by Megan Green
I choke out a sob, the plan to make it through the evening without tears dissolving before it ever really began. Because, despite the facts that it is too soon and he is probably crazy, everything he just put into words…I feel for him, too. Every single thing.
But it isn’t fair of me to tell him that yet. It isn’t fair of me to accept his words and his love when there is still so much hanging between us.
I pull my hands from his, dropping my eyes to the floor at my feet. “Ian, I need to tell you something.”
He lets out a broken laugh. “Well, that’s not what I was hoping to hear after I said all that. But, okay, tell me.”
I bite my lip, trying to decide on how to start. Should I come right out and say it? Or ease him into it? Maybe tell him how sorry I am and how I wish every day that I could do it over again?
But he already knows that. That night in front of the fireplace, I told him how familiar I was with what he was feeling. And, surely, if he loves me like he says he does, then he already knows how sorry I am for what I did. He might not know the details, but I know that my sorrow and remorse permeate my every movement and decision. If he thinks he knows me well enough to love me, then he must see that, too.
Fuck it, I think.
And I spill all my deepest, darkest secrets.
“A year and a half ago, I almost killed a mother and her daughter. They were on their way home from her dance recital. I crossed the centerline and hit them head-on. I was speeding—more than twenty miles per hour over the limit. And my blood alcohol level was more than twice the legal limit.”
Ian’s mouth falls open, his eyes instantly saddening as he looks at me. His gaze travels over my face before settling on a spot over my shoulder. I shrink back.
He can’t even look at me.
Without returning his eyes to my face, he tells me to go on.
“I had known my drinking was getting a little out of control. My friends had been giving me subtle hints for months that maybe I was taking things a bit too far. But I didn’t care. I knew I was fine. I could stop whenever I wanted. I just didn’t want to.
“That night at the bar, I cut myself off after a few drinks. I knew I had to drive home, and I wanted to be responsible. I thought I was fine. I didn’t even feel buzzed. I slid behind the wheel of that car, turned the ignition, and told myself, if I drove slow enough, I’d be fine.”
Ian’s throat bobs, his expression blank as he listens to me recount the worst night of my life. It hurts, seeing him so completely…vacant.
I expected him to get angry. Or tell me how disappointed he was in me. Ask me how I could possibly keep something like this from him. Something. But, instead, all I’m met with is stony silence.
“The next thing I knew, I was coming to in a hospital bed. I was all alone with no recollection of how I’d ended up there. Until I sat up and felt the blinding pain stabbing through my head. Then, I remembered. I remembered getting in the car. And I remembered the lights—the bright shock of white as my attention turned from my phone to the car careening toward me.”
“They’re okay?” His voice is gravelly.
I nod. “They’re okay. But okay is a far cry from good. The little girl’s femoral artery in her left leg was damaged on impact. It was either amputate or risk death while they tried to repair it. So, of course, her parents chose the former option.”
Ian’s an athlete, and I can see the pain at the thought of losing a limb roll through him. I can’t imagine losing a part of my body. But losing one when it has such a large bearing on who you are…
“The little girl still has big dreams of becoming a professional dancer though. She’s only seven, but she’s already been fit with a prosthetic. And she practices nearly every day. Despite the fact that I nearly took her life, she hasn’t let me take her dream.”
“You talk to them?” he asks, his tone laced with shock.
I shake my head. “No. I haven’t been able to face them in person. I follow her Facebook page. After the accident, they set up an account, so people could get updates on her progress. They post pictures of her in her little dance costumes. She’s adorable.”
Ian nods. “And the mother?”
“She was pretty banged up but nothing serious. Broken collarbone and a bunch of stitches. I think her damage is more of the emotional variety.”
He’s quiet for a little longer, mulling over the story I told him. I sit next to him, watching as he debates his next move, waiting for him to kick me out.
So, I’m surprised when he finally lifts his eyes to mine. There’s a hint of something in them that I can’t quite read. Betrayal maybe? Anger? Whatever it is, I’m not sure. But, beyond that, there’s a hell of a lot of questioning. And, dare I say, concern.
“Why did you get in the car, Lexi? What led up to that night?”
I cringe. Thinking back on what drove me to such a dark place seems so ridiculous in the grand scheme of things. Businesses fail every day…yet when mine did, I couldn’t take it.
“Right after I graduated from college, I used the little bit of money I had left from my parents’ inheritance to open a small store. A craft store of sorts. We specialized in wood crafts, but we also refinished furniture, sold antiques…I loved bringing new life to old items. For as long as I could remember, I’d always been creating. So, as soon as I had my business degree, I took every penny I had and invested it in my business.
“And it was good for a while. Business wasn’t exactly booming, but it was steady. I was able to pay my two employees a decent wage and still had enough to pay my bills and the needs of the shop every month. But, unfortunately, the novelty began to wear off, and people stopped coming. I set up craft nights, put on boutiques, did everything I could to get people in the door. But none of it worked. Just before the second anniversary of our grand opening, I filed for bankruptcy. We were finished. I was finished. And it broke my heart.”
