do it a second time if it went wrong between the two of us again.
Riley looked over to where I stood at the end of the counter. “You woke up just in time, babe.” He piled some of the drained spaghetti on a plate, poured sauce over it, and then added a piece of the chicken parmesan. “Let’s get some food into you.”
He led me over to my small, two chair table where he placed my plate down in front of me before returning to the kitchen. When he came back, he had a plate of his own, but he didn’t sit down. No, he put his own plate down then walked back into the kitchen, returning seconds later with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.
A little surprised he was serving me dinner and breaking out alcohol already, I asked, “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
He shook his head. “We had a meeting and then we were free for the rest of the day. I have to report in at five in the morning, though.” He hesitated for a second then continued, “I’ll be out of touch for at least a day, but I’ll come straight here when I get back.”
He watched me for my reaction, and I realized he was waiting for the one I used to give him. Disappointment. He wasn’t going to see that from me now.
Sure, a part of me was disappointed he was going on some kind of mission again right after we had reconnected; however, I was a much more understanding individual now. This was his job, and whatever it was, he had to go from time to time. What mattered was that he came back to me as soon as he could and spent what time he had available with me.
Nodding, I responded with, “Sounds good.”
When his eyebrows rose in surprise at my response, I decided to change the subject. “How long did I sleep if it’s dinner time already?”
“It’s four o’clock, babe. I thought we could eat early and enjoy some time together before I had to leave in the morning.” He poured us both a glass of wine.
I smiled at his thoughtfulness. “That sounds nice. What do you want to do after dinner?”
I was expecting some raunchy joke about doing me, what I got was the complete opposite.
“Why don’t we talk for now? You could start with telling me whatever it is you think is the reason I’ll walk away from you.”
Dropping my fork onto my plate, I clenched my hands together and then rested my head on top of them, watching Riley intently while I did so. I should have known he wouldn’t bullshit around.
Dragging in a deep breath, I grabbed my wine glass and drained it. A little liquid courage couldn’t hurt. Setting the glass back down, I absently ran my finger around the rim as I began.
My psychiatrist, Dayona, was a good place to begin the journey of healing. I told him about Mom forcing me to finally see a psychiatrist six months after losing our son and when she didn’t see my depression improving, she worried I’d try something drastic like suicide.
I watched as Riley flinched when I said the word suicide, but I kept talking so he wouldn’t dwell on it. I explained how Dayona basically dissected my entire life and then brought some startling things to my attention. I had ‘daddy abandonment issues.’ Very cliché sounding, although the truth, nonetheless.
The fear of abandonment from the men in my life had led me to slowly develop ideals that were then warped over time. I developed a fixation that, if I made myself ‘perfect,’ Riley wouldn’t leave me as my father had. I ticked off on my fingers some examples: my appearance, my college degree choice, and trying to be the perfect little Navy wife even when it hurt me. I explained that there was a little known ‘perfectionism disorder’ that people such as myself suffered from when the mind became obsessed with those sorts of ideals to the point that it warped our rationality.
Riley flinched again, harder this time.
I reached across the table and covered the hand I could reach with my own. “None of that is your fault, Riley. You loved me despite my faults. It just took me some intense therapy with Dayona to figure that out.”
He shook his head. “I should have tried harder. Maybe—”
It was my turn to shake my head. “We could play the maybe game all day, but it wouldn’t change what happened.”
Riley brought the hand he’d had under the table to land on top of mine and squeezed gently. “You’re right: our maybes won’t change a damn thing. That doesn’t change the fact that I realized after you left that I should have stopped running from our problems instead of facing them. You’ll never know how sorry I am for that, baby. I’d do anything to go back and change my actions.”
Although I thought I’d cried myself out earlier, I felt the familiar prick of tears at the back of my eyes. I wanted to try to hang on a little bit longer, though, before I let them free. I needed all the strength I had to get through the rest of this.
“I’m not done yet, so hear me out.”
He nodded and let me continue.
“On top of my ‘perfectionism disorder,’ I had also been suffering from mild depression. This is where we talk about a huge part of our marriage that was my fault. I knew I had depression. I’d been prescribed medication for it around the time you left for Bud/s training.”
He looked angry for a moment, but then that cleared as his appearance became thoughtful. “And you didn’t tell me because your thinking was already irrational because of the ‘perfectionism disorder?’
I nodded. “Exactly. I’d convinced myself I had to be the perfect Navy wife, remember? What good Navy wife let her husband worry over her because she had depression? So, I kept it to myself when I should have told you about it. It may be my burden to bear because it’s my body and mind suffering from depression, but Dayona made it clear that, when you’re married, two partners should share their burdens. As I go through the cycle of depression, those around me feel it from me, too. Although, I thought it was all me, every bit of it affected you, as well. It took me a while to let her beat that through my head, but eventually, I realized she was right.”
