Break Your Heart

by Rhonda Helms

  My lungs squeezed. “No pics,” I forced out. “It’s not like that.”

  Casey’s eyes lingered on mine for a long moment. Then she turned her attention to the stereo remote and clicked forward a couple of songs. “Okay, if Megan wants to talk about Brett, she will. What do you guys want to listen to? I have a massive music collection, so hit me with some requests.”

  I shot her a grateful smile as the conversation turned away from me and on to our favorite bands. I cleared our empty ice-cream bowls and lingered in the kitchen to wash them. My stupid hands were trembling from the near brush of confrontation. The phone was pressed in the waistband of my pants, out of sight and on vibrate.

  Why hadn’t I pieced together a cover story before now?

  Because arrogantly, I’d assumed no one would care what I was doing. I didn’t hold myself accountable to others for the most part—I was an adult, and I did what I wanted. But I should have known Casey would notice.

  She was a quiet person in general, though opening up more and more every day. She saw things others didn’t see. I needed to be more careful around her, or else I was going to slip up.

  After I finished washing the bowls and spoons, I dried my hands and checked the text.

  I hope you’re having a good evening. Just wanted to say hi and I was thinking about you.

  This guy had worked his way into my heart with devastating speed. I was so falling for him, and there was no way for me to stop it. And if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t want to stop it.

  All the secrecy, all the anxiety, was worth every second of being close to him, even if it was chewing away at me more and more each day. Because I knew there was an end date in sight. I just had to hang in there until then.

  I was thinking about you too, I wrote back.

  My phone buzzed a moment later. Hopefully good things. ;-)

  All good things. What are you up to?

  Going to a dinner tonight to celebrate a colleague’s retirement at the end of the semester. Should be fun. But not really. :-P

  I laughed under my breath. Don’t forget to wear your tweed jacket. You wanna make sure you fit in with the other uptight profs. . . .

  A moment later, I got a pic back of Nick with a pipe clenched in his mouth.

  Where did you get that pipe? And please tell me you’re taking it w/you tonight.

  My dad gave it to me as a gift when I got my doctorate. I haven’t used it yet—not sure why he thought I’d want a pipe.

  Uh, because they’re awesome?? I wrote back. Not that I’d used one before, but they seemed distinguished anyway.

  I won’t be getting home until 10 or so tonight. Wish I could see you. My house is so quiet without you here.

  My heart softened. An echo of what Casey had said to me earlier about the empty apartment, but with a different connotation altogether.

  I missed him too. I just saw him this afternoon, but I wanted to see him again. It was so tempting to show up at his place, but I didn’t want to be a creeper. Not to mention smothering him would only make him grow tired of me.

  I typed, Let’s do something fun this weekend. Maybe we can drive out of town for the day. Go to Pittsburgh? Columbus? Detroit? What do ya say?

  I say I’m in. Night, Megan.

  I smiled, tucked the phone away and dried the dishes, my heart soaring as I listened to the girls talking and giggling in the living room.

  “Order up!” the fry cook called out.

  I shuffled over to the kitchen window and took the two plates, loaded with sandwiches and fries. When I put them on the table, the customers gave me a grateful smile. “Let me know if you guys need anything else,” I said. “Enjoy!”

  They began to dig in with gusto. I stepped away and busied myself with straightening up around the shop for the next twenty minutes. Almost off my shift for the day—and it was Friday afternoon too, which meant I had a relaxing evening ahead with no homework on the horizon, nothing to make me feel stressed out.

  And tomorrow, Nick and I were driving to Detroit for a day of exploring. I was so excited to have the opportunity to walk around with him, holding his hand, kissing him . . . not having to worry that we’d get busted by someone we know.

  A chance to see what an open relationship would feel like with him.

  When my shift was done, I tucked away my apron, gathered my purse and left. I dug into the pocket on the side and felt for my phone. Tugged it out, ready to send Nick a message saying hi.

  I saw I had a voice mail.