Ian’s eyes soften, and the heat from his hand as it rests over the top of mine on the couch sends shivers up my spine. I didn’t realize how worried I had been that I would never know his touch again until that moment.
“Needless to say, I didn’t handle it very well,” I continue. “I started drinking to numb myself from the sting of my failure. A drink or two a night turned into three or four. One night at the bar turned into every night. And, before I knew it, I was sliding down the slippery slope of addiction. Only I was too blind to see it.”
Ian rubs his thumb against the back of my hand, the gesture almost as comforting as an actual embrace, considering, two minutes ago, I was certain he’d want me out of his life for good.
“Instead of getting the help I needed, I denied that anything was wrong. Ella was here, more than a thousand miles away, and even she could tell something was seriously off with me. My friends tried to warn me. At first, they indulged with me. They would take me out, buying me drink after drink, telling me I deserved it after all I had done for my failing business. But the pity party only lasted so long. After a few weeks, it wasn’t fun anymore. Not for them. But it was the only way I could get through the day without feeling like absolute scum.”
I think back on those days, about how depressed I was. How I’d go days without leaving my apartment. And, when I did, it was only to go out drinking. There were times when I couldn’t even drag myself out of bed. But I’d never been the type to succumb to addiction or temptation before. I’d always been so strong. So hardworking. I told myself it was a rough patch. Just a phase I was going through. I would come out of it soon enough. What was the harm in having a little fun? Lord knows, I hadn’t had enough of it in college. I’d worked my ass off to keep my scholarship and graduate early. I was simply making up for lost time.
It all sounds so stupid now. How could I not see how far off the deep end I’d gone? Those first few weeks in rehab were, without a doubt, the worst of my life. I was so young when my parents had died, I didn’t really remember the pain of their death. But coming off a yearlo
ng bender?
There were days when I was certain death would be preferable.
I look back at Ian, ashamed of myself. “I know you’re probably thinking how ridiculous that sounds. I lost a business. And, as a result of my poor decisions, a little girl lost her leg. Her mother lost her easygoing, carefree attitude. Everything in their lives is so much harder than it was before they turned down that road. Lily should be dancing like a normal little girl, having fun and forming lifelong friendships. Not having to learn how to move again.”
“Lily? That’s her name.”
I nod. “Lily James.”
He pulls out his phone, his fingers moving around the screen for a few moments until a smile spreads across his face. He holds the phone out to me, showing me what’s on the screen.
It’s a picture of Lily, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, her lips painted bright red, and the apples of her cheeks a rosy pink. She’s in a purple dance costume, the sun glinting off the sequins in the photo. Her prosthetic leg is on full display as she cocks her hip out to the side, hands on her hips, mouth pursed into a sassy smirk.
She looks…happy.
The sight of the little girl in the photo causes my breath to catch. I reach out, taking the phone in my hand and bring it closer. I study every detail of her face, trying to determine if the happiness shining in her eyes is real or forced.
But, no matter how hard I scrutinize the picture, I can’t find a hint of deception. The light in her eyes is too bright to be faked for the sake of a photo.
Ian gives me a moment, but his eyes bore into me as I study the picture. When I finally look up and hand his phone back, he gives me a timid smile, the corners pulling up ever so slightly.
“She looks like a pretty happy little girl,” he observes.
I nod. “She’s adorable.”
“Do you think she’s sitting at home right now, cursing the very ground you walk on?”
I sputter out a laugh. “Lily? You think that sweet little girl has a malicious bone in her body?”
He looks back down at the photo. “No, you’re probably right. She’s way too damn cute to be a bitch.”
I laugh again. He did not just insinuate a seven-year-old could be a bitch, did he?
“But, Lexi, she’s moving on with her life. She’s putting the past behind her, not letting what happened stand in the way of what she wants most in the world. So, why can’t you?”
His words cause me to come up short, my response jamming in my throat.
“Be-because I…she didn’t…it was me…”
His hand rests on mine, and while I’m stumbling over my words, he takes the opportunity to turn his palm over and take my hand in his. “You made a mistake. A horrible mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to live your life. You’ve paid the price…” He trails off, quirking an eyebrow up at me in question.
I nod. “Since there were no fatalities and it was my first offense, I got off easy. Too easy if you ask me. Six months probation—following rehab, of course. I was ordered into a program, though after the accident, I would’ve gone voluntarily.”
Ian smiles. “See? You’ve done your time. You might think you got off easy, but I can assure you, Lexi, you didn’t. I’m pretty sure you’ve punished yourself far more than the court ever could have.”
“You don’t get it though. Because of me, that poor girl will never walk normally again.”
Ian scrolls through his phone another second before turning and showing me a video of Lily doing a pirouette. Her left leg—the prosthetic—gracefully cuts through the air as she spins on her right.
I’ve seen the video dozens of times, but it still brings a tear to my eye.
