I ignored the movement beside me as a stool slid back, its legs creaking against the floor. I continued to stare into my drink. Words were exchanged, but I was unable to care enough to listen. A shoulder nudged me, partially pulling me from my daze.
“Having a bad night?”
I looked up to see a man grinning from the seat beside me. He was older than I was by probably twenty years. His black hair was meticulously combed against his head, his cold, almost black eyes curious as they took in my expression. Grimacing, I gave him no response, just turned away.
“You’re awfully pretty to be sitting here all alone.”
I cringed. I knew I was—pretty. Daniel used to tell me all the time. It was sweet and had made me feel good. But something about the way this guy said it made me feel dirty.
“What are you drinking there?”
Couldn’t he see I didn’t want to talk to anyone?
“Um, a soda.”
He chuckled beside me before calling to the bartender, “Can you bring us another of these?” The ice clinked in his glass when he lifted it in the air. The woman set a short glass down in front me, the dark liquid somehow suddenly appealing. I’d never drank liquor before, but I figured this was a really good time to start. I brought the glass to my lips and tipped it into my mouth, taking in more than anticipated. I choked against the terrible taste, my gag reflex kicking in as I tried to swallow. I finally forced it down, chasing it with some of my soda.
Again, the chuckle beside me. He was amused.
I refused to acknowledge him as I brought the glass to my lips again, this time carefully, and I sipped a small amount. It tasted awful, but I found comfort in the warm trail it left in my throat. I knew it was wrong to drink to feel better. I just couldn’t make myself care. I finished the first glass before he handed me another.
“That’s a good girl,” he whispered near my ear.
My skin prickled against his breath on my face, warning me, telling me something wasn’t right, but the mixture of alcohol and despair clouded my judgment.
I glanced at him. His left elbow was propped on the bar, his head resting in his hand, his face hard and curious.
“So where are you headed?” He squinted as he waited for my answer, bringing his glass to his lips once again.
I shrugged. I had nowhere to go.
Laughing under his breath, he tilted my chin and looked over my face. I got the impression he was inspecting me.
I knew I should shrug him off, probably even run, but I just sat there, unable to make myself care.
“You have nowhere to go?” he asked, his tone harsh, doubtful. I shook my head. He snorted through his nose, his chest shaking, no sound coming from his mouth.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.” It was only a whisper.
His eyes narrowed, and he looked me over again. He stood and put out his hand. “Come.” It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. Somehow I knew it was a test to see if I would obey. I felt nauseous when I touched him, my body repulsed by his. Yet, I followed him out of the airport and into a cab, knowing I was giving away the only part of me I had left. But the alcohol in my system argued I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. It insisted I couldn’t run back to my mother; she would only laugh in my face and tell me she’d been right all along.
Daniel didn’t want me.
So I convinced myself I had no other choice. I sat in the back of the cab as he ran his fingers up and down my arm, the touch eliciting chills, revulsion clamoring through my veins.
“Are you excited?”
My dead heart quickened at his words, and I felt scared and ashamed. Never in a million years would I have dreamt I’d give myself away like this.
The trip to the nearest hotel was short. In silence, I followed as he led me into the hotel, and I let the numbness take over while he arranged for a room and led me to the elevator.
I tried not to feel as he explored my body, declaring it as his own. His hands were rough and hard. I’d never been touched this way. Daniel had always worshipped—adored—but this was something I didn’t understand. It made me ill. I lay frozen under him as I tried to seek comfort in my mind, tried to retreat to another time and place, but I couldn’t block him out completely. Tears streamed down my face and I prayed for it to end.
When he finally rolled away from me, I rushed for the bathroom. Slamming the door behind me, I spilled the contents of my stomach into the toilet. The alcohol burned as it made its second pass through my throat. I curled into a ball on the cold floor, my leg hurting worse than it ever had. I welcomed the pain. I deserved the punishment for what I’d done.
My soul called out for Daniel, begging him to comfort me, to take it all away. I prayed he’d know, no matter what I’d done or what I subjected myself to, that he would always be my only love.
Using the toilet to brace myself, I pulled myself up, reaching for a towel to clean my face, hoping it would wipe away some of the shame. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my dead eyes haunting me. I allowed myself to shed one last tear for the girl I once knew before accepting what I’d now become.
I flew back to Dallas the next day. Nicholas Borelli sat next to me in first class, his posture relaxed as he read the paper.
He’d offered me an escape. I could leave everything behind and not have the constant reminder of the life I’d once had.
Of course, I knew I’d always carry Daniel with me. I could never completely escape him. I felt him as Nicholas and I touched down in Dallas. I felt him when we went to city hall and signed papers that made us husband and wife. I felt him when we went to Mom’s and I sat and I lied and told her I’d fallen in love. I felt him as I tore through my room, trying to rid myself of every reminder of Daniel and Eva. And I felt him three days later when I boarded the plane to serve my sentence in Hell.
“You didn’t want me!” I cried over and over. Daniel’s rejection was fresh, the scars ripped open.
