Tempting Fate

by Brinda Berry

  Sharpest tool, you jerk. I slump to the floor. Shawn is idiotic enough to believe he can get away with anything and he probably will. “Why are you calling me?”

  “Maybe it’s because you should get home for a visit more often.” His words are deliberate and slow. Taunting.

  “I’m not coming home.”

  “Not even to see Gunner?” He practically sings the question. He knows he only has to mention my brother to get my attention.

  I’m quiet now. He’s the cat and I’m the mouse, afraid to move for fear of being spotted.

  Shawn hesitates. “Maybe you should come talk to me in person about Gunner. Did you know what your brother keeps in his room? Ah, you should see what a mess it is.”

  I suck in air and reach out a hand to steady myself against the wall. “Leave Gunner alone.”

  “Gunner’s not doing too well these days. Maybe you should come home and check on him.”

  “Shawn,” I whisper. A shudder racks my body.

  “Where are you living these days? Is it far?” His voice is gentle, reasonable, and at the same time, on the same sidewalk as crazy.

  “Not too far. I can come home.” Hot tears run down my cheeks. There is no way Gunner would give him my phone number willingly. “Shawn, tell me what you need.”

  “I’ve missed you so bad. I want you to get all your things and come home. Bring your shit and come home right now.”

  “Shawn? Where are you?” I bite back a sob.

  “Baby, are you crying?” he asks, his pleased tone forcing me to deny it.

  “No. I’m only sad. I’d like to hear if Gunner’s okay and I want to see you.” My fingers trace my bottom lip and then my top and then I rub so hard the bottom one cracks and I taste blood.

  “You still there?” he asks.

  “Sure I am.” I pull my knees up tight against my chest. “I’ll leave now. I’m walking out to get in my car.”

  “Don’t leave anything there because you aren’t going back. Bring your clothes and shit and come home.” His loud voice pokes holes through my ability to think clearly.

  “Okay,” I say and pause to grab the suitcase from the bed. My lungs constrict at the thought of Collin coming to the loft tomorrow to find me gone.

  “Don’t hang up, baby. I don’t want you to do something stupid and if you keep talking to me it will be all right. Understand?”

  I grab my purse in one hand and my suitcase in the other. Each step feels like I’m walking death row. Luckily, my car has gas and I won’t have to make any stops.

  My heart is slowly dying as I back out of the parking space behind the office building. How long will it be before Collin discovers I’ve left? He’ll think I ran out on him.

  I press my knuckles to my mouth.

  A sudden rap against my driver’s window forces me to slam my foot on the brake pedal. Malerie motions for me to roll the glass down. “Hey, I forgot my sunglasses inside. Where are you going?”

  “I… I need to go to home.” My hands tremble on the steering wheel.

  “Why?” Her sharp gaze studies me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t talk now, Mal. I’ll call you soon. I have to go.” I suck in a deep breath and press the gas pedal. I glance up to see Malerie in my rearview mirror.

  I numbly drive to the interstate leading home and pick my cell up from the console. The battery charge is dwindling fast. “Shawn, I’m coming. It will be a couple of hours. Tell me where to go. My cell probably won’t last the whole trip.”

  “Go to your trailer. I think that’s the best place for what needs to happen.”

  Needs to happen? Shawn has a plan and the thought sends acid swirling in my belly.

  I grip the steering wheel with one hand, my fingernails biting into the leather wrap cover, and try to ground my thoughts. If I stop somewhere, he’ll know.

  “Shawn?”

  “Baby?”

  “I’m going to be there, but what do you want to do when I get there? We could, you know, hang out—”

  “Veronica?” His voice is terse.

  “What?”

  “I’m not stupid. That’s what you think, isn’t it? Poor stupid Shawn. I realize you strung me along. You did the same thing to Gunner—which is all kinds of messed up since you two are related. And then you go and find a new boyfriend. That’s what you did, isn’t it? You’re a user.”

