by Anna Brooks
“I can’t. I have to get back to the hospital. Maybe next week.”
I curl up and fight the tears. He’s lying. He doesn’t have to go back to work. He’s going home, to his wife.
Present
Why did I move back here again? I turn up the heat in my car and grip the steering wheel with gloved hands. Stupid Midwest. It hasn’t stopped snowing for two days straight. Because I’m a procrastinator, and apparently a glutton for punishment, I’m out driving in this crap. I have zero groceries in my house, and Meara is coming over for her birthday tomorrow. Since she’s the only one who knows I’m back, I can’t go out to celebrate with her.
Not only do I need to get food, but I have to get her a present, too. I’m contemplating what to get her – either new body jewelry for one of her many piercings or shoes. I saw these ballet flats that had sparkly skulls on them the other day. She’d love those. Meara is into the whole rock chick look. She has every reason to be, seeing how Liam’s a drummer.
I press on the brake as I approach the oncoming stoplight, but my car has other plans. “Shit, shit, shit,” I chant, stomping harder. A horn is blaring, and I look to my left – a snowplow is headed directly at me. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing harder on the brake, as if it will help me stop, and wait for the inevitable. The intense sound deafens me before the impact. The airbag explodes in my face, and I’m jumbled around like somebody is shaking me in a snow globe. Ironic, considering it looks like one outside.
After what feels like an eternity, but is really less than a minute, my car stills, and I open my eyes enough to see through them. I push the now deflating airbag out of my face and look around. My front windshield is missing, and what was once the passenger side of my car is now entwined with a tree.
The scene is almost identical to what I saw when we came upon my sister’s accident. Except in her case, it was the driver’s side that meshed with the tree.
My mind finally breaks through the fog, and people are yelling, running toward me. “Are you okay? Can you move? Be careful!”
As I wiggle my toes and squeeze my hands, I answer, “Umm, yeah. I’m okay.” I try to open the door, but it won’t budge. “Here, let me help you. Be careful.” A man stands on the hood of my car and helps pull me through the now empty windshield frame.
I jump down and walk a few feet away, rejecting any attempts to help me further. I’m not intentionally acting like a bitch, but the memories have taken over, and I feel like I’m in a dream. Looking around, I see a lot of people running around and three cars crushed like mine. The plow truck appears to be intact, and the driver’s side door is open. Hopefully, he got out okay.
People keep talking to me, but I can’t focus right now. I cannot believe I walked away from that. Looking behind me, I expect to see drops of blood, but the only thing aside from footprints is pure white snow. I sit on the hill, wrap my arms around my knees, and pull my hood over my head, trying to keep warm. The snow slowly starts to pile up around me.
In the distance, sirens blare, and before long lights are flashing all around me. Paramedics ask if I want to be evaluated and try to move me to an ambulance. I shake my head, refusing. I’m sure there are others in need of medical attention. I’m able to give the police all of the information they need for the report. The blur of the paramedics and firefighters running around take up my peripheral vision as I continue staring at the pile of metal I walked away from.
I wonder if it happened that fast for her, if she felt any pain. If she screamed or knew she was going to die. They said she died on impact, but do they really know? Maybe she took a few agonizing breaths before her heart stopped or actually felt her bones snap.
“Charlotte.” That voice. Oh, God. I close my eyes and lower my head at the gravely sound that manages to both calm and excite me. I knew I’d see him eventually since I moved back home, but this is not how I planned things. I’m not ready to see him yet.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
I must have taken too long, because he puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. My eyes collide with his blue ones, and I suck in a breath at the man in front of me. His muscular frame looks even larger in his gear. Although I can’t see his black hair under his helmet, I would bet it’s still shaved close to his scalp. His strong jawline and long, dark lashes make him look like a model. If he were to smile at me, I would see the dimple on his left cheek. He’s not smiling, though. He’s looking at me with the same sad eyes I saw the first night I met him.
Without words, he puts his hands out for me. Surrendering, I put mine in his and he pulls me up, throwing an arm around my back to guide me. I don’t know where he’s taking me, but I follow him without question. I automatically lean in, resting my head on his strong shoulder.
He brings me to the back of an ambulance and wraps a blanket around me while rubbing my arms.
“Charlotte, you need to get looked at,” he tells me softly.
I nod, and a minute later, a very short, very kind, and very energetic lady starts examining me.
“Hey there, darlin’. What’s your name?”
Clearing my throat, I answer her, “Charlotte. Charlotte Kelly.”
“Well, that’s a very pretty name. I’m Fran, and I’m an EMT. I’m going to take a look at you, okay? Make sure you’re alright.” She continues talking while she looks in my eyes and hooks me up to a couple machines, but I’m not listening to what she’s saying.
Travis is holding my hand and rubbing small circles on my palm. The feeling unnerves me. One touch shouldn’t be this powerful; it shouldn’t make me feel like I’m seventeen years old again. I thought I’d been through too much to feel any kind of emotion through another’s touch, but apparently, Travis is an exception.
