Tig opened his eyes again. “The best. Thank you.”
“No problem. Just don’t tell my ex-husband—he loved the stuff.” She giggled again in that carefree way and Tig warmed up a bit more to the idea of spending one last amicable evening with Rosie. Why not end things on a high note?
“Is this couch new?” Tig asked, running his hands across the flowery fabric of the sofa.
“You know it is, and it’s a loveseat, not a couch.”
As he sipped a bit more of his scotch, she opened her wine—without even asking for his help, because clearly, she was an independent woman now—then poured herself a glass and sat down beside him. “A toast.” She raised her glass and he raised his tumbler to meet hers. “To old friends, old lovers”—she winked—“not that we’re old, obviously, and new beginnings.”
Tig clanked his glass against hers. “To new beginnings.”
They both took a deep pull of their drinks, settling into the old familiar comfort of their living room. The fire blazed, filling the room with warmth. The scotch flowed, filling Tig with warmth, and the conversation was remarkably easy.
Removing the strain of their marriage from between them had broken down some pretty serious walls, and Tig wondered if maybe, just maybe, they could be friends after all of this.
Three light raps on the door pulled Sage from the magazine she absently flipped through. She glanced at the clock—just after eight. A man cleared his throat on the other side of the thin apartment door, and Sage’s heart sputtered. Could it be?
She stood, taking a long pull of her zin, then set the glass down and tried to walk to the door slowly when everything in her body urged her to run to him.
She smoothed her hair, then ran her palms over the front of her jeans and licked her lips, wondering if her makeup was smeared or food resided in her teeth.
Good grief. It didn’t matter. If Brand was here, then that was all that mattered.
She pulled open the door, his name on her lips. “Bran—” Sage frowned. “Artie?”
Principal Hale’s words rushed to her mind. Obsessive nature. She sucked in a breath, her nerves suddenly on high alert. Did he come here to hurt her? She quickly glanced back into the apartment, checking to see if Jimmy had been alerted to the visitor, then pulled the door shut behind her as she stepped outside, heart racing. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”
“Sage, please.” He leaned in, bringing his lips close to hers—
“No, Artie. Stop that.” She stepped back, her butt pressing against the stair railing, her arms extended before her, palms out. “You have to leave. I lost my job—”
“I told you I’d take care of you. I have money. If it’s money you need, baby, I have plenty. My dad, he’s a—”
“God, Artie, I don’t want your money! I want my job, my life. I ruined everything.”
“No, don’t talk like that.” He stepped closer, cornering her.
“I lost everything.”
“You still have me.”
“You threatened me.” Anger sliced through the trepidation. How dare this man—this boy—threaten her. How dare she allow him to?
“I didn’t mean—I wouldn’t have told anyone. I was just so scared. I love you. I can’t lose you.” He grabbed her shoulders, firmly. “Don’t leave me.”
Sage tried to pull away from him, but she was trapped between the railing and this boy who was clearly stronger than her. “Artie, please let go. You’re scaring me.”
“You’re scaring me!” He shook her, gently, but enough to set her heart racing even faster. “Don’t you see what you’re doing to me? We’re in love! Why would you try to deny that?”
Sage couldn’t fight the tears that welled in her eyes. “No, Artie. This isn’t love.”
“But the tattoos.” He searched her gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth anxiously. “That meant something.”
“No, Artie, those were just tattoos.” She spoke slowly, cautiously.
He leaned in, kissing the tears that streamed down her cheeks, frantically switching from side to side.
Sage froze, eyes clenched tightly shut, wishing the tears away, wishing him away. “Please,” she whispered.
His mouth slid over hers and he forced his tongue past her pursed lips. Sage shuddered, a sob escaping her.
Artie reeled back, eyes wide and crazy, and his lips in a scowl. “Why do you do this to me?” He shook her, harder this time, the metal railing creaking from the pressure, and Sage’s mind conjured images of the barrier giving way and her body crashing to the cement sidewalk below.