His hands tightened on me again, and he suddenly looked very worried. “Do you still suffer from depression?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Yes and no. Do I have to take depression medication every day of the year? No. Depression is a chemical imbalance in the body. Every now and then, that balance gets out of whack. Sometimes it’s a mild depression because of that imbalance, and sometimes, it’s a more severe depression triggered by events. When that happens, I need to go see my psychiatrist for a prescription. But the point of it all is, it’s totally treatable. As long as I take care of myself and stay aware of myself, I’m fine.”
His brows furrowed in confusion. “If you know all this now, especially the part where you tell me you’re fine, then why are you insisting I won’t want to be with you? Do you really think so little of me you believe I’d leave you for something as simple as a medical condition?”
My breath caught in my chest at his question. This was it. The moment of truth. There was no way to judge which way it was going to go. Either Riley was going to hear me out and stay, or he was going to leave and officially shatter what was left of my heart forever.
“Not over what I’ve told you just now, no.”
His confusion changed to worry. “There’s more you haven’t told me?”
Solemnly, I whispered, “Yes.”
Letting go of my hand, he reached across the table and ran his knuckles gently down the side of my face. “Get it all out, babe. It’s going to be okay, but I can’t prove that to you until you give me some of that burden to bear.”
The first tear fell. “I want you to know, Riley, if you decide you want to move on, I understand. I won’t hold it ag
ainst you.”
An anguished look crossed his face while his hand cupped my own face in silent support. Unable to take the comfort he was trying to give me, I pulled his hand down to the table.
Taking in a deep breath, I braced myself for the hard facts I had to give and what may happen because of it. “The accident that cost us our baby caused severe damage to my uterus,” I whispered.
“What are you saying, Kara?”
“I can’t have any more children.”
Riley’s face crumbled and dropped, and then what could only be called silent, manly tears trickled down his face. I watched the man I’d married cry for the first time in my life. I couldn’t help wondering if this was how he’d looked when he had found out we’d lost our son.
Those tears of his scared me. They made me worry I was right. Riley would want more children, and even though he loved me, he’d walk away from me because of this.
My heart started to pound in my chest, but I refused to push him. I’d had eight years to accept my fate. No matter how much it killed me, I could give him time to let this information sink in for him, too.
He turned his face down to the table, probably so I couldn’t see his tears anymore. And all I could do was sit silently and wait. As the minutes passed, my courage to wait started to wane. My worries and fears doubled then quadrupled until there was a good chance I’d either have an anxiety attack or start sobbing myself.
Needing some space because of my overwhelming emotions, I went to pull my hands from his yet was stopped by his hands now manacling mine.
Lifting his somber face back up to mine, he whispered, “You went through all of this alone… How could I make you go through this alone?”
The heart that had once been shattered for myself now broke all over again in jagged, ugly little pieces for Riley. If I wanted to push him away for good, there was no doubt in my mind I could do it now. All it would take were a couple of careless words thrown his way; that I agreed that he’d abandoned me, and then he’d walk out my door and never return out of guilt.
This was my moment of truth. The point in my life where, whatever action I took, I would either doom myself to an existence of misery or push myself towards peace and happiness. It was all up to me.
I stared into Riley’s green eyes. They were completely full of grief… and also so full of love. In that moment, I knew what I would do. I would have faith. I would believe in the power of love. And I would believe in the vows that I should have given more credence to in my marriage.
For better or worse.
Leaning forward, I lifted my hands that he still held onto by the wrists and cupped his face. “You didn’t leave me to deal with that alone, Riley. I walked away and doomed both of us to years of pain. I left you in a way that you couldn’t stand by me, even if you wanted to. That’s all on me, and this is me telling you I’m sorry for that. If you give me a chance, I’ll never walk away from you, or us, again.”
The word ‘again’ had barely left my lips before he hauled me across the table, sat me in his lap, and then slammed his mouth down on mine with an intensity I’d never felt before. He gave me a long, drugging kiss that felt as vital to my being as the air I breathed. It was beautiful. It was devastating.
It was the reconnection of two souls that should have never been separated.
When the kisses turned into something so mesmerizing I didn’t think I would ever feel anything this beautiful again, Riley once again proved me wrong. He cradled me in his arms, just as he had the day he’d carried me over the threshold after our wedding day, and walked both of us into my bedroom. There—with his lips, hands, and other parts—he made love to me so sweetly, so intensely, that I would never doubt how deep his love for me was again.
I only hoped he never doubted how I felt about him again, as well.
Chapter
16
Kara
I awakened for the second time late in the morning to an empty bed, although it was with the fresh memory of Riley gently waking me while it was still dark out with his mouth already between my legs. It was by far the best way I had ever been woken up in my life!
My ex-husband had made love to me sweet and slow, as if he had wanted to make sure he ingrained himself on me—in me—somehow. If that had been his intention, he had succeeded. Because the emotion he had given me with every kiss, every touch, had felt like he was melding himself to me until we were one.