It’s been four years. Four years that I’ve always wondered about him… about us. I play the ‘what if’ game with Travis on almost a daily basis. And every time I do, the conclusion is the same; a relationship cannot be based on a lie. My thoughts are interrupted by Meara’s worried voice.
“Charlotte, holy shit! Are you okay?” Smiling a fake smile, I try to placate her. I really have no reason to smile right now. I should probably be dead. And on top of that, I saw the love of my life for the first time in four years.
“Yeah. A little dazed, but I’m okay.”
“Travis called me. My God, your car. I can’t believe you’re alive.” She throws her hand over her mouth and starts to shake her head. “I didn't mean it like that. I’m so sorry. Shit.”
“It’s okay, Meara.” I touch her arm, and she puts her hand over mine.
“No. It’s not. I can't believe I said that. I’m such an idiot. Is she really okay?” she asks, looking at Travis.
“Yeah. Fran says all her vitals are normal. I guess you can chalk it up to a miracle that she’s not injured. Looks like she has an angel or three looking after her.” He gives my hand a squeeze, and I fight back the tears that threaten. “I really have to get back to work, though. Are you good to take her home? She should have someone with her to make sure nothing happens. She refuses to go to the hospital.”
“Yeah. I’ll spend the night.”
“Great. I’ll check in tomorrow.” He lets go of my hand, gives Meara a hug, and leans down to whisper in her ear, but I hear every word that he says. “Keep an eye on her. She’s probably in shock, and like I said on the phone, this must have brought up memories of Caroline.”
They pull away from each other, and she gives him a tight smile before grabbing my hand. I avoid Travis’ stare and start to walk away, but am quickly pulled back. The front of my body slams against his. Instinctively, my hands fly up and land on his hard chest. He wraps his arms around me and puts his lips on my forehead. I shut my eyes and relish the sensation of being held by him again.
We pull away from each other, and I turn around, my hand grazing his as I leave. His fingertips curl, pulling on mine, and I stumble. I turn to look at him and raise my eyebrows in question.
“I’m coming over tomorrow, and you’re going to tell me why the fuck you’ve been back for six months, and this is how I find out.”
***
Meara drives me to my apartment, and once inside, I immediately fall asleep on the couch. I specifically told her not to tell Travis I was back because I need more time before I see him again. I’m not ready to face him yet. Although, I don’t know if I ever will be.
When I wake up, I groan at the stiffness in my neck. I really should have at least tried to make it to my bed. I stretch and throw the blanket on the back of the couch.
“Hey, hon. How ya feeling?” Meara asks from the kitchen.
“Like I got plowed.” I chuckle under my breath at my lame-ass joke.
“Ha. Ha. Do you need anything?”
“No. What the hell time is it?” I stand up and make my way to the kitchen to get some water.
“Well, It’s about ten forty-five… Friday morning.”
“I slept all night? Seriously?”
“Yeah. You were really out of it yesterday, which is understandable.”
“I was, I guess. As soon as I got out of the car, I just...” I pause and think about how lucky I am. “I dunno, it reminded me of Caroline, and I kind of zoned out. I need a shower, though. Once I’m done, you can make me food as an apology for telling Travis I’ve been back.”
“I see you’re still a master chef,” I joke, sitting down on a stool, feeling better after a shower.
“Laugh it up, bitch. It was either a grilled cheese or umm, let’s see...nothing. You have like no food in your house.” She puts a hand on her hip and scolds me with the spatula.
I roll my eyes. “I know. That’s what I was doing yesterday before the crash. Grocery shopping and birthday– Crap! How could I forget? It’s your birthday! Happy birthday!” I step around the counter and give her a hug. Then I pinch her arm.
“Ouch, what the hell?”
“You told him I’ve been back for six months. I told you not to. I said, ‘No matter what, if Travis asks, tell him I’m still in Texas’. You knew I wasn’t ready to see him!”
“I know you did, but when he called me, he was freaking out, and it slipped. What was I supposed to say? And plus, if you didn’t run into him by accident, I’m pretty sure you would stay a hermit to avoid him.” She slides a sandwich on a plate and hands it to me.
“What do you mean freaking out? He was super calm with me yesterday. I walked away from that car, Meara. I sat down and couldn’t get Caroline out of my mind. I haven't thought about her in a while, actually, which made me feel guilty. Then Travis shows up. One touch and bam, Charlotte was seventeen years old again and in love with a man she couldn’t have.”
“Stop talking about yourself in the third person, it’s annoying. And he was freaking out because he didn’t know you were back. He said he saw you sitting there in the snow and thought he was hallucinating. Think of it from his side. How do you think you would have felt in his position?”
“What am I going to do?” I groan and take a bite of cheesy goodness awaiting her reply, but it doesn’t come. “I said, what am I going to do?” I look expectantly at my cousin. Aside from her short red pixie cut and multiple piercings and tattoos, we look identical. When we were kids, we used to get asked if we were twins all the time. If she didn’t have so much body art, we still would.
“Same thing I’ve been telling you. You tell him everything. You tell him the truth. You tell him about what happened after your parents died. You tell him about Todd. You tell him you still love him,” she says nonchalantly.