  My eyes fill with tears. How much can one person cry? I drag the back of my hand holding the phone across my face. “Shawn—”

  “I’m finished talking. I want you to drive to the trailer as fast as you can and if you’re lucky, someone will be there to talk to you. Gunner might be okay, and he might not…”

  I whimper into the back of my hand, hoping he won’t hear it. “Okay.”

  It takes two hours before I see the signs for Shelby City. I pass no one on the highway and wonder if I should find a weapon. My phone is dead and my tears dried.

  My choices seem clear. Save Gunner. Save myself. Survive.

  I stop a mile from home on the side of the highway. There has to be something useful in my car. I pop the trunk and get my tire jack.

  I place it on the driver’s side floor and get back into the car. As I maneuver up the gravel drive, I realize my planning is too late. I should’ve played some of those zombie video games with Gunner and his friends.

  Shawn stands in the driveway as if waiting for me to pull up. I consider running over him, but I’m not sure where Gunner is. His truck isn’t parked in front.

  I put the car in park and turn off the engine. There are weeds around the driveway, a stupid thing for me to notice. Shawn gives me a feral smile. He saunters forward and I lean forward, feeling for the jack.

  He opens my door quickly and I pull my hand up to my lap.

  I sit for a moment, steeling my nerves, praying for strength. “Hi,” I say when he only stares at me with a satisfied expression.

  “I really missed you.” His genuine tone startles me.

  I nod and put one foot on the gravel. If I can get that jack, I’ll knock him out. His hands snake out and grab my throat much too fast. I hadn’t been ready for him.

  His fingers tighten and I instinctively push against his chest until he presses so hard I see tiny black dots. I kick my foot against air.

  Survive.

  I stop fighting, although every cell in my body screams not to.

  And like a small miracle, his fingers release my neck. I fall on my knees and gasp for oxygen.

  He rubs the top of my head while I gasp for several seconds. I remain on the ground and look up at him.

  His boot catches me in the jaw and my head snaps back. I roll on the ground, stunned at the sheer intensity of the pain. It feels like shards of glass embedded in every inch of my body, pressing in to cut the nerves.

  He’s going to kill me. I guess I thought I’d rush in and save Gunner. I’d hoped Shawn would only do something to humiliate me like when he’d put me in the shower.

  I put a hand on the ground to lift my head and hear in a boxing ring announcer’s voice, “Stay down. Stay down.”

  But it’s Shawn’s voice. So I listen and rest my cheek on the sharp gravel.

  “Don’t move from that spot,” he says. “It’s so hot today. I think I want to go inside and grab a drink.”

  The conversation is reminiscent of ours on the fourth of July. Bile rises up and bubbles at the back of my throat.

  No, if Gunner’s inside I don’t want Shawn there. I open one eye to see if I’ve missed Gunner’s truck. The unkempt grass and the missing vehicle scare me even more.

  Fierce anger coils deep and knocks on the door of my subconscious. I drag myself up and my head protests, my jaw pulsing. Maybe I can get to my car for the jack. Is it heavy enough to knock Shawn on the ground?

  He’s still inside the trailer and an engine sounds in the distance. A car on the highway. It passes by and I close my eyes.

  “Baby? You still in there?” Shawn’s on his
haunches and holding me by the shoulders.

  I blink. “Yeah.” A trickle of something wet runs from my nose.

  “Good,” he says. “You’re doing real good.”

  Shawn picks me up and I feel weightless, my bones holding together skin and muscle no longer attempting to function. I’m vaguely aware he’s taking me into the trailer. The air conditioner blows air over my face and wakes me.

  “Shawn,” I whisper. “Can I talk to you?”

  He nods. “Good girl. Thank you for asking. Go ahead.”

  I attempt a grateful smile because I’m playing the sick game he plays. I’m not dead yet. And I’m going to make you wish you never met me.

  “I missed you. But you’re hurting me and I won’t be able to talk to you if you do much more,” I say.

  He gently places me on the couch and every muscle of my body screams in pain. “I was irritated. You know how hard it was to get your number off Gunner’s phone? It’s a funny story.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It was so easy. Amy offered your brother a little pussy and presto, like magic! She has his phone and contact list in her hand.”

