Heels

by Megan Erickson

  I had a lot of time to wonder how this happened, how I hadn’t asked more questions, delved deeper in Luke’s life. Instead I’d rode the surface with him, happy and content to bask in his presence and not worry about anything else. I’d been in a fog, and now that it was lifted, I wondered how I’d let that happen in the first place. Maybe we cling to the lies for so long, wishing like hell they aren’t lies, because the truth means we’re not who we thought we were. I thought I was a strong woman who found the best in people. But maybe I was naive and gullible.

  I leaned back in the tub and closed my eyes. I wanted to get out of my own head so badly. The thoughts that circled round and round were exhausting. I must have thankfully dozed off, because some time later, the sound of a truck driving down my street woke me up. I was sufficiently wrinkled and figured it was time to get out of my purple lavender haven. I stepped out and had a towel wrapped around me when the doorbell rang. “Ooooh, perfect timing. Pizza’s here,” I said to myself. I took one step out into the hallway when I heard Rena say, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  I froze, holding my breath and willing my heart to stop beating so loudly so I could hear who she was talking to. The voice I heard next buckled my knees.

  “Is she here?”

  I dropped to the floor, the sound muffled by my fluffy towel. Resting on my hip, my shaking hand braced on my floor, I closed my eyes at the sound of his voice. I heard it in my dreams and in my quiet moments. I heard his whispers, his promises, and his laughter.

  “She’s busy,” Rena snapped.

  “Busy?”

  “Busy doing shit that doesn’t involve you. You fed her so many lines, then said you’d be gone for a few days. Well, asshole, it’s been two months, meanwhile her ex ambushes her to tell her you’re actually some criminal.”

  There was a pause, and when his voice came again, it was deadly calm. “He ambushed her?”

  Rena’s voice was thick when she answered. “Yes.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “No, I’m sorry, we’re not doing this on her doorstep. I have to ask you to leave.”

  “I need to talk to her.”

  “I’m sure you do, and it’ll be more lies, now—”

  “Rena.” That tone. It wasn’t threatening, but it was commanding. I opened my eyes and stared sightlessly down the hall. Not daring to say a word. I didn’t want to speak to him now. I wasn’t prepared. I was naked under a towel. I had no armor. Luke wasn’t finished. “I’d like to speak to her.”

  “Well, she’s not available to speak to you now,” Rena snapped, holding her ground.

  Silence followed, and I imagined they were in a stare off. Normally I would bet on my sister.

  “Fair enough,” he finally said, and there was a smile in his tone. He was smiling. I didn’t have to see him to know it was his scary as shit smile. Did he smile like that when he dealt drugs? Committed freaking homicide? “But I’m back. I’m back for good and I will speak to her.”

  Back for good. Back for good. Back for good.

  “Just because you say it doesn’t mean it’ll happen. There are people who care about her. You leaving after all she’d been through with that ex of hers—”

  “I’m not her ex.”

  “No but—”

  “I’m back for good,” he said again. “And I will talk to her, because I won’t give up.”

  Silence followed his words, and I nearly called out to him. Even now, my body felt drawn to his like a magnet. I curled my fingers to anchor myself in my carpet.

  His voice came again, loud this time, booming throughout my house, echoing off my walls, searing into my soul. “I’ll give you time if you need it, Peaches. But then, we’ll talk.”

  No other words were spoken. The front door shut. A truck started up outside, and then roared away down the street.

  White noise buzzed in my ears, and it took me a moment to realize it was my harsh panting. I let my body fall the rest of the way, bringing my knees up to my chest, and that was how my sister found me when she raced down the hall. A little bundle of terry-cloth-covered damp human curled into a ball.

  “Sam.” She knelt next to me, running her hand through my hair. “Are you okay?”

  Was I okay? Catatonic was probably not okay. Just when I started being able to keep food down. Now the thought of eating pizza made me want to dry heave.