“Artie, stop. Please!”
The door flew open, and Sage glanced to the side, half-relieved to see her brother in the doorway. When she registered the confused, terrified look on his face, however, that relief quickly faded. How many more people would suffer because of her affair?
“Jimmy”—she paused, clearing her throat, trying to find the strength to speak evenly—“Jimmy, honey, please go back inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Yeah, Jimmy, listen to your sister.”
Jimmy’s gaze darted quickly between Sage and Artie, then his lips formed a frown, and his eyes narrowed. “Get your hands off my Sagey!”
“Jimmy,” Artie began, not taking his gaze off Sage, “this doesn’t concern you. Be a good little boy and go back inside.”
Jimmy grabbed Artie, yanking him off of Sage, then pushed him to the other side of the quaint balcony. “I’m not a little boy and you can’t touch my sister like that!”
Sage quickly ducked behind Jimmy, stepping back into the house as she fished her cellphone from her pocket. “Jimmy, come inside. Artie, get the hell away from us. I’m calling the cops.”
Artie sneered, barking out an abrupt laugh. “Fine. Call them. I’ll tell them you raped me before I turned eighteen.”
Sage gasped. “I didn’t….”
Artie’s lips curled up on a smirk. “They don’t know that.”
She shook her head, hands trembling. “Please just go.”
Jimmy backed up without looking away from Artie, pushing Sage further into their apartment. “You’re a bad man, Artie. I don’t like you anymore.”
He shut the door to amused laughter, and Sage quickly locked the door and slammed the deadbolt into place.
Sliding down to the floor, she curled up into a ball and hugged her knees, letting the tears finally fall freely.
Jimmy squatted beside her, then patted the top of her head. “Sagey? Are you okay? Why did Artie want to hurt you?”
She looked up at her big brother through tear-filled eyes, and summoned her resolve. “We have to move.”
“But this is my home!”
Sage cringed from the volume of Jimmy’s voice, something that had risen with his anger since Artie had left a little under an hour ago.
“I know it is,” she whispered, trying to remain calm and gentle during this chaotic time of stress. “But we’ll make a new home, Jimmy, just you and me. Remember that song you love? Remember? It says how home is wherever I’m with—”
“No! Home is here!” He threw a stuffed elephant across the living room. Sage followed the voyage with her eyes, watching with restrained emotion as the toy crashed to the floor in front of the breakfast bar of their tiny kitchen. That’s how she felt, plummeting and out of control. And that’s why they had to leave. Nothing good had come from returning to her hometown.
“Jimmy, please listen to me. I don’t know what else to do, honey. I want to be with you, want us to be together forever, but…I can’t do that here, Jimmy.”
“Why not?” He turned to her, stopping his frantic pacing just long enough for Sage to see how red his face had become, how wet his eyes were.
She sighed, closing her eyes for a few long seconds before continuing. “I need a good job so I can take care of us. I have to have a good income so I can stay with you. I don’t have a job here, Jimmy.”
“That’s your fault!” He resumed pacing,
his arms waving wildly at his sides. “You left school! You left Tig! You made Artie mad at you! Your fault!”
Sage drew in a long, deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm when all she wanted to do was curl up into her big brother’s lap and have a good cry. Sometimes she envied those relationships that other people had with their siblings. Sometimes she wanted to be cared for.
Sometimes she was just tired. Tired of being strong. Tired of keeping it together. Tired.
“I didn’t want to leave Lorimar, Jimmy, but I didn’t have a choice. I had to leave. Now I have to find a job somewhere else, and this one in Albuquerque looks really good. We’ll live in a house, Jimmy, a real house. Not an apartment, or a care facility, but a real honest to goodness house. Isn’t that what you want?”
Jimmy whipped around, facing his little sister once more. “No, Sagey. I want to stay here. With my elephants. And Ellie. And Tiggs. I want to stay home. You go.”