  From my mom.

  My stomach clenched so tight, I thought I was going to throw up. There could be only one reason she’d called me. Yesterday I’d spent an hour on the phone with my dad, discussing at length what had happened with Mom. The research I’d done online about pill abuse and its slippery slope that often led to other drugs being abused.

  When I’d dropped on him that he had to let her go from the job site, he’d sighed heavily and said he knew. He had an engineer friend he could approach and ask to take over. I could hear the pain in his voice, and I knew this had to be causing him no small amount of agony.

  Apparently it had happened.

  My hands shook so hard, it was difficult to navigate my way to the voice mail. The message was a terse “Call me, Megan. Immediately.” That was it.

  I spent the whole walk home trying not to drown in anxiety. She sounded angry.

  I waited until I got inside the apartment and in my room before I called her back. She picked up immediately.

  “Seriously? I cannot believe you.” Mom started in on me without even saying hello. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard this much anger pouring from her voice. It nearly singed me through the phone line. “How dare you go behind my back with your father like this. You are a child—”

  “Excuse me?” I interrupted. Anger made my hands tremble now, not fear. “Last time I checked, I was an adult. Not a child. And I’m free to do whatever I think is right. How dare you show up to work drugged out of your mind! Do you even realize how wrong that is, how you could have endangered yourself, other contractors, even students? Yet you’re blasting me about your mistakes? What if you’d been caught? What if you’d caused someone to get hurt? Did you ever think about that?” The words rushed out of me, fast and loud.

  “You have no idea what’s going on,” she shot back. “You made a snap decision without taking the time to evaluate what the consequences were.”

  “So fill me in. Why did you have a bunch of hidden pills around your house, Mom? Why are you taking medication that isn’t in your own name? I’d really like answers.” My voice wobbled with emotion.

  “Do you realize I’ve been fired? By your father—who’s my own husband? And he replaced me with some idiot who doesn’t know anything about this project. I’ve put countless hours into the plans, only to have it yanked away without even a discussion. Total bullshit.” The fact that she was busting out curse words meant she was good and worked up. “Instead of talking to me about it, you colluded with him, and you’ve caused serious damage, both to my career and to my marriage. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

  That last comment stung. I blinked back a rush of tears. “Actually? I am. Because I see a woman who needs help and won’t admit it. And at least I did something about it.”

  There was silence for so long, I thought maybe she’d hung up or put the phone down and walked away.

  “Mom,” I continued in a quieter tone. It was hard to keep my voice even when I was feeling so ragey, so upset. “You’re stronger than this. I don’t understand it at all.”

  “I don’t have a problem. You have no idea what you’re talking about. And I don’t have to justify my actions to you or anyone.” She sounded mulish as she spoke.

  I sighed. What could I say in response? She was determined to shut down everything I said. “I just need you to listen to me, to talk to me. Without getting defensive. Please.” I pressed the heel of my other hand to my brow, where a head
ache was starting to form.

  The coldness in her voice chilled me. “You crossed a line, Megan. I’m furious with you. I can’t believe you’d betray me like this. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you’ve done to me.”

  The line clicked, and the call ended.

  Chapter 17

  I moved with a singular focus. Crammed my phone in my purse. Dug my keys out and rezipped my coat, which had been hanging open. Locked the apartment behind me and just . . . walked. No destination in mind.

  The air was bracing, and the weak sun did little to penetrate the cold. A late winter snap was setting in, and the temperature felt like it had dropped several degrees even since I’d gone inside earlier.

  I welcomed the cold, focused on its bite on my cheeks. A creeping numbness had edged its way into my bones, spread through my veins and muscles. In all the arguments I’d had with my parents, not one had ever gone down like that.

  I’d never been so thoroughly blasted by my mother or had her tell me she didn’t think she could forgive me for what I’d done. Was she right? Should I have talked to her first?