  He leans in and places a soft kiss on my forehead. I squeeze my eyes closed and hold my breath. I have a split second when I fantasize about gouging his eyes out. He moves away.

  The sound of vehicles outside the trailer barely registers, but Shawn jumps to his feet. “Your dumbass brother.”

  I choke back a sob. I can’t let him get to the door. “Shawn?” I reach out a hand and he drags me from the couch.

  Shawn seizes a plastic cord and winds it around my throat. The cord dangles from an iron left on the end table—an iron I normally picked up for Gunner.

  “Stop it!” I scream the words, my vocal cords grating from abuse.

  Shawn pulls the cord tight. “I want him to know he can’t have you.”

  My fingers pry underneath the cord as I attempt to get it loose. My bruised neck burns as though doused in acid. I panic, kicking my knees up and trying to find him with my feet.

  Someone bangs on the door. The sound stops and then there’s a splintering sound. Shawn pivots toward the door for an instant.

  I reach one hand to grab the cord at its base and swing the iron into Shawn’s head. There’s an impact, a terrible sickening sound of crushing bone, and he slumps over me.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Collin screams like a man burning alive and charges into the room, hauling Shawn off me.

  I hold out my hands, desperate to feel him. The room is blurry and spinning. I’m not certain it’s really him.

  A flash of pain registers as he holds me in his arms. I burrow my face in the crook of his neck. “I thought it was over. He made me think he had Gunner and I believed him. I didn’t want to leave you. Ever.”

  Collin smoothes my hair back and murmurs words I can’t follow. It doesn’t matter. Every word from his mouth soothes me and I close my eyes to the noises around me.

  Collin’s voice sounds close to my ear. “It’s all right, honey. I’m here. I’m here. Everything will be fine.”

  And those are the last words that register before I fade to black.

  * * *

  I open one eye and the other one protests before lifting halfway. I feel drunk on something really bad. I close my eyes again.

  “Veronica? It’s me.”

  I know the deep voice coming to me from the other side of my eyelids. I lift my brows in question, not bothering to open my eyes. “Am I dead?” I ask, halfway kidding, halfway serious.

  “We’re dead together then. Honey, it’s me, Collin.”

  “Yeah. I know who you are.” My mouth is drier than a baseball field in August.

  As if sensing my need, a straw touches my lips and I close them around it. The water wakes me enough to open my eyes. Collin and Gunner stand at the side of the hospital bed. It’s tough to judge who looks more worried.

  “Hi,” I croak.

  “Hey,” Collin says and then flashes me a smile.

  Gunner doesn’t answer, but looks at me and then looks away. He drags an arm across his eyes.

  “Collin, can I talk to my brother alone for a second?”

  Collin nods and backs up a step. “Ten minutes?”

  “Yeah. Ten is fine.” I wait until Collin leaves to look again at Gunner. “Sit.”

  He pulls a chair close to the hospital bed, takes my hand carefully in his. The IV tube pulls and he arranges it closer to my hand. “Why’d you come home?”

  I search his eyes. This question shouldn’t seem odd, but I feel the weight of it. “I didn’t want to. Shawn made me think he had you at the trailer.”

  “Oh.” Gunner stares at the flowers on the hospital dresser. It’s an arrangement of flowers that reminds me of the purple flowers from the day when Collin first kissed me.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No. He’s in jail. Don’t worry about that. And he’s not getting out.”

  “I’m not worried.” I stroke Gunner’s hand with my fingers. “Are you going to be okay? Where were you?”

  “I moved out of the trailer. I sold the store, too.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know.”

  He smiles. “Yes, I’m trying to decide what to do with my life instead of staying here and waiting for you to come home.”

  “Ah, Gun. I’m so sorry.” My eyes blur with tears.

  “No. It’s time for you to move on and this guy Collin … he really cares about you. You in love with him?”