  “He’s gone,” Rena said when I didn’t answer. “He left. I was hoping you didn’t even hear him. He can’t hurt you. I won’t let him.”

  She thought I was scared of him.

  “I’m not scared,” I said softly, trying to sit up.

  “It’s okay to be—“

  I forced myself to look at my sister’s face, to confront the concern etched in her features. “I’m not scared of him. I’m scared of myself, because I heard his voice and all I wanted to do was run to that door, to feel his arms around me, to ask him his name. And I’m scared of myself because I think that if he still lied to my face, I’d allow it. I’d freaking allow it, Rena. Because I still want him that much.”

  Utter devastation passed over Rena’s face. “Sam, baby. No.”

  I placed my hand on my belly. “Yes. So I’m glad he’s gone. Because I don’t trust myself.”

  I didn’t know what else to say after that. I let Rena pull me to my feet. I sat placidly on the bed while she brushed my damp hair, while she dressed me, and then help me into bed.

  She left my room, and a few minutes later, the pizza arrived. I smelled it, and turned my face into my pillow as the scent turned my stomach.

  I’m back for good. And I will talk to her, because I won’t give up.

  I longed for sleep, because I knew down to my marrow that he wouldn’t give up. He’d find me, he’d talk to me, and I had no idea what I’d do.

  Fourteen

  I avoided him for a solid week. I heard he was working for Harry again.

  I’d taken to wearing flowy clothes to hide my growing belly. I was sure everyone assumed I was eating my feelings after Luke left me. They’d be wrong, because I wasn’t eating well at all. Rena was worried, I was worried, and so was my doctor. I forced food down my throat, but I barely tasted it.

  I pulled into my driveway on a Monday night, relieved that Rena would be coming over. I seemed to eat better when she was around. My feet hurt—I still hadn’t changed to flats—and I was bone tired. So when I stepped out of my car, and heard my name in that deep voice, my reaction was delayed.

  I froze, my hand on my open car door, to see Luke sitting on my front stoop. How had I not seen him? Where was his truck?

  I didn’t move, didn’t say a thing as he rose to his feet. I noted he was moving stiffly, and his hair was shorter. He also had a scar running down the side of his face which I knew for certain had not been there last time I’d seen him. He walked toward me slowly, hands out. “Peaches,” he said.

  I closed my eyes, the one word like a dagger in the heart. “Please leave.”

  “I just want to talk.”

  “Please leave my property.”

  “Sam.”

  I opened my eyes. “Please leave, Bryan.”

  He flinched so abruptly that his shoulders kicked back and he stopped walking with a jerk. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He glanced away for a split second, his jaw clenching, before he eased the muscles and met my gaze again. “I told you, when I came back, that we’d talk about some things.”

  “Too late,” I whispered.

  Pain sliced across his face. “It can’t be too late.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him about the baby, because maybe that would be the reason he’d leave me alone. But the sound of tires screeching drew my attention. Rena’s Mustang roared down the street and pulled into my driveway, nearly slamming into my bumper. She jumped out her car, finger already pointed at Bryan. “I told you to leave her alone.”

  “And I told you I’m back for good.”

  “She’s worked all day and she
’s dead at her feet. And I’m tired of men in her past accosting her in front of her own house.”

  Bryan’s eyes flashed. “I’m not her ex.”

  “Yes, you are.” Rena took my arm and steered me around Bryan and into the house. “You’re just another ex.”

  She opened up my door and ushered us in, and slammed it shut behind her. I didn’t know what I was thinking, but I immediately went to the front window and peered through the curtains. Bryan stood on my front lawn for a minute, hands on his hips, head bent. He ran a hand over his face and up into his hair, then flung it down in frustration. He juggled a set of keys as he began to talk toward the street. I searched again frantically for his truck, that gleaming white behemoth where we probably conceived our child.

  But he didn’t get into that truck. It was another white one, but a different manufacturer. In ten seconds, he was pulling away from the curb and leaving.