  But I had, kinda. I’d asked her before, back in the trailer, why she had those pills. And she’d fed me some story that most likely wasn’t true; it was possible the ear infection thing had been a total lie. She was hiding pills all over the house. She had to know what she was doing was wrong.

  I wasn’t at fault here. I knew that, logically. But the guilt and anger and fear still shocked me so hard I could barely feel anything. It was like all my emotions had collided into one blinding blast that left me shell-shocked.

  I proceeded at a steady pace toward the math building. I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings. Didn’t hear student conversations. All I heard was my mom’s bitter voice, echoing in my head.

  I swept inside the building, turned down the hall on autopilot toward Nick’s office. I wasn’t sure if he was still on campus, but if he was, I wanted to see him. Needed to have his arms around me and crack away the cold that had penetrated my bones. The numbness had spread so deeply in me that I couldn’t seem to care about anything right now. Not about people seeing me walk toward his office and what they might think. The secrecy around him and our relationship didn’t seem to matter, not in this moment. Who gave a shit? My mom was messed up and she hated me now, and I couldn’t get her scornful words out of my head.

  Nick was the only one who could do that for me.

  My fist shook just a touch when I knocked on his door. When it opened, I just stood there in the doorway, staring at him.

  The smile that had been on his face when he realized it was me slid away immediately. “Megan, you okay? Come in.”

  I entered, and he closed and locked the door behind us. My legs gave out and I collapsed into his guest seat. He leaned against his desk, not saying anything, just keeping that steady gaze fixed on me.

  “My dad took my mom off the dorm room project,” I started. My lungs were so tight, it hurt to draw in a breath, and my back bowed with tension. “She called me, angry. Lashed out at me for what I did to her job and her marriage with my dad. Then she said she didn’t think she could ever forgive me.” At that last part, my voice broke. In the warmth of his sunlight I was beginning to thaw, just a touch. The pain seeped in the cracks.

  His eyes softened in sympathy. He reached a hand over and took my icy fingers in his. “I’m so sorry.”

  The fact that he didn’t immediately try to tell me everything would be okay, or that I did the right thing even if it hurt at the moment, filled me with a small rush of relief. We both knew it was right; he didn’t feel the need to rub it in, vocalize it.

  My throat felt raw and sore. He moved toward me at the same time I stood, and our arms wrapped around each other. A rush of tears flew out of my eyes, streaming down my cheeks, drenching his dress shirt. He didn’t care, just kept those strong arms encasing me, those soft lips pressing gentle kisses to my forehead.

  I didn’t know how long we stood there. I just knew that minute by minute, that dreadful ache in my heart started to fade. In its place was this man who took the pain away. I would focus on him, on this, and shut out my mom’s voice for now.

  Nick leaned his head closer to my ear and whispered, “You are one of the strongest, most intelligent women I’ve ever met. We’ll get through this.”

  We. As in, not just me alone.

  I peeled off my coat and tossed it on the chair behind me. Wrapped my arms around him again, our bodies pressed together, my heart throbbing almost painfully. “I don’t feel strong right now, especially since I just cried all over you.”

  “Strength doesn’t mean doing everything alone,” he replied in a smooth voice. “It can also mean knowing when you need help. Even if it’s just another person to talk to.”

  I nodded, stared up into his eyes. The little flecks of black in the dark brown irises I had grown to know so well. The slight lines that fanned out on the outsides. The light dusting of facial hair that emerged as day transitioned to night.

  Now my throat tightened for a different reason, and my heart pounded. Tears flecked the ends of my eyelashes, and I reached up to wipe them away.

  His thumb came up to stroke my jaw. The gesture made my heart flare. The thumb swept across my lower lip, and I sighed, parted my mouth slightly.

  I didn’t want to be sad or hurt anymore. I wanted to feel good. With him. Right now. Damn the consequences. Damn the risks.

  “My mom’s brother is an alcoholic,” he said suddenly. His breaths mirrored mine, shallow and uneven. His eyes turned down a bit in the corners. “He’s struggled with it for years, since I was a little kid. Hiding bottles all over the house, drinking when no one was around. Showing up to family dinners drunk. A few years ago, his wife ended up leaving him, taking their son with her.”