I wanted him so badly. I’d almost given in and become that person I refused to be. I didn’t know how I’d torn myself from his arms.
I had to be strong.
I had to be strong.
And the only way to do that was to stay away from Daniel Montgomery.
Chapter Sixteen
Once again, I stood helplessly and watched her drive away. Would this torment never end?
I knew I’d pushed her too far. We’d needed to talk first, get everything out, and I’d given in and allowed my desire for her to drive me. Her words still echoed through my mind, distinct and utterly untrue. “You didn’t want me.”
I shook my head. There wasn’t a moment in my life when I didn’t desire her. How could she have ever believed I didn’t want her?
I wasn’t going to allow her to walk out of my life again without knowing the truth.
I turned on my heel, yanked the door wide, and rushed through the lobby.
“Was that who I think it was?” Dad stood at the end of the hallway, panting, almost seeming disoriented from the shock. He leaned one hand against the wall for support, the other clutching the front of his jacket. I nodded, unwilling to take the time to explain the situation to him. I had to get to her.
Rushing into my office, I grabbed my keys from the desk. Frantically, I searched for my wallet, strewing papers across the floor as I pushed them out of the way.
Dad appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide as he surveyed my office, trying to put the pieces together. “Daniel, what the hell is going on? How did she find you? “
“She’s married to Nicholas Borelli,” I mumbled as I continued rummaging through my desk.
He stared blankly; the name meant nothing to him.
“Borelli & Preston.” I raised my eyebrows at him while I continued my search.
His body stiffened, his eyes wide and disturbed. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, looking around anxiously. “What happened? What did she say?”
“Not a whole lot was said.” And I wasn�
�t about to go into detail about what did happen. “She just kept saying that I didn’t want her. How could she believe that? I’m going to find her and make some sense of this craziness.” I finally spied the black leather lying beside my chair on the floor. I whipped it up, grabbed my jacket, and made for the door.
Dad stepped in front of me, blocking my way. “Whoa. You need to take a step back, son. You’re agitated and irrational. It’s quite obvious she was upset and wanted you to give her some space, so that’s what you need to do.” His hand was firm against my chest, though his face was compassionate.
“The last time I gave her space, I didn’t see her for nine fucking years, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to let that happen again.” This time I was going to fight for her, and I was going to win.
“I’m not saying to stay away from her forever, but you need to give her some time to calm down.”
I ran my hands through my hair and took a step back, trying to let go of some of the tension coursing through my body. He was right. I needed to think this through before I scared her away forever.
“I can’t pretend to understand what you’re feeling right now. I’ve watched you suffer more in the last nine years than any one person should ever have to. But you need to realize the seriousness of this situation. I know you love her...” He hesitated, waiting for me to look him in the eye. “But have you even considered the fact that she’s married? I’ve always hoped and prayed she’d come back to you, but breaking up a marriage...” He winced as he said the last words, probably thinking his words would cut me, but where they should bring me shame, I felt none. He hadn’t seen her with him.
“She doesn’t love him.” Retreating to my desk, I sank into my chair. “I’m scared for her, Dad. If you saw the way he looked at her.” My body rippled with an involuntary shudder as I thought back to their interaction that night. “He was so controlling, so cold.” I snapped myself back, looking directly at Dad. “You know I’ve never gone after her all these years because I thought I was allowing her some amount of happiness. If she was happy, or even satisfied, I’d leave her alone. But, Dad, if you looked into her eyes and saw her face, you’d understand. She can’t live without me any more than I can live without her. I just can’t believe it was an accident that we both ended up here in Chicago. She loves me. She needs me.” I stressed the words. “I know she does.”
Dad inhaled deeply and sat on the edge of my desk. “This is really complicated, but I can’t doubt you. You know Melanie better than anyone else. You do know this could get really ugly, right?”
I nodded. Of course I knew it, but she was more than worth it.
“Then I want you to give her a few days to think things through.” He looked at the wall, seemingly focused on some nonexistent object, then suddenly looked down at me. “And then go bring my daughter back.”
***
My eyes fluttered opened, a faint glow of light barely illuminating the room. My arms were wrapped around my pillow, her presence still surrounding me.
I smiled into the cotton as I rolled myself over. I glanced at the clock—six thirty-seven in the morning.
I’d dreamt of her again. Beautiful visions of Melanie replaced the nightmares that had plagued me for the last nine years. Instead of waking to the crushing pain, I woke to the memory of her soft skin beneath my hands, my fingertips ghosting trails over her cheekbones, her body reacting to mine. It had been a long time since I’d felt so alive. The dreams were more real than the agonizing reality I’d faced without her. For two days, I had waited. Those days had been spent longing for her, unable to concentrate on anything except her, just biding my time. Today that time was up. Today I wouldn’t stop until it was all out. I wouldn’t rest until I knew everything. I wouldn’t give up until Melanie Winters knew I would love her forever.
July 2000
Four months without her. I had been lying in bed for three days, consumed with nothing but Melanie. Every thought was of her and what she was doing.
