by Alison Bliss
“An explanation. Letters I wrote to you that I never mailed. Notes on things you can research. Other crucial pieces of information that will convince you I’m not the monster you think I am. My cell number is written on the inside. After you look through it, I’m sure you’ll have questions. Even if you don’t, but just want to talk, I’m here.” He headed for the door, but turned back as he reached it. “I’m not going to push you, Anna. You’re a smart girl. You know the truth about what happened.” He smiled lightly. “I’m glad you’re okay, baby girl.”
Then he disappeared.
I lifted the journal and heaved it across the room. Papers fell out, fluttering to the floor. I didn’t need to read the contents of that damn journal to know what was in it. It wouldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. And it wasn’t something I’d soon forget, since I had the physical and mental scars to remind me daily what had happened.
I cried, letting the memories overwhelm me.
Visits to the mental hospital. The number of pills taken to keep the demons at bay. The excitement over fire. The exhilaration around flames. The number of burn scars marring perfect porcelain skin. The animated expression while lighting matches in front of a child’s wide, fearful eyes. The panic-stricken scream after lighting one’s self on fire.
All of which belonged to one person.
My mother.
My father hadn’t been trying to take me away from her. He had tried to protect me from her. If only I hadn’t suppressed the one memory that would have kept him out of prison twenty-two years ago. That the moment the scuffle in our kitchen had begun, I’d opened the pantry door to help my mother. But what I’d seen left me dumbfounded and in a state of shock.
My mother repeatedly attacked my father, biting and clawing at him, while he’d done nothing to defend himself. He’d never laid a finger on her. Then, in the midst of her raging fit, my mother had picked up a cast iron skillet and cracked it against my father’s skull, knocking him backward into the living room.
Afterward, she calmly and quietly grabbed the bottle of cooking wine on the counter and poured it over her head before placing her wet sleeve over the open flame of the stove. She shrieked in pain as the flames consumed her, and I slammed the door on the pantry and curled into a ball, locking the images away in my mind.
Apparently, I’d blocked out the horror of what my mother had done to protect her memory, or possibly my sanity, but I couldn’t do it anymore. My mom had not been murdered by my father. She was a depressed, suicidal pyromaniac who had not only tortured her only child, but killed herself to escape the seduction of fire.
And even though I’d witnessed the whole thing, I still sent an innocent man to prison for almost twenty-two years. I didn’t know how he could forgive me for that. Or how I’d ever forgive myself.
An hour after my father left, a nurse came into the room.
“Can I see Cowboy now?” I asked, still stewing in guilt over what I’d done to my own father.
“His parents just arrived, and he’s only allowed two visitors at a time.”
“It might be a few more hours, then?”
She hesitated. “Well it might be a little longer than that. But I’m sure you’ll be able to see him in the next day or two.”
“Day or two?” I blinked at her as she chewed her lip. “What are you not telling me?” My mind swelled with horrific images of me at Cowboy’s funeral. “Oh God! Please tell me he’s okay.”
The nurse grasped my hand and gave it a hard squeeze. “No, no. He’s fine, I promise,” she said softly, looking as if she were mentally cringing at what she was about to tell me. “It’s just that…well, he doesn’t want to see you.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“That’s what he said. He said to tell you he was okay and that he’d talk to you in a couple of days once things settled down.”
I shook my head. “No, you’re wrong. You must’ve misunderstood him…or it’s the pain meds he’s on. Cowboy wouldn’t—”
She squeezed my hand again. “I’m sorry, honey. I heard him say it myself. He’s quite coherent and lucid about it.”
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“I can’t tell you that. He didn’t give his consent to give out his room number and we have to abide by patient orders when it comes to their privacy.” Her apologetic eyes gazed at me, trying to comfort me in my agitated state. “Just give him some time. I’m sure he’ll come around after a few—”
I shot off the bed, ran out of the room, and down the long hallway, desperately yelling Cowboy’s name. The nurse called after me, but I ignored her. Why would he say such a thing after everything we’d been through together? Had he been telling the truth about him and Mandy, after all? Had there been something between them?
As I made it to the end of the hallway, I was only vaguely aware of the hospital security guard behind me, chasing after me. He tackled me to the ground and held me there, while I fought against him, still screaming Cowboy’s name until my throat burned and I choked on my coughs. Tears streamed down my face.
It isn’t true. It isn’t.
Moments later, a doctor showed up wielding a syringe and stuck me in the arm. Within seconds, my strength weakened, my vision blurred, and my screams quieted. The last thing I remembered was everything going black.
I rapped lightly on the outside of the office door.
“Go away,” Cowboy said from the other side. “I’m busy.”
He might have left the hospital without saying a word, and avoided me for the last two days, but he wasn’t going to easily dismiss me now, not without facing me one last time. He owed me that much at least. So I pushed the door open.
Cowboy was sitting at the desk, but stood up with a dizzying speed. “Goddamnit. I said I was—” He blinked, looking much like he didn’t know what to say, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Um, hey.”
