Exposed: An Anthology

by Brooke Cumberland

  On the front of the envelope, it simply says "When you're ready" in Ethan's messy handwriting. I always gave him shit for it, asking him how he could read the scribble he produced. He would laugh and admit that he couldn't. I smiled, remembering all the years of sweet memories we shared.

  I found the letter weeks after he died, when I was looking through one of his drawers. Knowing him, he'd probably hid it somewhere out of the way on purpose, knowing I’d need some time. Those first weeks of grief were...well, there were no words. When someone close to you dies, it feels like they take a piece of your very soul with them. There were days when all I could do was muster up the energy to breathe. I would have done anything and everything to have a small piece of him back. When I finally found the letter, digging through his drawers, looking for something I don’t even remember anymore, I looked at the words he’d scribbled down on the envelope and froze. Part of me wanted to rip the envelope open that second, but those three words kept me from doing so. For nearly three years that envelope had sat in my nightstand. On the nights when missing him would get too much to bear, I’d pull it out and run my fingers over the words Ethan had written, and feel like he was here with me. But to this day, I still couldn’t break the seal.

  "Ready for what, Ethan? How will I know?" I asked the silence. It didn’t answer back. It never did.

  Logan

  Sitting in my usual spot at the bar, I looked around at the quiet little pub I liked to frequent on the nights I wanted to be left alone. The bar was mostly empty tonight, as it was most nights, but that's why I liked it. You could settle yourself in the corner with a drink and disappear. And that is why I came to this city, after all. If I got the itch for something more...female, I would head downtown. But in here, I was left alone, to be whatever was left of me.

  "Hey Logan, you need another one?” Cindy, the bartender asked.

  "Sure, why not?" I hadn’t finished with the one I’d been nursing, but I was optimistic.

  "Save any lives today?" Cindy asked me that question every time I saw her. Settling into her mid-fifties, she had one of those voices that sounded like a truck driving over gravel, and her hair was hair-sprayed to the ceiling.

  "Nope. Slow night. But I did pull a Lego out of a kid’s nose. That was solid entertainment."

  She laughed, moving across the bar to get my new drink.

  Thinking about the hospital brought my thoughts circling back to the little girl with the strawberry curls and her beautiful mother, Clare. All evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. Especially Clare. I never thought a woman covered in vomit could be so appealing. Thinking about the conversation I walked in on with her friend still makes me chuckle under my breath. I needed to Google that Somerhalder dude. Was he an actor? I had no idea who she was talking about.

  "Cracking yourself up tonight, hun?" Cindy asked with a pointed gaze, dangling a freshly refilled drink before my eyes. "Maybe I need to keep this for myself, Doc?”

  Feeling bold due to the memories of Clare and the whiskey currently zinging through my veins, I blurted out, "Cindy, do you think everyone’s capable of love?”

  Surprised, she quickly answered, “Yes, I think everyone's capable of lovin’ another, why?”

  “Because I’m not so sure. How do you know?”

  I thought I was in love with Melanie. Hell, I’d even married her. But then I discovered the truth too late, trapping her in a loveless marriage, and driving her into the arms of another man.

  Cindy looked at me like I'd grown two heads. In the years I had visited this place, we’d had conversations all the time, but they never went beyond friendly banter and her relentless flirting. It was obvious she didn’t know what to do with the sudden onset of my liquid confessions.

  "You okay, hun? I know a man who wants to keep to himself, and I respect that, but you’re different tonight.” She looked at me, her eyes full of concern.

  “What’s got your emotions so ripped open all the sudden?”

  I completely froze. What was I doing? Bleeding my heart out to a middle aged bartender? It was ridiculous.

  Whatever I felt in that exam room today was over. Clare was gone, and I needed to get on with my life. Love didn’t happen in an instant. Especially for me. And that woman, shit...any decent woman, didn't deserve the train wreck of life that would come with becoming involved with me. No need to introduce someone else to a life of Logan sized failures and fuck ups. I would stick to what I was good at, what everyone expected of me.