  My throat is raw and my heart is bleeding. I gulp. “Yes. I was afraid to trust myself at first. I mean … look at how wrong I was about Shawn.”

  He laughs. “Shit. That’s pretty bad, Nicky-girl.”

  “The worst judge of character ever. Right? I should’ve listened to you. But I never really loved him. Now I see the way it’s supposed to be and…” I don’t finish. Gunner’s looking away again.

  “Collin called me. I gave him my phone number that day I visited you. He called and was practically coming out of his skin because your friend told him you left. And not that I think anyone is good enough, but … well … shit. I have no idea how he drove that fast. I owe him for that.”

  I blink slowly. “You’ve always taken good care of me.”

  “I want you to know that I’ll always be around. Your mother marrying my dad is the best thing that ever happened to me. I got a best friend out of the deal.”

  “I know.”

  Gunner stands and brushes off imaginary dust from his jeans. “Well, better send that guy of yours back in. He’s going to get sort of crazy if I take too long.”

  “Best friends forever,” I whisper to his back. “Gunner?”

  He looks over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “Go be happy. Please. Don’t hold back anymore. Okay?”

  One corner of his mouth tips up. “I’ll do that.”

  23

  Collin

  Staying at the Bliss Bed & Breakfast on Amelia Island seems more than right. It’s fate. I wake up every morning and look across the pillow at the woman I’m spending the rest of my life with and I know it’s right.

  No doubts. No urges to line up the chairs along the beach.

  Okay, I do have a fantasy about straightening the chairs, but I laugh about it and leave that job to the beach service.

  Veronica opens her eyes and peeks through her cloud of blonde hair. There’s a shaven spot her hair hides until it’s flipped over her head like it is now. It’s been a week since the nightmare of walking into the trailer with that son of a bitch almost taking her away from me. Twenty-nine stitches and a black eye later, she’s all mine and good as new.

  “Morning,” she says, and covers her mouth. “Mouthwash first. No kissing.”

  I kiss her anyway and roll her on top of me through her giggling.

  “Today is the day.” Her eyes sparkle with the pure joy of each word.

  “Today is the day,” I repeat.

  Yesterday, we played in the surf and sand un
til we were exhausted. Ace and Malerie gave us some space, time alone to smooth over our fears. Today, we’ll stand witness to their beach wedding.

  “They didn’t have to wait for us,” she says shyly. Although she won’t admit it, she’s pleased.

  “Malerie insisted. Said she could not do it without us.” I caress her cheek. “How’s the head today? Good?”

  “Yeah. I want to dive in, but I’ll be good and keep my stitches dry.”

  “I have breakfast ordered. Breakfast in bed for my favorite girlfriend.”

  “I’d better be your only one,” she says.

  A knock at the door signals the delivery of our breakfast. I take the tray and carry it to the patio, shoving the French doors open. Veronica gets out of bed and joins me on the deck. The cool ocean breeze blows her hair back and she catches it with her hand.

  I watch her and I’m mesmerized. It’s a simple thing to be this thrilled with looking at her. She examines the juice and silver dome-covered plate. “I feel like a princess,” she says.

  I always feel a stab to the chest whenever she tells me these things. A damn breakfast tray and she’s a princess. “Better start eating before Malerie calls.”

  She lifts the silver tray and holds it up in the air.

  I should be filming this moment. Her expression, the glint of water in the background, the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore.

  “Is this the right tray?” she says after what seems an eternity.

  “I think so.”

  She carefully places the dome cover at the side of her plate. “Collin?”

  I get down on one knee, the gesture I know she’ll remember—hell, I’d get on both knees and crawl through fire if I had to. The ring, an oval cut solitaire, sits in the middle of the plate. The diamond glints in the bright morning sun. I pick it up and offer it to her. “Please marry me. Do me the honor of standing beside me every day. Of taking care of me and letting me take care of you.”

  I’m thankful when she puts the ring on and gets down on her knees with me. She puts her hands on both sides of my face and kisses me. “I’m beside you, Collin. Trusting you every step of the way.”