Wallflowers: One Heart Remains

by CP Smith

  Knox smiled with pride.

  Cali looked baffled.

  And Sienna blinked.

  Then both Wallflowers laughed.

  “This isn’t funny,” Devin growled.

  “No, it’s not,” I agreed. “Grown men thinkin’ they know what’s goin’ on inside a woman’s head at any given moment, is hysterical.” I snorted and scoffed at the ridiculousness. The stupidity. The . . . I couldn’t think of another word, but it was all a big pile of horse manure, is what it was.

  “We both saw it, Poppy,” Devin kept pushing the same worn-out line, but he appeared a tad unsure of the validity of his defense.

  I sighed because men were so dang dense sometimes. “Yes, I was afraid, Devin. That much you got right. But not afraid of Nate, but for Nate. He’d just beaten a man bloody. I was terrified he would go to jail. Afraid, that after all he’d been through with his father, he’d end up losin’ everything because of me.”

  “That’s not what it looked like,” he hedged, but his face had grown speculative, and he’d lost the edge of anger he’d been holding onto.

  I crossed my arms and glowered at him. “Tell me, Devin, what am most I angry about now? You accusin’ me of bein’ afraid of Nate, the kindest man I know, or the fact we’re havin’ this conversation at all.”

  He considered it a moment, then looked at Cali and Sienna, who both had their arms crossed in Wallflower solidarity. His mouth pulled into a devilish smile when he looked back at me. “Both.”

  Well dang. He read that one right.

  “Where’s Nate?” I sighed, done with this absurd conversation. “I need to set things straight.”

  Devin looked at Bo. “He didn’t say where he was goin’ when he left the bar. But he needs time, Poppy. He can be stubborn sometimes. If you try to explain before he’s had time to calm down, he might not listen to you.”

  Anxiety sank its teeth into me for the first time since I’d left the bar, making it hard to breathe. “Are you sayin’ that even if I tell him I’m not afraid of him, he still might walk away from me?”

  He didn’t beat around the bush. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m sayin’. He needs time, or he won’t listen. Not after his mother was terrorized by his father. There is no greater sin to Nate Jacobs than a woman bein’ afraid of the one person she should trust with her whole heart.”

  _______________

  I took Devin’s advice, against my better judgment, and agreed to wait until morning to track down Nate. Knox dropped me off close to midnight, and I climbed the stairs like a dead man walking. I knew I’d never sleep, so I went back to the sketch I’d been working on the night Nate and I made love the first time . . . was it just the day before? So much had happened in a short amount of time. Three days ago, I had no father, no sister, and no boyfriend. As the sun threatened to rise on my last day of vacation, I had all three. Even if Nate didn’t know it yet.

  I blew across the paper, scattering the loose charcoal to the floor, then sat back and studied Nate’s face. Just looking at him made my heart hurt. He’d been through so much. Survived hell, only to better himself, and now I was the cause of more pain. After everything he’d done for me, I’d still managed to send him packing. I didn’t deserve him—but I was keeping him—even if I had to beat him senseless until he listened to me.

  His brown eyes stared back at me with intensity, reminding me of when he vowed he would fix me. Well, I’d fix him too. When I was done with him, he’d never doubt again that I trusted him or felt an ounce of fear when he was near.

  In the distance, I could hear a motorcycle racing up the street, so I stopped critiquing my sketch and turned my head toward my front door. Jumping from my drafting stool, I ran to the window and looked out on the dark Savannah night. A live oak blocked most of my sight, so I moved to the next window, hoping for a better view. I held my breath while I listened.

  Was it Nate?

  As it drew closer, I recognized the engine. Harleys had a distinct sound to them, but there was something about Nate’s that set it apart. It was deeper. Richer sounding when he shifted through the gears. I would know it anywhere.

  It slowed a block from my apartment and turned off. Was he watching me? I looked around my apartment. Every light was burning. I’d turned them on to chase away the darkness, but also as a symbolic candle in the window for Nate to follow. If he were watching me, he’d know I was up.