  "Sorry, Cindy. Must be the whiskey talking. Just rambling. Anyway, I'm out."

  I threw a couple twenties on the bar and slid on my jacket.

  "I'm headed downtown to start some trouble," I said, forcing a grin to spread, before heading out the door.

  Enough thinking for tonight.

  Chapter Four

  Clare

  God, I hated home improvement stores.

  As I lifted Maddie into the oversized shopping cart, I looked around in fear at the enormous store and asked myself what the hell I was getting myself into. Hopefully, I could find one of those old grandfatherly type men who work here who could walk me through this. Otherwise, I was screwed. Before his stroke, my Dad could have help with this sort of thing, but he'd lost so much control in his hands that handiwork was out of the question these days.

  My brother, Garrett, was pretty well trained in the art of fixing things, but was currently out of town on an extended business trip. My little brother, the executive. It still cracked me up. Just a few years ago, he was an irresponsible frat boy and now he worked for a major pharmaceutical company, traveling all over the world.

  "All right Maddie, let's see what kind of trouble we can get ourselves into today!" I exclaimed, glancing down at her sweet face as I pushed the cart into the first set of aisles.

  In the last few days she had completely recovered. It was like the concussion never happened, except when I delivered the bad news about ballet class. No physical activity for a week. That hadn’t gone over well. She had since been counting down the days until she could return to class the following week. Her absence from class hadn’t kept her from dressing in tutus and leotards every day. She’s such a girl. Who says you can't watch movies in a tutu? Certainly not me.

  About fifty aisles in, I was lost. How big was this store? The entire place smelled like a giant wood chipper, so they had to have wood, right?

  “Maddie, we need to find the aisle that has all the wood in it. Can you help Mommy out and look for it?” I asked.

  Her head bobbed up and down, eyes full of glee. She thought it was a game. This routine worked in grocery stores, as well. It saved me hours of sanity.

  Seriously, am I stupid?

  I should have been able to find this stuff, and where were these helpful employees they always advertised? I looked around, but all I saw were intimidating looking men who seemed to know exactly where they were going and what they needed. I, on the other hand, seemed to have made a complete circle and had arrived in the exact same spot I was five minutes ago. This was a disaster.

  "Dr. Matthews!" Maddie screeched.

  My head whipped around to see Maddie waving at the man who had “saved her head.” Her words, not mine.

  She talked about him a lot since her visit to the hospital. Apparently, he made quite an impression with her because most men intimidated her. For as long as she could remember, it had just been her and me. It broke my heart that her memories of Ethan were fading. For her, he will only ever be a picture or a bedtime story. But Dr. Matthews was different. Somehow, in a very short period of time he had been able to break down her walls and she felt safe and secure with him. To her, he’d saved her in that ER. She went to the hospital sick and miserable and he made her better. He was her new hero.

  Dr. Matthews, my daughter’s knight in shining armor, was reaching for something on one of the lower shelves, giving me a nice view of his perfect ass, when he heard Maddie’s cry. His head rose, searching and finally f
ound us. He appeared momentarily startled, but then gave Maddie a dazzling smile. Damn, that man should smile all the time. Stretching his lean body to full height, he rose, and walked our way, waving back at Maddie who was bouncing up and down in the cart.

  "Hey there, princess, looks like your head is back to normal," he said, gently patting the top of her head, sending her into a fit of giggles.

  "Yep, but Mommy says I still can't dance for four more days!” the agony apparent in her voice, like I was torturing her. I just rolled my eyes.

  “But she still lets me wear my tutu. And, she's gonna make me my very own ballet barre for my room!" she said, beaming at me. Now I was the hero again. Kids’ moods could give you whiplash.

  Oh God, this was going to be a disaster. Seriously, where were all the damn employees in this store? Do you think they offer installation for this type of thing?

  "Wow, that's impressive. Your mother must be very handy," he said, glancing over to me for the first time. And he doesn’t just glance, he roams, his eyes taking their time traveling over my body. I don’t know how he did it, but that single look had me melting into a puddle. But then, I think anyone staring into those eyes would be in the same position.