Sage’s eyes widened. “You’d….” she could barely get the words out. “You’d have to go back to the facility, Jimmy. You wouldn’t get to stay here, in this apartment…without me.”
“I don’t care.” He crossed his arms and jutted his chin out. “Your fault.”
Sage stood, then walked to retrieve Jimmy’s stuffed elephant from the floor. When she spoke, her voice was but a whisper. “Remember when I got this for you? It was our first time going to the zoo. My foster mom felt sorry for me that day, after her husband had…well, that doesn’t matter. She agreed to pick you up and take us, remember?”
Jimmy didn’t say anything, though his gaze followed Sage’s every movement as she walked the perimeter of the small living room, stopping at each elephant displayed on their walls and shelves.
“And this one? This one I sent to you after my first day of nursing school. Remember?” She moved to a picture on the wall of an elephant in scuba gear, grazing her fingertips over the black felt pieces of the poster. “And this one? You and I picked this out at that crazy carnival that year after mom and dad died. You swore you didn’t care that it needed a black light to really glow, and then we got back to the facility and you made Nurse Hodges convince the head of staff to buy you one.” Sage ran her fingers along the length of the black light. “Every one of these is a memory, Jimmy. Every one of these is you and me. Because it’s always been you and me. I don’t want that to change now.”
“But this is my home.” Jimmy sat down on the couch with a loud thump.
Sage sat beside him, taking his hands in hers. “I know, big bro. It’s my home, too. But it’s always been my home because you were here. If you’re with me wherever I go, then I can find my home anywhere.”
“What about Ellie?”
“She can come visit us, and you can always call her, and you can Skype, or we can FaceTime with her. She’s not going to be that far from us, Jimmy; Albuquerque is only a few hours away.”
Jimmy sighed. “And Tig?”
Sage stared down at their clasped hands in her lap, focusing on his knuckles as she ran her thumb over them. “Brandon and I…. well, that’s over, Jimmy. I have to move on, and you should, too, okay?”
Jimmy’s eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded. “Okay, Sagey.”
Rosie’s hand rested on his thigh, a familiar gesture, something she often did while they watched television after dinner. He looked down at her fingers, noting the freshly painted nails. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to the nail salon. Had she done this because he was coming over, or because he’d left?
He reached down, sliding his hand beneath hers and wrapping her fingers up in his. She tensed, then turned to him, the comedy they watched momentarily forgotten.
“What are you doing, Tig?”
He gazed into those big brown eyes, a million apologies on the tip of his tongue.
She leaned closer, closer, closing the distance between them. Something tugged at the back of his mind, something warned him that this was wrong, inappropriate, but he ignored the thought. What could be so bad about one last fling with the woman he’d spent nearly his entire life with? And damn, the way she looked in that long white dress, the top so low he’d wondered repeatedly how her small breasts hadn’t yet been freed.
“Tig,” she whispered. He heard a plea in that word, but whether she wanted him to stop this or continue, he didn’t know. She licked her lips and he decided for the both of them. One more fling for old time’s sake.
He slid his hand up her arm, cupping her cheek, then closed the final few inches between them and captured her mouth with his own. He kissed her hard, unforgiving, searching for the spark he so longed to feel, the spark she never had been able to ignite in him. She wouldn’t be able to now, but still he kissed her.
Knowing how small and tight her body was, he could resist no longer, and used his free hand to slide the strapless shirt from her arms, exposing her pert breasts. He brushed his thumb over first one nipple, then the other, coaxing them to life. Her chest rose and fell as he fondled her breasts, and she whimpered into his mouth, a familiar sound.
He broke the kiss, then scooped her up, carrying her down the long hallway to what was once their shared bedroom. He placed her on the bed, then slowly slid the full skirt up to her hips. When his hands reached up to caress her inner thighs, she stiffened.
And he remembered.
She always froze when he touched her. Maybe not at first, but when it came time for making love, she froze, and he always felt like he had to convince her, body and mind, to have sex with him.
