Rationally—
Ah, fuck. Rationality had little room in the disturbed mind of a man with a broken heart.
He gathered the rest of the towels, murderous thoughts in his head, then stormed through the doors of the gym, one thing on his mind.
Killing Artie Langford.
Tig grabbed his keys off his desk, reminding himself that, for many reasons, some of them almost worth ignoring, he couldn’t actually harm Artie. Climbing into his car, he told himself that he really couldn’t do anything to Sage either, because, hell, they’d never even gotten back together in the first place and she wasn’t his to claim.
As he drove home through familiar neighborhoods, and down streets he knew like the back of his hand, he vaguely realized that he was headed straight for the one woman who couldn’t hurt him. The one woman who would never have enough of his heart to damage it beyond repair.
He threw the car into park in his old driveway, barely pausing to pull the keys from the ignition before he was out the door and walking up the steps.
Rosie had the door open before he reached the porch. “Tig? What’s wrong? What happened?”
He pushed inside the house—his house—closing the door behind him, then slammed her against the wall. He crushed his mouth over hers in an angry kiss, waiting for her to relax beneath his touch, to open up to him, to part her lips for him, waiting for her to let him in…let him forget.
“Tig,” she pleaded, her arms stiff at her sides. “Stop!”
He pulled back, panting, and looked into the hazel eyes of the woman who’d stolen his life from him. “What’s wrong? Don’t want to fuck a cripple?”
She gasped, her hand flying over her mouth. “What did you just say to me?” Tears sprung to life in her eyes, and as Tig studied those familiar browns, really looked at them, into them, he finally realized the pain he’d caused in her life. He noticed the crow’s feet, the tiredness in her eyes, the dull acceptance…the creased lines of a woman who’d spent too many years waiting for him. Too many years loving him. Too many years chasing a love that would never be hers.
He closed his eyes, sagging against her, then buried his head in her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rosie. I’m so sorry.” Tears filled his eyes, but instead of holding them back, instead of feigning pride and strength, he crumpled to the ground at her feet.
Held by the woman he’d spent too long unfairly hating, the woman he’d damaged beyond repair, he cried. Consumed by the realization that he’d never let himself love her, not because of who she was, but because of who he was.
He’d failed Sage when he hid her away. She never should have been his secret, his alone to treasure.
He’d failed Rosie when he married her, keeping up the façade, the promise of a happy life together. Failed her when he could never give her the children she so desperately wanted, so greatly deserved.
He’d failed his family when he lost his chances at the Olympics. Failed himself when he lied, year after year, pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
A small-town nobody who’d given up the only thing he’d ever loved, then neglected the one woman who’d remained by his side.
In his ex-wife’s arms, he cried for all he’d lost, all he’d been, and a love that he’d never have again.
“Will you be chaperoning prom next weekend?”
Sage jumped, but remained seated as she looked up from her sorting. “Mr. Langford, how can I help you today?”
He swept his hair out of his eyes, his expression dark. He wore his Lettermen’s jacket, and leaned casually against her door frame. “Why have you been ignoring me?”
She glanced past him to the empty hallway beyond. “I can’t see you anymore,” Sage whispered. She spun her chair around, turning her back to the boy in her office, focusing on the files she’d been sorting through before he interrupted her routine.
“What do you mean?”
“Lower your voice,” she snapped. She walked around the desk, then closed the door and turned to Artie. “I can’t see you anymore, Mr. Langford. This”—she waved her hand between them, then glanced at the windows to make sure no one watched from the hall—“is over. Never happened.”
Artie’s shoulders fell. “No. Please don’t do this to me. What did I do?”
She furrowed her brow, searching for the words. It wasn’t what he did, it was what she did, what she’d allowed. Against all her better judgment, she’d allowed her broken heart to guide her into the biggest mistake of her life, and then she’d continued that mistake.
And, as if her pride wasn’t shattered enough to begin with, she’d managed to become someone else’s shameful secret.
She was disgusted with herself.
“You didn’t do anything, Artie. You’re a sweet kid—”
“No. Don’t do that to me. Don’t you call me a sweet kid when I’ve been inside you, when I’ve watched your fucking eyes roll back in your head—”
“Shh!” she snapped. “That’s enough. It’s over, Artie. I’m a teacher.”
He stood straighter, squaring his shoulders. “You’re a nurse. And I’m eighteen. There’s nothing illegal happening here. I graduate in just over a month!”
“This is wrong.”
“I care about you.”
“That’s wrong.”
“So what? You think I care what other people think?”
“You should care what I think!” Sage snapped, briefly losing control of her volume. She cleared her throat, then lowered her voice back to a whisper. “I could lose my job.”
“Then I’ll take care of you!”
She snorted. “Oh, God, please. Just go, Artie.”
“You mean so much to me, Sage, so much more than—”
Sage undid the buttons of her left cuff, then pushed up the sleeve of her ivory blouse and emerald sweater, holding her breath as she exposed her own dirty little secret to Artemis Langford. She looked up as he gasped, then, with a sort of sick satisfaction, caught the horror in his eyes as the reality dawned on him.