“Yeah, okay. I open the door and say, ‘Hey, Travis. I was with a guy who fucked me not only in ways that would make a porn star blush, but he fucked my brain so bad that I have to see a therapist and take anxiety meds. Oh, and I’m still in love with you.”
“Well, not exactly like that,” she whispers.
“I couldn’t even look at him, Meara. I don’t want him to find out, I’m too ashamed.”
“I know you don’t. Nobody’s saying you have to do it today, but eventually you’ll probably have to.”
“Why? It’s not like he still cares.”
“That is such shit, and you know it. Char, he cares. You know the guy has feelings for you. I don’t think he would judge you like you’re thinking.”
She’s right, and I think that’s what scares me the most. Knowing this wonderful man would accept me for who I am, even though I don’t deserve it. There are two things in my life that I’m utterly embarrassed about. One of them is the relationship I found myself in with Todd, and the other is how I lied to Travis. If I could go back in time, even after everything I went through with Todd, the only thing I would ever change would be that one lie to Travis. He will never trust me again.
9
Charlotte
I wake up sometime in the middle of the night with a dry throat and an empty belly. Deciding I need to eat something, I head to the kitchen. As I’m pulling a plate out of the cupboard, I see the figure of a man out of the corner of my eye and scream. I drop the plate, and it shatters all over the floor, pieces of glass landing everywhere.
“Charlotte, it’s me,” Travis says softly as he turns on the kitchen light.
“You scared me. Holy crap.” I gasp for air and try to steady my breathing, something my therapist taught me to do when I feel a panic attack coming on. In for three, out for three. I repeat this five times, and like always, it works.
“Sorry. I called Meara to check on you, and she told me where you live. Don’t move, there’s glass all over.” He walks over, lifting me up gingerly, and sets me on the counter. I watch him in confusion as he cleans up the glass. I was right about his hair. It’s still shaved on the sides, but now it’s faded so there’s enough on top for it to stand up when he runs his fingers through it.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out.
He throws the last of the pieces away and walks over to me, standing between my legs. He grabs a chunk of my now auburn hair and rubs it between his fingers before putting it behind my ear.
“Why did you color your hair?”
“Because I wanted a change. What are you doing here, Travis?” Him being here is throwing me off. Part of me wants to grab onto him and never let go, while the other part wants to push him out the door. If he ever finds out about what I’ve done, he’ll never look at me the same. I want him to remember the girl I was, not the broken one I am today.
“Do you have to ask?”
“Well, obviously you’re here because of me, but what I mean is, you don’t have to be here. I’m fine, really.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Now, why are you up? Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
“Go back to bed, I’ll bring you something. What do you want? Meara said you were out of food, so I picked up some stuff on my way.”
“Travis, seriously, I can–”
“Char, stop. I know it’s been a while, but I still meant every damn word I said. Now tell me what you want to eat.”
“Just a sandwich, no may–”
“French dressing instead. Char, seriously?” He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head like I’m an idiot, and I guess I am.
“I didn’t think you’d remember.”
He looks over his shoulder, and his eyes bore into mine. “I remember everything about you. Now go to back bed, I’ll be right there.”
I lie in my bed and turn on a sitcom repeat. A few minutes later, he comes in with a sandwich and a glass of chocolate milk, my guilty pleasure. He really does remember everything. He hands me the plate, sets the glass on my nightstand, and sits next to me while I eat. When I’m finished, I turn my head to look at the man I’ve dreamt about for the last four years.
“I don’t even know what to say to you,” I tell him honestly.
“You can start with why you didn’t tell me you’re back.” His eyes pierce into mine with such intensity I have to look away.
Taking a d
eep breath, I decide to continue with honesty. “I’ve dealt with a lot of shit the past four years. I take that back. I’m still dealing with it. I guess I wanted to get adjusted before I brought you back into my life.”
“Why is that?” I hear the hint of humor in his voice. He’s going to make me say it.
“Because of our history. I know that you being around will throw me off what I’m trying to accomplish.” I take another deep breath and gather my thoughts. “That sounded a lot meaner than I meant it.”
“I know what you meant. It’s the same with you still, you know. The second I saw you, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Things are going to be different now with us. You need to know that I’m not the same guy I was the last time you saw me. And I was serious when I said I’d be waiting for you. Years apart and distance don’t change the way I feel about you.”
“But I lied to you.”
“You lied because you wanted to be with me,” he says, completely serious, evident by the thin line of his lips.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Do you still want that?”
“I’m scared.”
“We’ll figure it out together. For now, just rest.”
I can’t discuss the future when I’m still so messed up from my past. Being this close to him has my heart rate accelerating and my palms sweaty. “I bet you’re happy. Being a firefighter.”
He smiles. The kind of smile I know he doesn’t show everyone. The one that allows his dimple to show. “You know I am. It’s everything I thought it would be. The worst part of the job is not getting there fast enough to save someone, but that’s also a personal thing for me.” His smile fades as quickly as it came, and I know the reason behind the sadness. He harbors guilt for not getting to his ex fast enough.