It was as if I’d been living for months without my soul.
Overwhelmed with grief, I lived day-to-day, just waiting for Melanie to come back to me.
She had gone back to Dallas with her mom. I had begged her to come home with me, but she insisted she needed time alone to deal with everything that had happened. I couldn’t begin to understand how she thought it would be better if we were apart. Without Melanie, every second would be torture.
But I had to respect her wishes. After all, it was my fault, and even though she’d never admit it, I knew it hurt her to even look at me. I’d caused all of this, and I feared she would never totally forgive me.
That thought alone nearly killed me. I longed to hear her voice, just one phone call to hold me over until we were together again. I picked up the phone a hundred times a day to call her, just to tell her I loved her and that I couldn’t wait to hold her again. It was the memory of Melanie’s father whispering misery near my ear just after Melanie’s cab pulled from view that made me hang up the phone each time, how he’d reminded me that I’d killed Eva, that I’d almost killed his daughter, how he’d threatened me to stay away.
Still, I clung to the promise Melanie had made that she would come back to me.
So I waited, going through the motions each day, waiting for my heart to return to me.
I was ready to crack. I couldn’t continue like this much longer. I hadn’t been to class in a week and had barely made it out of bed in the last three days. I just wanted to lay here until Melanie came back to me. I didn’t have the strength to do anything else.
A knocking on the door jarred me from my thoughts. I pressed the pillow over my head, trying to drown out the incessant noise, but the pounding continued, growing louder.
“Go away!” I shouted as I threw the pillow across the room. Couldn’t people understand I just wanted to be alone? Obviously not, because whoever it was just kept knocking. Groaning, I stood up, my body aching from disuse and weak from lack of food. I dragged myself down the hallway, sure I looked as near to death as I felt. Ready to take all my frustration out on whoever was at the door, I swung it open, but stopped when I saw who it was.
Stephanie.
Shit.
“Daniel Montgomery.” She let out an audible breath when she took in my appearance.
She’d been leaving messages for the last three days, wondering why I’d missed all of our study sessions, and I’d never replied. We’d forged somewhat of a friendship over the last year as study partners, and she’d convinced me to take physics over the summer session, insisting it would help get my mind off things. Last week, I had decided to blow it off. I just couldn’t focus on school right now. I guess I should have let her know.
“Why didn’t you call me back? I was getting worried about you.”
She seemed relieved. I’m not sure what she expected to find when she got over here.
“Sorry, I’m just not doing so great right now.” I stood there in nothing but my boxers, feeling a little self-conscious.
“I figured as much, so I came to make you dinner.” She held up a paper sack. “I thought you might need somebody to take care of you.” Reaching up, she caressed my cheek with her fingertips. Something about her touch felt too intimate. My instincts kicked in, telling me only Melanie should touch me that way. I eased back, not wanting to offend the only friend I had, but not wanting to encourage her. Hurt flitted across her face before she scrunched up her nose.
“Ew! Daniel! Seriously, you smell. I bet you haven’t had a shower in days. Go get cleaned up while I make us dinner.” She grinned at me, nodding her head toward the hallway. “And hurry up before I lose my appetite,” she teased, trying to lighten my mood a little bit. For a moment, it felt good to have a friend that cared enough to check up on me.
It was hard being up here in Boulder all alone. Mom and Dad tried to visit often, but with Dad at the hospital working long hours, it was hard for them to make it up more than every couple of week
s, and Erin wouldn’t get home from her trip backpacking around Europe for another two months. She’d been adamant that she cancel her trip, but I’d insisted that she go. There was no reason for her to stay here when she could do nothing for me anyway.
And it wasn’t like I was the best of company.
But Steph came to take care of me.
I forced a smile and headed to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stepped into the steam. When I breathed in, it hurt. The slight pressure in my ribs served as a constant reminder of what I had done, of the damage I caused. I welcomed the pain; God knew how much Melanie had suffered.
I missed her so much.
“Melanie, come back to me.” I prayed that she could hear me—feel me.
Stephanie was waiting for me, so I forced myself to hurry and finish my shower. Dried and dressed, I walked out to the kitchen. I stopped in the entryway and watched Stephanie working at the stove. I pictured my girl making us dinner. I grinned when I thought about how excited Melanie had been as she explored her kitchen for the first time, remembering just how happy it had made her.
“Hey you,” Stephanie said as she stepped toward me, holding out her hand. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Thanks for doing this, Steph. You don’t know how much it means.” This was what I needed, somebody to force me out of the fog I was living in.
Sitting there eating the spaghetti Stephanie had made, I realized I couldn’t stay here and wait for Melanie much longer. I needed to bring her back to me, and I couldn’t do that if I was wasting away in bed.
We had to move on. I would go for her, and soon.
***
July’s End 2000
I couldn’t see through the tears as I tried to find my way back to the Dallas airport. It poured rain outside, coming down in sheets, lightning flashing through the sky every few seconds.
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