  His blue eyes were stunning, and so pale, almost bordering on gray. Lips curved into a small grin, with a hint of mischief, he looked like he already figured out my little secret regarding this disaster of a project.

  "No, actually, Dr. Matthews, I am the exact opposite of handy. I'm actually wandering around aimlessly, hoping to find an employee who will tell me what I need to do," I confessed, confirming his suspicions.

  "Call me Logan,” he said. “And that would explain why you are in the plumbing section." He added, laughing. Looking around at the toilets and pipes, I blushed, "Guilty." I said, before joining him in a laugh.

  "Mommy says she's good at all sorts of stuff, but building and fixing stuff isn't one of them," Maddie said.

  Sobering a bit, but still very amused, he looked at me with those crystal blue eyes again, making me shiver.

  "I’d really love to discover some of those hidden talents.”

  Oh, hot damn.

  Logan

  What did I just fucking say?

  Shit, I should not be allowed in public anymore. I had just dropped the lamest pick-up line ever, in the middle of the home improvement store, right in front of Clare’s daughter, no less. Thank God Colin hadn’t been around to witness that little slice of failure. I would never have lived it down.

  Dear God, this woman made me crazy.

  I never expected to see her or Maddie again. I tried to make myself forget about that night in the hospital, telling myself she deserved better. And she did. But as hard as I tried, those searing green eyes kept making their way back into my thoughts, reminding me of a woman who had shown me another path. A path that could have been possible if I were a different man. If I were capable of giving myself over to another, but you have to have a whole heart to do that, and I’m pretty sure mine was never fully formed.

  But looking up at those now familiar eyes, I felt the tension ease in my chest, and the ice loosened a bit. Seeing Clare again felt exactly the same. It gave me a deep sense of being connected and tethered. Having come from the family I did, it wasn’t something I’d ever felt with anyone, and therefore I was having a difficult time trusting myself around her. I tried returning to my life, resuming my normal routine, only to be haunted by her face; a constant reminder of what I could never have.

  After the quiet little pub the other night, I went downtown, finding a spot that was the exact opposite of the one I had just left. I played the part of carefree bachelor, buying rounds of drinks, doing body shots with a few overly eager women. I had every intention of following one of them home. By the end of the night, after most people had made it home, I had a young brunette pushed against the dirty brick wall of the bar, waiting for a cab to take us to her apartment. I didn’t know her name, and I didn’t care. I wouldn’t be around by morning anyway. My hand slid down her bare thigh and pulled it around my hip. She looked at me, seductively licking her lips, her not so subtle way of giving me permission to do whatever I want, wherever I want. It was then that I looked into her eyes and saw...nothing. The brown eyes staring back at me were full of lust, but nothing else. They were the same blank eyes that I had been looking into ever since Melanie. Since her, I’d survived by seeking out women who gave nothing in return. Because it was all I could give back.

  Knowing the eyes staring back at me weren’t the ones I wanted, I pushed away from the brunette as the cab pulled up to the curb. Cursing under my breath, I didn’t even give her an explanation, just threw her some cash and walked away.

  "Well, we should let you get back to whatever you were doing. I’m sure you are busy," Clare said.

  "No, actually. I was mostly done. I just needed a small part for my sink,” I answered, holding up my purchase while nervously wrapping my other hand around the nape of my neck.

  All right asshat, stop being creepy. Time to leave.

  "I could help you,” I blurted out. “I've been known to be handy on occasion. I could help you shop, and then install it for you.” The words continued to free-fall out of my mouth, without any sign of stopping.

  "Oh my God, are you sure?” Clare gasped in relief. I liked creating that feeling in her.

  ”I don't want to take up your day off. But I would be lying if I said I didn't need the help," she confessed as she nervously bit her bottom lip. Fuck, she was gorgeous. Her hair was pulled to the side today, in a loose ponytail. She dressed casual, in tight fitting jeans and a black sweater that hugged her body. If she had any makeup on, it was subtle because all I could see were the freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones.