  Not hesitating a moment longer, I opened my front door and stepped out onto the landing, moving to the railing. I cursed the dang live oak for providing so much coverage from the road. It was doubtful he could see me. I searched the darkness a block up, trying to find him in the shadows, but it was pointless. He was too well hidden. Moments later, his big engine thundered to life, and my heart dropped. He was leaving. Not caring I was only wearing a T-shirt and panties, I hit the stairs running. I’d jump in front of his bike if I had to, to get him to stop.

  I’d only made it to the second landing when his bike shot past my building. I screamed his name loud enough to wake the dead in the Civil War cemetery across the street, but he couldn’t hear me over his engine. Left without options, I kept going down the stairs.

  Historic Savannah was set up in short blocks, no more than a tenth of a mile long. Townhomes and smaller hotels took up most of the space, with alleys and smaller streets running parallel with the main roads. Only two square miles made up the whole downtown area, with park-like squares interrupting the flow of traffic, leaving only a few streets that would take him straight back to the river. I knew if he were headed back to his apartment, he’d take a left on Habersham two streets up to avoid the squares. So I hit the pavement in my bare feet and ran for all I was worth, not stopping, even when I stepped on something sharp. My arms were pumping fast as I rounded the corner on York a half block up and watched to see if he sped past. Less than a second later, he shot across York, heading up Habersham. He was headed home.

  He’d come to check on me, even though he thought we were through. I had to get to him. My car was still parked near River Street. I’d never picked it up after walking Gertie, so I had no other options. I should have turned around for shoes, but I had an irrational fear that if I didn’t get to him now, it would be too late. He’d hunted me down in Tybee when I’d run from him. He’d sent me a text when I’d panicked and gone to the mall to sort my head out, proving time and again he was a man of action. But I’d listened to Devin and left him alone because I thought Devin knew best, rather than going with my gut and hunting him down like he would have done for me. How did giving him space show him I wasn’t afraid of him? When you loved someone, you showed them by chasing them to Tybee. By standing beside them while they fought their demons. By being patient while they overcame their fear of being touched. Everything Nate had done the past few days was because he cared. I’d sat at home and done nothing, which only reinforced his belief I was scared. He’d been alone for hours with his demons, and I’d gone home and waited for the sun to rise instead of hunting him down like he would have done for me.

  Tears streaked down my face while I ran through the deserted streets of Historic Savannah. My feet burned with cuts, as well as my thigh muscles, as I pushed through the pain. Jacobs’ Ladder was less than a half-mile as the crow flies from my apartment. I could make it in less than ten minutes with the streets clear.

  The city was too quiet, the shadows filled with ghosts as I raced through the night. But fear for another reason pushed my legs forward. I couldn’t lose Nate. Wouldn’t lose him. He’d become the most important person in my life practically overnight.

  The humid air, thick with the scents of the river, clung to me as I started to cross Bay Street. A lone car was traveling east when I crossed the last road before the river, slamming on their brakes mere feet from hitting me. I was startled by the noise and tumbled to the asphalt, scraping my hands and knees when I hit. I got to my feet instantly and kept going until I hit the grassy knoll in front of the Cotton Exchange. With
out looking back or apologizing to the driver, I headed for the cobblestone-covered ramp that would take me down to the river. Fifty feet in, a voice hollered at me from an alley. I jerked my head around and managed to twist my ankle on the uneven surface as I made my way down. The vagrant swayed, beer in hand, but I ignored him. I waved him off and rounded the corner onto River Street.

  I made the final block to Nate’s apartment on a wing and a prayer. His bike was parked next to his side door, the engine putting off heat from his recent trip. Out of breath, I limped to his door and raised my hand to pound. Music was pouring out from under the door, but the lights were off. He was inside, in the dark, with nothing but music to keep him company.

  My tears ran faster at the image.

  Leaning my back against the door, I listened while I caught my breath. Shinedown’s cover of “Simple Man” was playing. It was the same song I was listening to when we made love the first time. The same song I’d set as my ringtone for Nate, so I’d never forget what it felt like to be held by him, and he was tormenting himself with the song. I had to get inside.