“You see this? She might never be normal again. But, like I said before, who wants to be normal when you can be extraordinary? She won’t ‘walk normally’ again,” he says, putting air quotes around the words, “but you can be damn sure she’s going to dance phenomenally for the rest of her life.”
“But—”
He presses his finger against my lips, cutting off my words. “No. It’s time for you to move on, Lexi. I’m not saying you should pretend it never happened. You’ll never forget the way that night changed you. It’s ingrained in you. So, don’t forget. But you need to forgive. You need to forgive yourself.”
I have to smile at his words. “Ella has been telling me that for months. Long before I moved out here.”
Ian reaches out and brushes a single tear from my cheek. “I knew she was a smart girl.”
“You’re not mad?” I ask when my eyes meet his again.
“Mad? No. Upset you didn’t think you could tell me before now? A little. But, Lexi, none of what you told me changes a single thing about what I said to you earlier. I loved you then. And I love you even more now, knowing what you went through and coming out stronger for it.”
I shoot him a puzzled look. “Stronger? Are you crazy? I’m a mess.”
He chuckles. “Okay, you are sort of a mess sometimes. But you’ve been through hell. Despite your flippancy now at losing your business, I know how much that must’ve hurt. It’s not stupid. It’s not silly to mourn the loss of something so near and dear to your heart. You could have chosen a better way, yes. But you’ve learned from your mistakes. You’re here, building a new life for yourself. Do you know how many people would’ve shut down after going through what you did?”
“Well, I sort of did. And I was a total bitch to you for weeks, trying to keep you at arm’s length.”
He smiles again. “Don’t I know it? But that wasn’t you shutting down. That was you trying to protect yourself. You’ve been hurt. Maybe not by love. Maybe not even by another person. Life hurt you big time. She knocked you down and kicked you while you were in the dirt. It takes time to come back from something like that. But you’re getting there,” he adds with a wink.
“But what if people find out? What would they say if they found out you were with a drunk who almost killed two people?”
He shrugs. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But know this, Lexi. Nothing is more important to me than you. Nothing. Not baseball, not money, not fame. The moment you walked into my life, I was a goner. You’re it for me.”
A flutter moves through my entire body, stopping when it reaches my chest and staying there.
I lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You must be crazy. But I’m glad you are. Because I love you, too.”
Chapter 21
Tag
If this keeps up, we might not get out of here again before spring,” Lexi observes, watching the fat white flakes fall outside the living room window.
Another day, another snowstorm. It’s a good thing I have a gorgeous woman here to keep me occupied; otherwise, I might have started developing cabin fever. I’ve never been one to enjoy sitting still, my childhood consisting of constant baseball practice and my adult life not turning out much different. But, for some reason, with Lexi sitting next to me, hanging out on the couch while bingeing shit TV shows doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
I turn and look out the window, twisting my head to see over the top of hers. She’s tucked into the crook of my arm, her legs curled up on the couch beneath her. Until she spoke, I thought her attention had been solely on the two brothers fighting demons on TV in front of us. But, apparently, the impending ice age is more worrisome than the fate of Sam and Dean Winchester.
“That’s fine with me,” I respond, tugging her in a little tighter. “Though Coach might be pissed if I’m late to spring training.”
“When is that?” she asks, her attention swinging back around to me.
“Mid-February.”
“February?” she exclaims. “That’s hardly spring.”
“It is down in Arizona. It’s usually in the seventies. Perfect baseball weather.”
She purses her lips as she thinks. “So, we have only a few more months until it’s back to reality?”
I press a kiss to the top
of her head, rubbing her arm to try to soothe away her worries. “As far as I’m concerned, this is my reality. I will have to go back to Seattle. But that doesn’t make this any less real.”
She smiles, letting out a content sigh. Seemingly satisfied with my answer, she scoots down the couch, stretching out her legs and laying her head in my lap.
She’s out within minutes, her tiny snores absolutely adorable in the quiet room. I grab the remote and turn off the TV, not wanting to risk a loud noise from the show waking her.
I kept her awake all night last night, determined to prove to her that, even after our talk, she still meant the world to me. I spent hours worshipping her body, kissing and licking every square inch until she begged me to end the torture. And then I made sure she came so many times, there wasn’t a single orgasm left in her spent body. It was glorious.
But, looking down at her now as she sleeps, I can’t deny that it’s a lot harder to stay up all night, having sex, than it was even five years ago. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I seem to be getting old.
Age. The athlete’s worst enemy.
Lucky for me, baseball is a lower-impact sport, so provided I don’t blow out my knee or my arm, I should still have another ten good years left in me. Maybe even fifteen, if I’m lucky.
I think back to my and Lexi’s conversation last night and her worry over what her past could mean for my career. I wasn’t surprised by the DUI. I’d figured as much after finding out she didn’t drink and no longer drove. But I hadn’t expected the part about the accident. Hearing the pain in her voice as she spoke about the woman and child she’d hurt was devastating. But not as much as it had been for her. I couldn’t bring myself to be concerned about me after hearing how much it hurt her talking about the accident. And then seeing that little girl…