by Megan Green
But, instead, he placed his hand over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think that’s a great idea, Nic. You’ve always been so great with people. You would make an excellent nurse. And, if you decide you still want to be a doctor, I have no doubt that you can do that, too. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. You can do anything you set your mind to.”
I wanted to tell him that smart women don’t get themselves into my situation. They don’t allow a man to beat the hell out of them regularly for over ten years.
But the look on Joey’s hopeful face stifled my words.
Despite my past mistakes, despite my prior weakness, I want to set a good example for my son. I will show him that, no matter what path life takes you on, you can always come back. My parents always told me I could be anything I wanted to be. It’s time I started living that.
Snapping myself from my thoughts, I turn my attention back out the window just in time to see Joey grab Cade from behind before swinging him up and throwing him over his shoulder. Cade laughs as he tries to squirm free, his fists landing playful blows on Joey’s back. Joey doesn’t seem fazed in the least, throwing his head back in laughter as he runs across the grass before falling to his knees in the shade under a large tree. He lifts Cade off his shoulder, and the two of them fall onto their backs, dissolving into a fit of laughter.
After a few moments, Cade turns toward Joey, propping his head up on his hand and watching him. I can see his lips moving, but I’m too far away to make out what he’s saying. The smile falls from Joey’s face—not as if what Cade is saying saddens him, but as if he wants to show Cade that he’s giving him his full attention. I love that he treats my son like he’s an actual person, not just a little kid he has to humor. The two of them goof off together so easily that, sometimes, it takes me a minute to remember which one is actually the adult. But whenever Cade asks if he can talk to him, Joey stops whatever he’s doing and listens.
Cade has never had that before. He’s never had a positive male role model in his life. And, though this is just how Joey is—he always gives everyone a hundred and ten percent of himself—it means more to me than he could ever know. Even though he probably can’t see it, he’s already had such a positive effect on Cade, and that gives me so much hope. Hope that Cade will be okay. Hope that I didn’t cause too much damage to his young psyche by forcing him to live in that situation for the first seven years of his life. Watching Cade with Joey gives me hope that he’ll grow up to be the man I always hoped he would be. The kind of man who treats a woman right. Who works hard and loves his family. Who understands the important things in life aren’t actually things but people, moments, and making memories.
The kind of man that Joey is.
I turn from the window, leaving Joey and Cade to finish up their conversation in private without the intrusion of my prying eyes. I sit on the sofa Joey found for us, curling my legs under me. Grabbing the empty notebook I placed on the coffee table earlier, I settle in, grateful for the few minutes of silence.
I had this idea the other night, and though it’s probably silly and stupid, I couldn’t stop thinking that it might be sort of therapeutic for me. And, Lord knows, I can use all the help I can get with sorting my thoughts and feelings.
Uncapping the cheap pen I swiped from Mario this afternoon, I open to the first blank page. And I write.
Dear James,
Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to write this letter? A letter telling you that I’m leaving and I will never be back? I can’t even tell you because it’s something I’ve thought about every single day for as long as I can remember. On the really bad days, it was ALL I could think about. Taking Cade and running as fast and as far as I could. I’d sit and daydream about it—how it would feel to finally be free of you.
But I couldn’t do it. Do you want to know why?
You took every ounce of courage and strength I’d had, and you crushed it into the ground. You didn’t break it. You didn’t just destroy it. You completely pulverized every single thing about myself I’d ever liked. Everything I’d thought was good about me was suddenly gone.
And I fucking let you.
I wish I had been stronger in the beginning. I wish I had seen you for what you truly were in those early days, days where the worst thing you had done was shove me against the wall. But I was a frightened little girl. And I loved you. Despite everything that’s happened since, I’ll never be able to deny that, on our wedding day, I LOVED you. So, I made excuses. I believed you when you said you’d changed.
But people can’t change if they don’t want to. And, James, you’ve never wanted to. You love yourself exactly the way you are. It’s truly frightening when I think about it. You honestly don’t seem to realize how damaged you are.
Our last day together, the day you came home with flowers and a mouthful of promises, I was ready to stay. I was ready to give you yet another chance even though I knew you’d never stop. But, when you pulled me to you, whispering your lies in my ear, I saw the most important thing I’d ever laid eyes on. The face of my son.
And it wasn’t the face a seven-year-old boy should have. It wasn’t the face a child should wear when watching his parents embrace. My poor boy didn’t look scared. He didn’t look angry. He looked…dejected.
And it broke my fucking heart.
I’d let him see you treat me this way. I’d let him watch his daddy hurt his mommy over and over again. Instead of being strong and teaching him to stand up for himself, I’d taught him to hide. To run next door and wait for it to be over. And though I’d never said the words, I was teaching him that what you were doing was okay.
That will be my biggest regret until my dying day. Knowing that I let my son think, even for a moment, that it was okay for a man to hurt a woman. That the idea of stability, no matter how hostile, was more important than my happiness. That I wasn’t worth more than that.
Because, damn it, James, I am worth more than that.