He took a step back, mouth agape.
“There. How much do I mean to you now?” She unrolled her sleeve, straightening it back to where it had been. “You don’t even know me.”
His eyes widened again, then softened. “Your arm…you’re…you’re a cutter?”
She ignored the way his mouth formed around the word, over-pronouncing her little secret. “Yeah. I cut myself when the pain gets to be too much. Bet you didn’t know that about me, did you? Bet you didn’t know I was a freak.” She didn’t add that she’d stopped cutting herself years ago and she didn’t wait for his response, just walked to the door. As she twisted the knob to open it, she turned back to face him. “This is over. Forget about me and go live your life.”
Stunned and silent, Artie slowly took a step toward her, then paused, his gaze on her no-longer-exposed forearm. He began to reach for her hand—
“That will be all, Mr. Langford.”
He looked into her eyes once more, confusion and sadness in his gaze, opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, then he opened her office door and walked out.
That will be all.
As she began to turn around, his footsteps echoed as he walked back into the room. Sage stifled a groan.
“I’m not giving up on us, Sage.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Like hell.” He walked around the desk too quickly for Sage to react, then pinned her into the chair, one hand on either armrest. Leaning down to eye level, Artie narrowed his brown eyes, and Sage sucked in a breath.
“You can’t just dismiss me.”
Sage swallowed, shaking her head. “Yes, Artie, I can. Sleeping with you was wrong. It won’t happen again.”
“I won’t accept that.” Desperation widened his eyes, and the frantic expression on his face was nearly as alarming as the anger that preceded it.
“You have to.” Sage glanced around her empty office, the quiet hallway beyond, praying no one would find
them in this obvious standoff. “Please go.”
His fingertips grazed her cheek, bringing her attention back to his face. “I know you feel the same, Sage. I see the way you look at me, the way you want me.” He ran his hand down her throat, then squeezed her breast. “I know you’re thinking of what it’s like when I’m inside you.”
A strangled sound escaped Sage’s mouth; she’d made such a massive mistake. How would she fix this?
Artie leaned in, placing a kiss on her lips. “I’ll tell everyone about us, Sage. You’ll lose your job. Everyone will know.”
Sage’s heart sped. “Why? Why would you—?”
“Stay with me.” He kneaded her breast painfully. “I’ll keep us a secret if you stay with me. I love you, don’t you see that?” He brushed another kiss against her lips, then retreated. “I’ll see you soon.”
Sage closed her eyes and counted to twenty-five, then thirty, then fifty as his footsteps faded away, waiting for the sinking, hopeless feeling to pass.
She’d just wanted to start a life here, just wanted to take care of Jimmy. Tears streamed from her eyes.
She’d just wanted to be happy.
“Nurse Shepard.”
Sage looked up, quickly wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “Principal Hale. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“No,” the man said, eyes warily watching her, and his forehead creased. “I suspect you didn’t.”
Sage’s heart dropped to her lap, and her pulse accelerated. This was it. The worst possible outcome.
Ellie Hall stepped from behind him, into Sage’s view.
No. Now it was the worst possible outcome.
Ellie wouldn’t even look Sage in the eye.
“I won’t ask for an explanation,” Principal Hale began, “Nor will I involve the school board. You’re a good employee, and I think I know what kind of person you are, current transgression aside. Elspeth—Mrs. Hall—has had nothing but wonderful things to say about you”—Sage’s gaze flicked to Ellie, who still wouldn’t look at her—“and I trust this woman more than most people I deal with in my day-to-day life.”
Sage dared to breathe, though her breath was shaky and she felt like she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.
“We’ve heard rumors of Artemis Langford’s… indiscretions. You’re not the first woman to become the object of his fascination or his obsessive nature.”
Sage raised her eyebrows, her stomach sinking. Was he implying that Artie—
“Since I know that the boy is eighteen years old, what you’ve done is not technically illegal, so I won’t contact the authorities, though it is wrong. You do understand that, don’t you?”
Sage sucked in a breath, her mind scrambling for the appropriate response, something to save her job, her reputation, her dignity. “Sir, I—”
“Yes or no, Miss Shepard.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have until end of day to clean out your things. This will go on record as a leave of absence, for personal reasons, eventually becoming permanent.” He turned to leave, all business like the charcoal suit he wore.
Sage watched him go, then focused on Ellie Hall, who still stood in the doorway, wringing her plump hands in front of her.
“Ellie, please—”
The look Ellie shot her made Sage’s breath catch in her throat, the words lost on her tongue. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even disgusted. With wet eyes glistening in the fluorescent lights, Ellie shook her head, then turned and walked away, leaving Sage a broken shell of a broken woman sitting in the middle of an office that was no longer hers.
Tig watched with bated breath from his secluded spot in the sliver of shadow beside the gym, as Sage carried the last box to her car. He knew what had happened without actually knowing it.
He’d wondered how long it would take before someone found out about her relationship with Artie Langford.
As angry as he’d been these last few weeks, he’d never stopped loving her, and wanted more than ever to save her. But this time, the trouble wasn’t done to her, it was of her own doing, and if Tig knew one thing, it was that he couldn’t save her from herself.