  Rounding on the door, I pounded for all I was worth. I waited, but nothing happened. Either he couldn’t hear me over the music, or he refused to get up. As loud as the music was, I figured it was the former, so I tried the doorknob while I continued to pound. It turned easily, so I pushed the door open. Low light filtered inside from a streetlight up above at the Cotton Exchange, so I could see shapes inside his apartment. I scanned the room and found Nate sitting in a chair. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed. He was raising a tumbler of amber-colored liquid to his mouth with one hand, and petting Gertrude with the other while she snored on the floor next to his chair.

  I drank in what I could see of him in the dark corner. The breadth of his wide shoulders, his narrow waist, the massive arm muscles that flexed as he raised his drink. Everything about him was breathtaking, but what I wanted to see most of all were his eyes. He couldn’t hide from me when his eyes were open. They were too expressive.

  I moved through the dark to his stereo, following the green digital bars dancing with the beat, and hit the off button. I expected him to open his eyes and look at me, but he didn’t even flinch. Guess I knew the answer to whether he heard me or not.

  “You shouldn’t be out this time of night by yourself.” His words were growled.

  “You shouldn’t be drinkin’ and drivin’,” I replied, positive this wasn’t his first glass.

  He answered by taking another sip.

  “We need to talk.” I started to head to a lamp so I could see him, but he broke the silence with a dead voice.

  “I was six the first time he hit me,” Nate said without pause, his answer to us needing to talk. My hand came up to cover a gasp. “I idolized my father when I was six. I didn’t know any better. The first time he hit me it was as if someone had died. My childhood illusions were shattered that day.”

  Hard as I tried to hold it back, a tiny sob escaped, and he turned to look at me. I was standing in the shadows so he couldn’t see me well. I started to move toward him, but he turned his head away from me and closed his eyes again. “I don’t need your pity any more than you needed mine.”

  Oh God, I was mucking this up.

  “I don’t feel pity,” I said quickly, trying to ease his mind. “Nate, I’m here to tell you—”

  “I know why you’re here and it won’t work.”

  “I don’t think you understand—”

  “I was ten, the first time I hit him back,” he continued, ignoring me. “It wasn’t until I was thirteen that he truly felt the sting of my fist.”

  He was feeding the bad wolf like his mother said he would, so I lowered myself to the floor and sat, unwilling to move closer for fear he’d stop talking. He needed to get this out. I just prayed I’d know when to stop him and feed the good wolf. The happy, joyful, peaceful wolf.

  “By fifteen I was two inches taller than him. He stopped takin’ potshots at me once I was bigger, but my mother would pay if I mouthed off. So I kept my mouth shut. My mother, as you know, is a free spirit just like you. My father tried to suppress her beauty; tried to keep it all to himself.”

  He raised his glass again and took another drink. It was killing me to just sit there, but this was his time to purge the filth from his head, and I had to let him.

  “You can’t hold back that kind of spirit. That wildness like you possess. It’s like tryin’ to smother the light of a star. It’ll seep around the edges until all that beauty breaks free.” He raised a hand to his face and pinched his nose. “So he tried to beat it back, so no one else would see it.”

  I knew if I tried to comment, I’d lose my battle to keep from crying out loud, so I nodded when appropriate and attempted to keep my sobbing to a whisper. He lived with these images daily; I could live with them long enough for him to lance his wound so it could heal.

  “She’d baked me a cake.” The words were wrenched from his gut, the pain palatable. “It was just a fuckin’ cake for my sixteenth birthday, but he was pissed off for no other reason than she showed me attention.”

  Both my hands came up to cover my mouth, to stop my reaction. Was he saying he’d beaten his father nearly to death on his birthday? Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  “He couldn’t handle how close we were. Couldn’t handle anyone but him havin’ her affection. He said he’d had a hard day at work and didn’t need to come home to a loud house. My mother shushed him for bein’ a dick on my birthday, and the next thing I knew he was beatin’ her.” He lifted his eyes to where I was sitting. “So I stopped him.”