More than how you’ve treated me. More than what you think of me. I could’ve been a good wife to you, had you let me. And, for years, I let that guilt eat at me, thinking that, if I could just be what you needed, then you’d stop.
But the problem isn’t with me, James. It’s you.
It’s taken me years to realize that. It’s taken running and hiding in order to escape you. It’s taken reuniting with an old friend to discover how much I truly deserve. And do you know what I deserve, James?
Happiness.
Something so simple, yet for the past twelve years, it’s been impossible to obtain. But this friend of mine, in just a few short weeks, has been able to remind me of what that feels like. Do you know how long it’d been since I truly smiled before he came back into my life? How long it had been since I laughed? Since I’d sat and watched a comedy with my arms around my son and just let myself be lost in the moment, not having to worry about what might be lingering over my shoulder?
It feels good, James.
So. Fucking. Good.
This man has shown me more love and respect in a few short months than you did during our entire marriage. He’s reminded me of how wonderful life and a relationship can be. How good just being held by someone at the end of the day can feel.
And, between you and me, James…I love him so much more than I could have ever loved you.
He was my first love. And, with any luck, he’ll be my last. It’s early still, but he makes me feel things I long ago thought were destroyed.
And, no matter how much I thought I once loved you, it’s nothing compared to what I feel for him. I trust him. I know that, no matter what happens between us, he will never hurt me. He’s proven this time and time again over these past few weeks. I hurt him. More than a decade ago, I destroyed his heart. Yet here he is, standing by my side throughout it all.
He knows I could still hurt him. I’ve done it once before. But he trusts me as well.
That’s what love is, James. It isn’t about what the other p
erson can give you. It’s about what you can give to them. What you can give to each other. It’s giving yourself completely to that person, knowing they hold your heart and can destroy you. But, if you truly love someone, truly care about that person more than your own heart, then you know that they won’t. You give them the power to destroy you with a single word. But you trust them not to.
That is what love is, James.
I felt it once before. And I felt it the moment I held Cade in my arms. But I never felt it with you. Even before we were married, I guarded parts of myself from you, never completely trusting my heart with you.
And, now, I know why.
I’d never gotten it back from him.
He’s held on to that part of me since we were seven-years-old. And he’ll hold on to it until we’re eighty.
Once you give your heart away, you never get it back.
So, even though it’s early and even though we still have a long way to go before we get to the point where I’m ready to tell him these things, I can safely say he will hold that part of me until the day I die.
And, if things don’t work out between us, that’s okay. He’s helped me find my courage and strength again. He took those shattered pieces you’d left behind, and he helped me build them back into something I can be proud of.
I deserve more.
Nichole
I close the notebook with a snap, setting it on the couch beside me as I think about what I just wrote. I was so confused about my feelings for Joey since he came back into my life. And, with just a few pages of handwritten words in a notebook, I was able to clarify what’d been plaguing me these past few weeks.
I am in love with Joey Roberts.
Again.
Today just might be the longest day in fucking history.
In just three hours, I’ll be on my way to Amber’s house to pick up my new buddy. When Nichole’s friend had called the other day to tell us the dogs were ready, I’d half expected to get a phone call from Emma saying she heard my whoop of delight clear over in North Carolina.
To say I’m excited is an understatement.
I’m fucking ecstatic. I’m like a kid on Christmas Eve, unable to sit still for longer than ten seconds in anticipation of Santa coming. Except my Santa happens to be in the shape of a thirty-pound Great Dane puppy.
But thinking about a kid on Christmas, of course, brings my thoughts around to Cade, and I wonder if he’s ever gotten to experience the magic of it. If he ever waited up, trying to catch a glimpse of the red-suited fat man before falling asleep. If he was ever up before the sun because he just couldn’t wait any longer to see what had been left under the tree. Based on how excited he was about a few fireworks, I’d say that’s a big, fat no.
My mood shifts momentarily when I think of all that Cade has missed out on. But I quickly squash down those sour thoughts. Despite what he might have experienced in the past, I know he’ll never have to go through that again.
And I’m going to make sure that kid has the best damn Christmas ever this year.
Guaranteed.
I pull my cruiser into the pet store parking lot, already making a list of everything I’m going to do for Cade come December. Gingerbread houses, those god-awful stop-animation movies you can’t help but love, lying under the Christmas tree and staring up at the lights—we’re going to do it all.
With my mind made up, I file that all away for later as I climb from the driver’s seat and enter the store. I’m way too excited to actually eat, so instead, I decided I’d use my lunch break today to pick up a few last-minute things for my new pup.
Twenty minutes later, with a cart full of toys, treats, and training pads—because, God knows, if there’s one thing puppies know how to do, it’s how to piss all over everything—I’m stopped in the back of the store, staring at all the different puppy food, weighing the pros and cons of each. I grab a bag from the shelf, perusing the label on the side. This one is all natural and organic. But the one over here has extra vitamins and is made with real chicken, I think, turning another bag on the shelf so I can read the details. Just as I’m about to say, Fuck it, and buy them both, letting the little guy decide which one he likes best, a throat clears behind me.