He watched her climb into her Jetta, then froze while she scanned the field and area around the gym. Had she seen him? Was she looking for him? He didn’t know, and she didn’t make a move to come to him. As she drove away, leaving the parking lot, he wondered if that was the last he’d see of her.
His visits with Jimmy had continued, though with less and less frequency since Sage returned, and he wondered where she’d go, where she’d work. He knew she had to maintain a certain amount of income and stability to take care of Jimmy, and jobless wouldn’t cut it.
His heart clenched at the thought of losing her again.
His cell phone vibrated in his back pocket, and his heart practically leapt from his chest. She had seen him! He dropped the clipboard and paperwork he’d been holding in his haste to get to his phone and answer her call.
“Hello? Hello?”
“Tig? What’s wrong?”
The familiar number on the screen didn’t register in his brain until he heard his ex-wife’s voice on the line.
“Oh, hey, Rosie.”
She sighed. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Nothing. What’s up?”
“It’s her, isn’t it? What’s she done now?”
He’d told Rosie everything. He hadn’t meant to, and he’d regretted it as soon as he’d snapped out of his tear-filled stupor, but the truth had already been exposed. So, on top of already hating Sage Shepard for her unrelenting presence in their marriage—even after Sage had long been gone from their lives—Rosie now had even more reason to think badly of her.
“She didn’t do anything, Rosie. Please let it go. Please forget I ever told you all that.”
She scoffed; a sound he knew all too well, even muffled over the phone line. “That’s a little hard to forget, Tig. But anyway, are we still on for tonight?”
He closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. “Tonight?”
“Oh, Tig, you promised. It’s our divorce party.”
Tig’s eyes widened as he remembered what he’d agreed to. Damn her for making him commit to anything while he’d been a crumpled up mess of tears and shattered pieces on the floor of her foyer. And damn her for making him commit to something as absurd as a date in honor of their divorce. Who did that? “Yeah, yeah, I remember.”
“You’re going to flake, aren’t you?”
Ever since he’d realized just how much he’d done to let her down, the years of wasted time she’d spent with him when all along he’d known she would never be as important as even the memory of Sage Shepard, he’d felt guilty. He didn’t love Rosie as a wife, but he owed her at least the respect of a friend after all the years they’d spent together.
“No, no, I’ll be there.”
“Great. You remember where I live?” She giggled—the most lighthearted she’d sounded in years. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so horrible.
“I think I can find the place.”
A few hours later, Tig pulled up to his old home. The unassuming little one-story with blue trim and lighter blue shutters, and a picket fence around the yard, reminded him of a life that he didn’t even feel was his. Someone else’s story, some other lifetime ago.
He popped a Vicodin into his mouth and swallowed it without water, trying to numb the pain in his shoulders, his chest, the all-consuming ache he’d felt since the realization of how empty his life was sank deep down into his bones. Maybe the pain was real, maybe it was all in his head. It didn’t matter.
Tig dragged himself from the seclusion of his pickup truck, remembering at the last second to grab the bottle of Chardonnay off the seat, then slowly trudged to the door. He hoped Rosie wasn’t watching—his slumped shoulders would give away how displeased he was by tonight’s not-date, and he truly didn’t want to hurt her anymore.
He’d get in, get out, a
nd go on his way. Maybe this divorce party would give Rosie the closure she obviously needed. He could at least do that much for her.
She opened the door as he reached up to knock, her long dark hair braided and resting over one shoulder, her tanned shoulders exposed above the flowy dress she wore. She smiled brightly, more happiness in her chocolate-brown eyes than he’d seen in years.
“Glad you could make it.” She took the Chardonnay from his hands and examined the bottle. “My favorite; you remembered.”
He bit back the snappy retort on the tip of his tongue. Of course he remembered. They’d been together forever and few trips to the store hadn’t resulted in some sort of complaint about how expensive this particular bottle of white was.
He followed Rosie inside, noting somewhat absently that the candles he never liked her to use were lit in the foyer, then a few more in the kitchen. She glanced back at him, noticing the object of his gaze.
“Oh, my husband hated candles, said they weren’t safe. I won’t tell him if you don’t.”
Tig smiled, despite himself. The whole situation was absurd, and having dinner with his ex-wife to celebrate their divorce was…odd, at best, but something was alive in Rosie again, some spark of the girl he remembered from long before their tired marriage took its toll on her.
“I made your favorite, fresh gnocchi in a browned butter sauce, with sautéed spinach and an asparagus risotto.”
Tig’s smile grew. “That’s your favorite.”
“I know! Doesn’t it sound delicious?” She laughed, clearly enjoying their little game of make-believe. “Come, sit. I may not have made your favorite food, but I did get your Scotch.” She winked at him.
His eyes widened. “Johnny Platinum?”
“Yessir.” She poured him a glass, then walked to where he sat on the small couch and watched him take that first sip.
His eyes fluttered closed as the golden liquid caressed his tongue. “Damn.”
“Good stuff?”
Chlorine and Chaos Page 16