  And he died three days later.

  “I’m glad you did,” I answered immediately. “I hate that you’re carryin’ around the weight of that day, but I’m not sorry he’s gone.”

  Nate didn’t respond, he’d leaned his head back again. It was time to feed the good wolf.

  “Nate, you’re not your father.”

  “Yeah, I am, Poppy. You saw that for yourself tonight.”

  Still Poppy. Not Kitten.

  “Nate, listen to me. I’m not afraid—”

  “—You should go. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  He rose from his chair and turned on the lamp. After being in the dark so long, it blinded me. I held up my hand to block out the light, ready to do battle, but he turned and away without looking at me.

  “Nate, I’m not leavin’ until you listen to me. You don’t get to end the best thing that’s ever happened to me because you’re too stubborn to hear the truth. You saved me tonight. The only thing that scared me was the thought of losin’ you because you were in jail. I was scared, yes. But not of you. Never of you.”

  He finally turned to look at me, his eyes were dead, emotionless, and he stopped cold. His face registered shock at my appearance. I had no doubt I looked a mess.

  He took a step forward, scowling as he raked my body from head to toe, and I saw his anger spike. I raised my hand to stop him, not about to let him throw me out without saying my piece.

  “You know I died a little that night. Dragon took a lot from me, including my self-esteem. I was scared for years. Scared to let anyone in. I didn’t think I’d ever heal, ever feel clean again. I pretended for years to be normal. That I was like everyone else. I hid my panic attacks and shame from the world. Then you stormed into my life and forced me to face my demons. All of them. You made me feel beautiful. Wanted. Worthy.”

  “Poppy—”

  “I don’t freeze when you touch me,” I cried out desperately. “I crave your touch. I miss the scent of your skin when you’re gone. I can’t get close enough to you. I want to burrow inside you, so you’re always with me . . . Drown in you.”

  His brown eyes darkened black as pitch, and his nostrils flared. “Jesus, Kitten—” It was guttural and raw with emotion, but I cut him off.

  “You’re the best man I know, Nate. You’re nothin’ like him. Because of you, I’m free. But none of it means anythi
ng unless I still have you.” I swallowed hard and continued, “Don’t you understand? I could never be afraid of you because you’re the one who saved me from the darkness. Saved my life. I trust you, Nate, with my whole heart. With everything I am. I-I love you.”

  I wanted Nate to know I loved him before he made his decision, praying it would make a difference.

  He seemed stunned by my admission at first, then his face flashed with emotion, and he raised his hand and crooked his finger at me. “Get the fuck over here.”

  I moved immediately at his command. He crushed me into his body the moment I was in reach. I buried my face in his chest, then burst into tears, praying this wouldn’t be the last time he held me close. “I swear I’m not afraid of you,” I stated, holding onto him tighter. “Please don’t make me leave, my feet hurt.”

  Nate stiffened, then looked down at my feet and cursed under his breath, picking me up instantly. He carried me through his bedroom, setting me on the bathroom counter, then he turned on his tub, adding bubbles to the water. “What the hell happened to you?” he rumbled, lifting up one of my feet to inspect.

  “I didn’t have my car, so I chased you here on foot.”

  He looked up at me in shock. “You ran all the way here without shoes. In nothin’ but a fuckin’ T-shirt?” His words sounded like a question, but his tone said I was in big trouble.

  “I had to get to you,” I defended. “Devin told me to wait until mornin’, but I couldn’t let you think for one more minute that I’d ever been afraid of you.” I reached up and placed my hand on his jaw. I felt the muscle tense underneath my hand when I ran my thumb across his lips. “Please, Nate. Please don’t walk away from us. You promised me there’d be a happily ever after.”

  His eyes softened, and his attention shot to a tear trailing down my cheek. Raising a hand, he brushed it away tenderly while I waited for his answer. “You’re wrong, you know. I am like my father,” he whispered. “He couldn’t walk away from the woman he loved either.”