Therefore, as I got up out of my bed and moved through my morning routine of coffee, breakfast, and a shower, I did it with a smile on my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this happy. It was a little scary, but I’d taken that leap of faith, so I had to push my fears aside and trust that Riley and I had changed enough to make it work this time.
I pulled up in front of my studio, shoving all of those thoughts out of my mind. I had to. There was a studio to clean and damage assessments to make to determine what was going to need to be filed with my insurance company. I wasn’t looking forward to a day of cleaning, but at least I’d have Lisa to help me.
I got out of my Jeep and started for the door when the sound of Harley motors caught my attention. Turning towards the noise, I watched as Hammer and Big Jim pulled up with Lisa on the back of Big Jim’s motorcycle.
After the two bikes parked, Lisa got off, removed her helmet, and tried furiously to fix her short hair. Her hair wasn’t the only thing that needed to be fixed, though.
Lisa looked like a hot mess, or perhaps, with the grin Big Jim sported on his face, I should say a freshly fucked mess.
She hurried up to where I was standing with my travel mug of coffee in hand, somehow not busting her ass as she jogged in her black, half calf, stiletto boots. Looking over her black leather short-shorts and gold halter top, it dawned on me that Big Jim had kept Lisa busier a hell of a lot longer than this morning.
“Girl, are those your clothes from the club last night?”
Lisa sheepishly shrugged.
“Don’t tell me you’re wearing one of your stripper bikini tops under that halter?”
This time she gave me a big smile. “Nope.”
I breathed out a small smile of relief.
“I’m not wearing anything under the halter.”
My jaw dropped open, and I shot an incredulous look to Big Jim who was walking up behind her. He had a big shit-eating grin on his face as he shot me a mischievous wink.
I snorted a laugh and shook my head, not judging. The men of the Regulators MC liked to party hard, so seeing Lisa in a state of dishevelment after a night of living wild with her old man wasn’t really a surprise. There had been a time when I had partied with them, but the desire to do so had fizzled out years ago, about the time I had stopped working at After Midnight.
Big Jim wrapped an arm around her waist, giving Lisa a kiss underneath her ear. I waited for the envy to hit me like it used to at Lisa and Big Jim’s loving and devoted relationship, yet nothing came. Riley had quickly filled that hole inside of me I had thought would never be full again, although I had hoped. Little by little, my hope was becoming more of a tangible thing. With a little more time, maybe my confidence in working things out with Riley would be more of a concrete certainty instead of fleeting hopes.
Moving to the front door, I got out my keys to unlock it.
“You ready to do this, girl? We’re going to be busting our ass all day, but we’re going to get your studio right again.” Lisa tugged on my hair.
Turning my head as I unlocked the door, I gave her a small smile at her willingness to help me. Then I opened the door without looking, stepped forward, and replied, “I appreciate you helping me, Lisa. I don’t know how I’d get it all done on my own.”
She gave me a reassuring pat on my shoulder. “We’ve got this, honey. No matter how—”
Lisa stopped midsentence as her jaw dropped open in shock at whatever she saw behind me. Concerned the vandals had broken back in, I turned to see what she was looking at and stopp
ed dead in my tracks.
It was gone.
The mess my shop had been in yesterday was totally gone. The shredded couch and destroyed queen sized bed were missing. The debris had been swept off the floor. There was also a neat pile in the waiting area of my destroyed equipment. The place wasn’t sparkling clean, but it was halfway there.
“Are y’all going to get through the fuckin’ doorway or what? Hammer and I are standing out here, lookin’ like jackasses with our dicks hangin’ in the wind because you two are holdin’ up traffic.”
I heard Lisa snap something back at Big Jim; however I didn’t pay attention to it was. Instead, I walked forward to the white piece of paper that was on the black countertop a few feet in front of me.
Sis,
Lucas and I cleaned up what we could.
I left your equipment because I figured you would need to make a list if you had insurance you could claim.
We’re taking your fucked up furniture with us, and we’ll dump it for you.
Sorry we couldn’t get rid of the spray paint, but I don’t exactly carry a paint brush in my pocket. Now go play suck face with Riley, and maybe you can talk him into buying a paintbrush.
Declan
Tears stung my eyes for the umpteenth time in less than a week while a sense of nostalgia washed over me. It was easy to forget how much you missed something, or someone, if the reminder of them was not in your face every day. This ridiculous, yet sweet, note from my ex-brother-in-law was a stark reminder of how much I had missed the Sullivans. Despite what had happened between Riley and me, the Sullivan family had always been there for me in every way they could.
It looked like I had more apologies to give out, but that was okay. Declan and Grandpa Pat deserved them, and I knew they would forgive me. I wasn’t too proud to say I was sorry if it would get me the rest of my family back.
I had to push all of that aside for now, though. I could thank Declan for his thoughtfulness later. I still had things to do, and the faster I got them done, the quicker I could go back to my apartment and wait for Riley to come home to me.