I stood at the door in a white sundress, twisting my fingers together nervously, not really sure how to respond, either. It was a moment I’d been dreading for days. Ever since I’d come to and was told Cowboy had checked himself out of the hospital early, against medical advice.
“Hi,” I said, my voice coming out much weaker than I meant for it to.
“What are you doing here?” The sound of his cool tone gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I mean, are you well enough to be out of the hospital?”
Guess we’re going to make small talk. Fine.
“I’m all right.” I gifted him a halfhearted smile, which was much more than the bastard deserved. “I tire a little easier right now since I’m still recovering from the smoke inhalation, but I’m managing.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, so I gazed across the room at something that caught my attention. Worn helmets lined the wall on display like some kind of shrine. “Why are all these firemen helmets different colors?”
“Each color stands for a different rank.” He walked over to the old, battered helmets lined up in a uniform row. “Black is for the regular crew and trainees, red is for the lieutenant, yellow is for the captain, and white is reserved only for the chief.”
“That’s right. I remember seeing your yellow captain’s helmet in your truck the night you gave me a ride home after the library fire.”
He looked down somberly, as if that was the last thing he wanted to think about. Or maybe remembering how this whole thing started between us was what bothered him. Lord knows he hadn’t been by to check on me after disappearing from the hospital two days ago.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Cowboy had left me completely in the dark as to what went wrong between us. No explanation at all. That’s why I was here now. To ask him what happened. Problem was, I couldn’t seem to do it.
He’d obviously made his decision to end things between us that day in the hospital when he refused to see me. Then he left me alone in the hospital and didn’t return, as if we hadn’t shar
ed anything special between us. Like I meant nothing to him. So the least he could do was explain himself.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” he said.
My brows lifted as my eyes met his. “Really?”
“Anna, I…I meant to come see you.”
“Guess you were too busy.”
He shook his head and rubbed at his neck. “I’ve just been thinking about things.”
“Things?”
“Us, I mean. You and me.”
I squinted at him in confusion. “What was there to think about?”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” He hesitated, as if he were trying to predict the outcome of what he was about to say. Just say it already. “I’ve come to the conclusion I don’t want to be one of those housetrained men.”
I stiffened at his remark. “Housetrained? I don’t think I follow you.”
“You know, one of those guys who sit at home every night with their woman and never have much of a life. I need some excitement and am starting to feel like I’m being cornered.”
Disbelief washed over me, and I blinked rapidly. “I don’t really know what to say to that. I thought you were okay with the way things were going between us. You seemed to be.”
“Well, I’m not.” Though I tried to stop it, I had no doubt the devastation showed on my face. Cowboy frowned, then turned away. “Look, I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“Wasted my—” I paused, not believing what I heard. No way was he getting off that easy. “Are you serious? That was supposed to be your heartfelt apology?”
Cowboy turned back to me and sighed. “I know we’re going to run into each other from time to time, with you being Bobbie Jo’s friend and all, so I think we should try to at least remain friends.”
“Y-you’re giving me the friend card after all we’ve…” My voice warbled and tears formed in my eyes. “Do you not even care how much you’re hurting me right now?”
His fingers gripped the corner of the desk until his knuckles turned white. “Damn it, I’m trying to give you a polite rejection, but you keep pushing. Anna, I’m not responsible for your feelings. We just got wrapped up in this and…” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if it pained him to continue. But that didn’t stop him from doing so. “I’m starting to get bored, okay?”
My hand slapped across his face so hard, his head turned. Probably harder than I even intended, but the bastard deserved it. And I wasn’t going to apologize. Not to him. Not after what he’d done to me. “You know, I guess you were right about one thing from the beginning, Cowboy. You are a piece of shit.” Then I turned and marched out of the office, slamming the door behind me.
I held my tears at bay until I pulled out of the fire station parking lot. Then I couldn’t stop them. Clenching the steering wheel tightly, I navigated the roads through misty eyes as I replayed Cowboy’s words in my head. My heart burst all over again.
He hadn’t felt anything for me the whole time. Only pretended long enough to get me into bed. Now that his mission had been accomplished, he was looking for a fun new toy to play with. Which kept me wondering if he hadn’t really snuck off to see Mandy the night of the fire, after all. Bastard.
The vague, pathetic excuses had left me unsatisfied until I pushed him into telling me the real reason he’d dumped me. The novelty of our relationship had worn off. Relationship. What a joke. Meaningless sex was hardly referred to as a relationship. But it hadn’t been meaningless. Not for me. Because I was in love with— Oh God! I was in love with…a selfish, arrogant prick!
Apparently, I had been for years. Only difference now was that I actually knew it. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Especially since I wasn’t even sure what had gone wrong. Maybe I’d come across too needy. Or maybe I…
No! This isn’t my fault. This is on him.
He had betrayed my trust, not the other way around. He had used me for sex and then calmly walked all over me like a doormat. Well, never again. Never again would I give my heart to a man…especially since I’d left all the broken pieces of mine at Cowboy’s feet.