I absently push my cart out of the way, making room for the person to slide by. But I don’t take my attention from the bags before me. After a few more moments, the throat clears again.
I glance over my shoulder, wondering what the hell this guy’s problem is. I wave my hand for him to pass as I turn my head back around, but something causes me to stop.
I’ve seen this man before.
My realization causes me to do a double take, and this time, I really look at the man behind me.
Dark hair. Narrowed green eyes. Lips turned up in the corners in a smug grin.
Oh, yeah, I know this motherfucker.
James.
Squaring my shoulders, I set the bag back on the shelf and turn to face him. “Can I help you?”
If possible, his self-righteous smile curls even more, giving him an almost sinister look. Seriously, what did Nichole ever see in this guy? He’s a grade A asshole.
“Actually…” he says, his tone coming across bored and arrogant, as if he didn’t seek me out. He almost seems offended that I’m actually speaking to him. “I’m here to do you a favor.”
I scoff. “Is that so?”
James only nods.
“And what might that be?” I ask, my irritation growing with every word, my tone clipped.
“I’m here to tell you to stay away from Nichole. She’s…unavailable.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the labels before me. Maybe I’ll get this one. It says it’s guaranteed to suit even the pickiest of eaters.
James doesn’t take kindly to my dismissal, stepping in closer, his voice dropping an octave, so as not to be overheard. “Believe me, you don’t want to get involved in this. Nichole is my wife. And you seem like a nice kid,” he adds, like I’m not almost the same fucking age he is. “But if you don’t back off, I will end you. You seem to enjoy your job on the police force. It’d be a shame if that had to end.”
My nostrils flare at his threat, and it takes everything in me not to grab him by the collar and shove him back against the wall, like I’m sure he’s done to Nichole at least a time or two. I’d sure as hell love to see how he likes a taste of his own medicine. But not only are we in public, I’m also in uniform. So, I need to keep this as civil as possible. Besides, I’d promised Nichole I wouldn’t do anything if I ran into him. She wouldn’t even let me help her file a restraining order against him, insisting the divorce papers were bad enough. If the fucker was served with a restraining order on top of those, she said she wasn’t sure what he’d do. And even though I’d promised to protect her, she still hadn’t wanted to take the chance.
I feel my eyes narrow and my nostrils flare as I attempt to hold back my anger. “Consider me warned. And consider me not giving a flying fuck. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I say, pushing past him with my cart, “I need to get back to work.”
He lets me pass but not before getting out a final sneer. “You don’t want to cross me, Joey Roberts. End it now. Before you both get hurt.”
My shoulders tense, but I don’t stop. Instead, I keep walking until I reach the register. Once I’ve checked out and loaded everything into the trunk of my cruiser, I slide behind the wheel.
James is nowhere in sight.
“Can we get this one, Joey? Please?” Cade smiles up at me from where he’s lying on the ground, an oversized black puppy sprawled on his chest, its little pink tongue darting out over and over again as it attempts to lick his face off.
Nichole is sitting in a lawn chair beside him, a tan puppy in her lap, playfully chewing on her finger as she pets it. “I think Joey needs to make up his own mind about which puppy he wants,” she says to Cade.
This reminds me that, while they might be here with me and we might spend every spare moment we h
ave together, we aren’t a family. We aren’t here to pick out the family dog. I am here to pick out my companion, the furry creature who will keep me company when Nichole no longer needs me.
I’m not lying when I say I’ve spent every free moment I’ve had with Nichole and Cade these past few weeks. If I’m not at work or sleeping, I’m with them, either over at their new place or having them over at mine. And, though there’s no place else I’d rather be, the last few weeks being some of the best I’ve had in as long as I can remember, Nichole likes to throw out frequent reminders that we are not a couple. Like right now, when Cade suggested we were getting a dog. I wouldn’t mind if the little guy considered this dog to be his own. But Nichole is adamant about reminding us both that this is temporary. She’s let down her guard enough to let me help. But she’s sure as hell not letting me get any wrong ideas about where this might be going.
It would hurt like hell under any other circumstance. But I’m willing to wait. I can be as patient as they come when it comes to getting something I want.
I want Nichole. And, if I give her enough time, I’m positive I can get her to return those feelings. She did once. And what we had wasn’t just some high school romance. It was real. That doesn’t just go away, no matter how much time has passed.
Nichole loved me once. And she’ll love me again.
I’m sure of it.
I walk over to her, a line of puppies trailing behind me. When I plop down on the ground next to Cade, I’m immediately engulfed in a swarm of wet tongues and tiny paws. I lean back, surrendering myself completely to their attack. God, how I’ve missed this. There’s nothing like the feel of a dog in your arms, licking your face, to instantly put you in a better mood. Maybe that was why I was always so damn happy in North Carolina. It was impossible to be unhappy when I was surrounded by half a dozen rambunctious puppies at all times.
Cade and I spend the next twenty minutes playing with each of the dogs, trying to decide which one should come home with me. I briefly consider telling Amber that I’ll take them all, not wanting to leave a single one of them behind. But then I think of my poor house and the shambles it’ll likely be in with just one puppy, let alone six.