“I have to tell you something,” she said, scooting up to a sitting position and fixing her skirt back down around her.
Tig’s dick strained against his pants, but he’d sobered up enough in the last few seconds to realize he’d just been saved from a horrible mistake. He adjusted his crotch, trying to ignore the throbbing, and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Rosie.
“Okay. What?”
“I don’t know how to say this, but I think I’ve had enough wine….”
Tig waited for the blow he knew was headed his way. Had she cheated on him?
Did it matter?
“You’re not the reason we never had babies.” The words flew from her lips on a whoosh, escaping their prison like she’d held them there against their will.
Tig stiffened, his body going rigid, cold. “What?”
“Please don’t be mad, Tig, I didn’t know how to tell you.”
He stood, slowly and deliberately turning to face her. “What?” He repeated, the single syllable dripping with rage, disgust, years of loathing rushing back to the surface.
“I can’t have babies.”
Tig closed his eyes. He wanted to believe he wasn’t actually hearing this right now.
“It was a riding accident. When I was twelve. Before I even moved here and met you. I didn’t know how…didn’t know what to say, and then, one day we were getting married, and I couldn’t tell you then—”
“The fuck you couldn’t! That’s exactly when you should have told me! How could you? How could you go all these years, letting me believe I failed you? You’ve blamed me, Rosie. I’ve carried this blame, this self-loathing around for years. Years. How…how could you let me believe I couldn’t give you the one thing a man is supposed to give his wife?”
Tig’s face burned, and he knew he probably looked homicidal, but he didn’t care. He felt homicidal. His hand throbbed and he fought the primal urge to punch something.
Rosie jumped from the bed, her fear and sadness, the guilt of her admission, fading away as anger slid over her features. Her dark eyes sparkled as she approached him at the end of the bed.
“Oh hell no. Don’t you sit here and yell at me about what a man should or should not give his wife. You should have loved me, Tig, and you never did. Always too busy holding onto the memory of that whore you fucked all through high school! I’m glad I never had your baby, Brandon Tiggs! I would hate that little bastard as much as I hate you!”
&
nbsp; She slapped him then, and he let her. The pain reverberated through his face, needles shooting through his cheek, as her words, her betrayal, everything sank in. He looked down at her, torn between strangling that slender little neck of hers and leaving this house, this prison, forever.
He inhaled a deep breath, then turned to do the latter.
“Yeah, walk away like the pathetic coward you are.”
“Fuck you, Rosie.”
Tig arrived at the swimming pool on autopilot, his mind racing.
He vaguely acknowledged stripping down to his boxers, barely registered the bite of the cool night air.
He’d never forgiven himself for not being able to father a child. He knew it wasn’t anything he could help, knew it wasn’t anything he’d done. But he’d always felt like….like maybe it was his own desire not to bear children with Rosie that kept him from doing so. Like, somehow, subconsciously, his true feelings for her were the reason for their infertility.
He grimaced at the thought, then dove into the pool.
As the water engulfed him, swallowed him, he prayed that this time, the cool liquid would wash it all away. Prayed that this time, swimming would be the therapy he needed. The cure to what ailed him.
Tig swam laps until he couldn’t swim any longer. He pounded the surface with each stroke, kicking his legs behind him like a well-oiled machine, pushing his damaged left leg as though he couldn’t feel the ache, couldn’t feel the strain that would make him pay for this tomorrow. He beat at that water like he’d never been hit by that drunk driver.
Like he didn’t have a scotch headache they wrote hangover songs about.
And like, once again, his life wasn’t a shattered mess of wasted dreams and pathetic lies.
Days later—how long exactly, Tig didn’t know—he jumped from his spot on the bleachers, surprised to see Jimmy Shepard standing on the deserted pool deck so early on a Saturday morning. He leaned to the side, looking past him for Sage, but there was no one else around.
He wondered if the distance between them took such a toll on her, or if she was fine without him.
Chlorine and Chaos Page 17