  “I just don’t understand it,” I told him as I shook my head. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “If we’re not addicted to something, I don’t think we can ever understand. Every once in a while he surfaces in my life. Seems sober for a while, and I start to think it might be different. Then he goes on a bender, which makes him beat himself up and sends him deeper down the rabbit hole. Not to mention he’s too stubborn to stay in a rehab facility when he actually does try to get help. He keeps checking himself out early, saying he’s fine, but then he falls back into it again after a while. My family gets so mad.” I heard the undertone of hurt in his voice and reached up to stroke the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, leaned into my touch. “Yanno, I don’t ever talk about this with anyone because I don’t want people to judge him, if that makes sense.”

  “Totally. I haven’t told anyone about my mom. No one but you.”

  He looked at me and blinked. His lips pressed together. “I hope you know I’m not judging you. Or her. I’m glad your dad is there to support her and that he’s taking this seriously, because I didn’t want to go to the administrators about this. It’s gonna be rough while she recovers, but if she’s half as smart as the daughter she’s raised, she’ll take a step back and realize she’s hurting the people around her, not to mention herself.”

  I couldn’t help it; I leaned up on my toes and kissed him.

  It was soft and unassuming at first, just a brushing of lips against each other. More of a gesture of mutual comforting than anything else. Then something shifted between us, a charge of electricity that crackled in the air.

  I clenched his collar a fraction tighter and heard his sigh, the exhaled air softly caressing my mouth. Then he leaned in for another kiss. Nudged my lips open with a swipe of his tongue and tasted me.

  All my tension and anxiety fell away as I gave in to the moment. Our arms wrapped around each other, bodies pressed together. Everything about him intoxicated me. I couldn’t get enough.

  “God, you drive me crazy, Megan,” he rasped as he ran his tongue along my jaw. “But I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re upset. We should stop.” He started to pu
ll away.

  I gripped him tighter. “No, don’t. Please.” I knew I sounded pleading, but I didn’t care. “I need you.” I pressed a hard kiss to his mouth, willing him with everything in me to keep going. My body was almost shaking with desire. The pain had faded away, and all I could feel was the ache of my hunger for him.

  Nick groaned; I could see the conflict on his face for just a moment before he gave a look that seemed close to surrender. His voice was husky when he said, “Something about you is so tempting. I can’t resist you. And I don’t want to.” He sucked my lower lip into his mouth, and I rubbed my breasts along his chest. Opened to him and dragged my fingers through his hair.

  “Then don’t,” I whispered, letting my arousal show clearly in my voice, my face, my body. I didn’t want him to push me away. I wanted him to remind me how to feel good.

  We kissed for I wasn’t sure how long, just losing ourselves in each other. His hands gripped my hips, kneaded the rounded flesh of my butt. I dropped a hand to cup his hardness, and his erection twinged beneath my exploring fingers.

  Nick ripped his mouth away. “You’re playing with fire, baby.”

  The words made me shiver. I fingered the zipper of his slacks, then lowered them. Slid my hand into the slit and stroked him with just his briefs separating our flesh. It wasn’t enough. I fumbled with the pants button and undid it, exposing more of his length to me.

  I could almost feel his pulse in my hand. His breathing became ragged, panting. He didn’t speak, just stood there, fingers tight on my ass.

  “I want you right now,” I said in a harsh whisper. “Please.”

  The pulse on the side of his throat jumped. A dark gleam lit in his eyes. “We’re in my office. Someone could knock on the door at any moment.”

  “We can be quiet,” I promised. “No one will know.” I turned back against the desk and spread my legs to nestle him between my thighs.

  His body was hot and hard. He lifted my ass and dropped me on the edge of the desk. I wrapped my legs around him. “We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered in my ear before slicking his tongue along the flesh.