  I sank down into the nearest chair and dropped my head in my hands. I could feel Rena close. “What did he say to you?”

  “He wants to talk,” I said into my palms.

  “I know you’ll have to talk to him eventually, but it’s got to be on your terms. He can’t think he can just show up here and you’ll drop everything to speak to him when he says so.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I know. I’m not ready yet.”

  “I know you’re not.” She sank down beside me and wrapped her arms around me.

  “I hate this,” I said. “You should be enjoying newlywed bliss and instead you’re always over here with me. And I’m no fun.”

  “Well you’re not fun right now, but we’ll get to fun again. Plus, I expect all this and more in payback when I’m pregnant.”

  I laughed. “Deal.”

  “I’m going to get the groceries out of my car and start dinner, okay?”

  I nodded. When my sister stood up, I missed the warmth of her hug. I stared out the window sightlessly as she carried in the groceries. I did want to talk to Bryan. I had to, but my thoughts were still so jumbled. I wanted to be less hurt, and more able to keep my wits about him. Even now, his voice made my knees weak.

  I’d never fully comprehended the phrase that time heals all wounds until now. Each day got a little bit better, but there was nothing I could do to speed up the process. It was like my brain needed the buffering time for the whole picture to become clear. So I needed time until I faced Bryan again with his charm and slick smiles and answers. Because something told me that my world wasn’t done being rocked.

  I hated being late. But this morning I’d hit my alarm and fallen back asleep. I never did that. Heck, sometimes I even work up before my alarm. So I sped the entire way to work with a granola bar shoved in my mouth and a steaming hot travel mug of coffee in the console. I already knew today was not going to be my day. Even worse? I was late for preschool story time.

  I slowed down as I drew closer to the library, even though I sped the entire way there. Wouldn’t do for the librarian to roar into the parking lot, tires squealing, even if I was late for my absolute favorite day of the week.

  I pulled into my parking lot and hopped out of the car, grabbing my bag and slamming the door shut, losing a shoe in the process. I hopped toward the front door, fitting my heel back on my foot and deciding that I was going to have to invest in flats and forgo my beloved heels for the next six months.

  I pushed open the doors and rushed inside, making a beeline for the story time corner, an apology already on my lips.

  Instead of the chatter of children, I was met with the sound of a deep voice reverberating around the library. I slowed down, my heels silent on the carpet, and turned the corner.

  Bryan sat on my chair—my chair that I’d upholstered by hand—reading a picture book. The children sat around him in rapt attention, focused on the large man speaking in different tones as he took on various book characters. His huge grin dominated his face, and his eyes sparkled as he made a barking sound that startled half the group before they dissolved into giggles. Bryan didn’t just read—he lived the book, making eye contact with the children in a way experienced librarians couldn’t even do. He was a natural with the children, who clearly loved him. Elsie, my dear little Elsie, sat so close that her little hand rested on Bryan’s boot.

  I didn’t know how this happened, that he took over story time in my absence, all I knew was that I couldn’t watch much more of this. My throat was closing up, my eyes blurring, as I thought about his own child growing in my stomach, as I thought about the potential he had to be a great dad—if he actually wanted children and wasn’t a career criminal.

  None of this was going to work. I didn’t need a husband and a white picket fence, but I deserved peace and happiness. My child deserved to be wanted. I was about to walk away when Bryan glanced up and met my gaze. For a second he broke character, his eyes heated and intense, before he focused back on the book.

  I turned and ran.

  I made it to the break room, my breaths short, my lungs screaming for oxygen. Was this what a panic attack felt like? I didn’t think I’d ever had one in my life. I grabbed a water bottle and chugged it down and had myself under control, standing near a table, when the door at my back swung open. I closed my eyes as footsteps came inside, then the door shut again.

  I didn’t turn around, and after a few seconds that felt like hours, he spoke.