Chapter Twenty-One
Several days later, I was sitting in my kitchen dishing out lemon cookies and Gatorade to my two unexpected guests when someone tapped on my front door. I excused myself momentarily and opened it to find Bobbie Jo on my front porch.
Her worried expression sent a jolt of panic through my system. “Bobbie Jo, is everything all right?”
“That’s what I was about to ask you,” she replied. “Since you left the hospital, I’ve tried to call you several times, but you haven’t answered. I guess I was just afraid you might have—”
“Left town?” I grinned at her, but shook my head. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve decided to stick around permanently.”
“What about Cowboy?”
Just hearing his name sent rage sloshing through my veins. Even though I walked out on him, he hadn’t bothered to try and contact me. And since he wasn’t willing to fight for me, I could only assume he was satisfied with letting me go.
“What about him? I don’t need his permission to stay where I have friends. I know we’re going to run into each other from time to time, and it will most definitely be awkward, but that’s just too damn bad. If he doesn’t like it, then he can avoid me.”
He said he wasn’t responsible for my feelings. Fine. Then I was sure as hell not responsible for his comfort level. The jerk.
“What about your father?”
“Oh, he’s still in town. My dad rented an apartment with the money he saved by working in the prison on kitchen detail. As an ex-convict, he was having a hard time finding a job, but Junior hired him as a line cook.”
“Are things…okay between you?”
“We’ve been talking and working through all of it. It’s a lot to take in, especially after believing something that wasn’t true for the last twenty-two years. But I think we’re heading in the right direction. And we’ve even started proceedings to get my father’s name cleared.”
A clang from the kitchen had both of us leaning inside to see what was going on. Joe and Clay Barlow sat there, tiny teacups in their giant hands, looking rather sheepish. “Sorry, Miss Anna,” Joe said. “We were fighting over the last cookie and this dipshit…um, I mean my brother…broke one of your plates. Don’t worry. We’ll clean it up.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that,” I replied, offering them both a sweet smile.
Bobbie Jo blinked as if she’d entered a different realm of existence. “The Barlow boys…in your kitchen…drinking herbal tea and…eating cookies?” Her brows raised a little higher with each pause.
“They’re taking a break.”
Bobbie Jo peeked inside again and the two hulking guys holding a broom and a dustpan gave her a quick wave. She shook her head and frowned. “A break from what…terrorizing you?”
“They didn’t terrorize me. I only thought they did. The moment I got home from the hospital, the two of them came over and apologized for not only what their sister had done, but how they’d behaved as well. They had no clue Mandy sent me threatening notes, much less that she misspelled them on purpose to frame her own brothers. She hadn’t known they were in jail when she kidnapped me, and I think they realize how lucky they were. It’s changed them.”
“What’s going to happen to her? Is she going to prison?”
“No. She failed her psychological evaluation. Mandy Barlow will spend her years locked away in a mental institution. It’s a fate worse than prison.”
“More memories coming back?”
“They all sort of rushed back at once. My mother lived in a dream world and had brainwashed me into believing I lived there as well. She kept me away from my father because she was afraid of losing me, which is why I think I blocked out all of the bad memories of her. I was afraid of losing her too.”
“Miss Anna, we’re going to get back to work now,” Clay said, lifting a large box from the living room
floor and carrying it out the door past us. I smiled at them as Joe grabbed another and followed his brother out.
“Thanks, fellas. You’re a big help.”
Bobbie Jo grimaced. “So if you’re staying, what’s up with the boxes?”
“Oh, I’m donating all my books to the library,” I said, motioning to the piles of cardboard boxes cluttering the walkway. “The boys are helping me with the heavy lifting and loading them into my car for me.”
“You’re truly okay, then?” she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“I’m fine,” I said, letting out a small sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone when you called. I guess I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Especially about Cowboy. Besides, there isn’t anything left to say.”
Bobbie Jo leaned on the railing and snorted. “He’s always been an idiot. This just proves it.” She shook her head in disgust. “I am sorry it didn’t work out. I don’t know exactly what happened between the two of you, but I’m betting that somewhere in there, he’s the one who somehow screwed this up and is kicking himself in the ass right about now.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s over.” I gave her a non-committal shrug and watched Joe and Clay shove the remaining box into my backseat. “Maybe in time Cowboy and I can still be fr—” A jacked-up red truck coming down the road halted my speech. Oh, great. Speak of the devil.
As the truck drew closer, my eyes met Cowboy’s. He slowed and waved, as if he were offering a friendly gesture to one of his neighbors. But if he expected me to wave back like we were friends, he could forget it. The only kind of gesture I was willing to give him consisted of one finger and wasn’t usually considered all that friendly. The jackass.
I turned my back on him for breaking my heart and started inside.
But before I made it through the door, his truck screeched to a halt just past my driveway. I whipped around to see him throw it in reverse and drive backward into the middle of my yard. Cowboy jumped out of his truck, glaring at the Barlow boys as they made their way back to the porch. “You two get the hell out of here and leave Anna alone!”