  "No, I don't mind at all. I’m happy to help,” I assured, before turning to Maddie.

  “Every ballerina needs a ballet barre. A safe one that doesn't cause any accidents." Tilting my chin down, I gave Maddie a meaningful look, followed by a wink.

  My effort was rewarded when Maddie broke into a fit of giggles again, and I couldn’t help but smile. She's adorable, and her enthusiasm is infectious.

  Clare had done a wonderful job raising Maddie on her own. I snuck another glance toward Clare, seeing her eyes light up as she watched her young daughter. She absently ran her hand through Maddie’s hair, something I saw her do in the hospital, and my eyes focused on her ring finger. I know from hospital records that the wedding ring on Clare’s hand is in memoriam only. She listed Maddie's father as deceased. Call me a jerk, but after seeing her in that exam room, I checked. I don't know the specifics, but considering her age, her loss couldn't have been easy.

  Helping her with this small thing was the least I could do. I knew it wasn’t the real reason I was doing it, but it was the excuse I was giving myself at that moment.

  "All right," Clare said, "Lead the way, foreman!"

  Chapter Five

  Logan

  "I'm going to run upstairs and change quickly so I don’t ruin my sweater. Just make yourself at home and I'll be right back,” Clare said before walking upstairs to what I assumed was her bedroom. I was left standing alone in her family room. Maddie had already skipped off to her bedroom, intent on changing, too. Something about how Mommy didn’t let her wear tutus to the store.

  Clare and Maddie lived not too far from me, in one of the smaller towns outside of Richmond. In a town like this, it was hard to believe there was a state capitol nearby. It was quaint, quiet, and full of large, aged trees and picket fences. With the warm feeling of a small town, it was still close enough to enjoy all the qualities of the city. Clare’s neighborhood was full of large houses, ice cream trucks and kids on bicycles. I could see why she and her husband would have picked this neighborhood. It was an ideal place to raise a family.

  I wandered around the room, checking out the large red couch, trying to imagine Clare and Maddie snuggled together, watching a movie. The walls were covered i
n photographs from all over the world, a castle in Ireland, the Great Wall of China, and a palace in Russia. Maybe Clare wanted to travel the world someday? A sudden fierce desire to be the man to take her consumed me and I quickly tried to dispel it.

  I was not the man for her. Broken people like me didn’t deserve perfection.

  There was a large fireplace in the room, displaying at least a dozen photographs. With my curiosity getting the better of me, I walked over for a better look.

  The first photograph was Clare with her arms wrapped around a man, who, I guessed, was her husband. At the beach, waist deep in water, they were wrapped around each other and laughing. He looked in his element, blonde hair and a deep tan. He could have passed for a surfer. Clare, with red hair and freckled skin was practically glowing next to him. Their love was obvious.

  Trying to keep myself from feeling jealousy toward a dead man, I moved on.

  The next picture was Maddie. Even as an infant, I recognized her. She was being held by an older woman who resembled Clare. She had the same green eyes and dark hair, now streaked with gray. There was also a photo of Clare with another younger man, dressed in a cap and gown. The two intertwined in an embrace like brother and sister. The last photo I saw was Clare on her wedding day. She was breathtaking. Standing alone in a garden, she wore a strapless gown covered in tiny crystal beads, with her hair falling loosely behind her, pulled back by a simple veil. Holding a small bouquet of flowers by her side, she turned slightly away from the camera, but you could still see her expression. It was full of absolute, consuming joy.

  So much history and love was on this mantle. Clare’s family was obviously tight. If someone were to look at my family's mantle, they would find one overpriced posed portrait of my father and step-mother, with nothing else, except some pricey antiques. There were no loving photos of my parents and their children, no proud moments on display for everyone to see. Hell, I’m pretty sure I don’t even exist to the man I called father anymore. You only got one shot with him, and I’d blown mine the day my divorce hit the papers.