  “Sorry. I came here to talk to you, and when you were late, I thought why not read to the kids? They were getting restless.” He cleared his throat, and I gripped the table tighter to keep my balance. “I like reading kids books. I used to read to my little sister.”

  He’d told me he was an only child.

  “Yeah, that’s another lie that I told you,” he continued when I didn’t say anything. “I have a sister. Everything else about how I grew up was true. But I wasn’t worried about protecting myself from the guys coming in and out of our trailer, I was making sure they didn’t touch my sister.”

  This was touching, but I needed keep a hold on my sympathy instead of getting sucked back in. “Why should I believe you now?”

  “Peaches,” he sighed, and it was one of the first times I heard true frustration in his voice. “I could have gone anywhere. California. Brazil. Fucking Iceland. I didn’t. I came right back here, and drove straight to your house.”

  “Why?” My throat constricted as I swallowed down a ball of emotion threatening to cut off my air.

  “Because I almost died. And when I was on my knees with a gun to my forehead, all I could think was that I was so close, so fucking close to getting the life and the girl of my dreams before my past reeled me back in.” He made a raspy exasperated sound. “I was kidding myself here, with you before. Being around you made me feel invincible. Good. Whole. And then I had a wakeup call that I was none of those fucking things.”

  He sounded sincere, but I’d been fooled before. “That was a lot of pressure to put on me.”

  “It was. So when I didn’t get a bullet to the brain, I knew I had to cut all ties with my old life behind. Everyone I ever did business with as Bryan Drayer, I let them know I was done. I didn’t want to talk to you again until I was officially done, until it was over. So I could return to Gentry and ask you to accept me for all I’ve done and how I’m trying to move forward.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “A choice about what?”

  “About all of this? About believing you or taking you back?”

  “Sam, of course you have a choice.” His voice sounded closer. “And there’s more to tell you. I want you to meet my sister and her boyfriend, but… could you turn around please? Can I see your face?”

  I could do this. I could face Bryan and keep my wits about me. With a hand still on the table, I turned on my heel. I was right, he was close. So close that I could see the scar on his face was from a fresh wound. His eyes fluttered and his shoulders lowered with a soft sigh, like he was relieved. I wanted to reach out to him, to touch his face, feel my lips o
n his again. Was I this weak to take him back? Or was I resisting the best thing that ever happened to me?

  “Hi,” he smiled, and it wasn’t a cocky one. My heart pounded in my chest, and I had to curl my hand into a fist to keep from touching him. “I’m Bryan Drayer. I’ve done some fucked up things in the name of survival, but I want to start over here if you’ll have me back.”

  “And if I don’t?” The answer didn’t matter anymore, but I asked it anyway.

  His smiled faded a bit as he shrugged. “I’ll probably leave. I’ll tell you I’ll be okay, and you can believe that.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “My sister says I know how to emotionally manipulate people, so I’m not supposed to tell you that leaving here and never seeing you again would break me so that I’d never recover.”

  A giggle bubbled up my throat without warning, and I had to clap my hand over my mouth to stop it. Bryan smiled. “You’d love my sister.”

  I lowered my hand to my chest. “Sounds like I would.”

  “Will you give me a chance?” Another step closer. “I—”

  “I’m pregnant.” Yep, I did that. Just blurted it out without warning. I didn’t even signal my brain to do it, my vocal chords just took over and flung the two words out there between us like poison-tipped arrows. They’d either kill him or he’d be immune.

  His face drained of color, like I’d sucked the blood right out of him. He flung out a hand to grip the table as his body shook, like he’d just been blasted with ice water. I’d never seen him falter even a bit, always so in control of his body.

  He listed toward me, face still pale, gaze pinging wildly around my face like he was working hard to read me. “Come again?”

  My tongue felt huge and thick as I struggled to say the words again. “I’m pregnant.”

  He blinked, then his gaze dropped to my stomach, currently covered by a shapeless dress. “You’re…that’s…baby.”