He spluttered. “I don’t know what—”
“Hugh.”
“Fine.” He sighed impatiently. “How did you know?”
“You’d never send the two of us away alone if you thought there was a true threat to her,” I said, studying my nails. “You’d have the whole fucking army on her.”
“True.” He made an annoyed sound. “I should have known better.”
I tapped my foot impatiently. “What’s really up, Hugh?”
“The guy I told you about is real. He did make a threat.”
“Is he something to be worried about?” I asked, sitting straighter.
“I doubt it,” he admitted. “But it’s a threat nonetheless.”
“Why send us away alone, then?”
“Because he’s not a huge threat,” Hugh said, sighing. “And you two are falling apart. She didn’t tell me anything, but I’ve been married a long time, and I know how to recognize a rough patch when I see one. You two need a romantic weekend alone.”
I collapsed against the chair, closing my eyes. “How much do you know?”
“Enough.” He hesitated. “I know you two need to get away to talk.”
I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t know.”
“If we tell her about the threat, and make it sound worse than it is, she’ll agree to go away with you.”
“No.” I opened my eyes, my grip on the phone painfully tight. “No more lies. If you want to show up and tell her that you’re sending us away for the weekend, then fine. Tell her that. But don’t blow up a threat if it’s not one.”
“It is.” He sighed. “But we’ll get him, I’m sure. He’s no crazier than any other nutjob who’s written me hate mail, I’d dare to say.”
“Then don’t mention the threat at all.”
“Fine. I’m on my way to your house now. I’ll be there in an hour or so. When I get there, we’ll tell her that I wanted a weekend with my baby girl, and I’m sending you two to a cabin in the woods for some relaxation. It’s a Christmas present.” A voice sounded in the background, and the senator’s muffled reply came through. “I need to go. Don’t tell her I called you before coming over.”
The phone clicked off, and I sat there with it in my hand for so long, the dial tone sounded. Jerking back to life, I set it down on the receiver. Pushing my chair back, I stood and grabbed my keys off the desk. It might not be easy, but I had to find a way to get her to go to that cabin with me. I had to find a way to get her alone so we could talk.
It was time to hash it all out. Time to find out if she wanted me to leave for good, or if she wanted to keep fighting for what we’d once had. Only she could answer that.
I got in my truck and started the familiar ride home. The one I hadn’t taken in two days. As I turned down the windy road that led to home, our neighbor, Mrs. Easton, waved at me with a big smile. She probably thought I’d been away for work, since I hadn’t been home. No one knew why I’d left.
I waved back and forced a smile, even though I felt more like snarling than anything else. When I pulled into my driveway, I scanned the bushes. No one seemed to be lurking in the shadows, waiting to kill my wife. Sure, the threat might not be huge, but it was a threat nonetheless. And I’d keep my eyes open.
I killed the ignition and got out of the car. Dragging my hands through my hair, I made my way around the home we’d built together. There was no one here. No one at all.
Slowly, I lowered myself to the first step on the porch. I could go inside, but I sat down instead. It was easier to watch for incoming traffic this way. Headlights came down the road almost instantly. I recognized the Mercedes right away.
Carrie was home.
My heart sped up painfully, and I stood up awkwardly. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I held my breath. Would she still come home, or would she drive past me in an attempt to avoid the conversation we’d both been trying to ignore? She slowed down to a crawl, her blue eyes locked on me through the tinted windshield.
Then, slowly, she pulled into the driveway next to my truck. Her car shut off, and I swallowed hard. I limped toward her car, but each step felt harder than the last.
Would she tell me to leave again?
I opened her car door for her, and she didn’t look at me. Just stared straight ahead, her hands tight on the wheel. “Finn.”
So much was said with that one word. So fucking much.
“I…I wanted to see Susan.” And you. I miss you. I moved away from her door. My heart twisted at the sight of her tight expression. She looked haunted. So distant. Empty. “She’s my daughter, too, Carrie.”
“I know that. You can see her whenever you want, of course.” She tightened her grip on the wheel, but her voice was even tighter. She sounded as if she was wound so taut, she just might snap if pushed any further. And it was my fault. “You can get her out of the car, if you’d like.”
“Thank you.”
I opened the door and peeked in at the rear-facing car seat. My precious baby girl was already thirteen months, and I couldn’t believe time had passed so fast. When she saw me, she squealed and gurgled, a bright smile lighting up her face.
Her lower jaw was covered in a shiny sheen of drool. “Dah-dah!”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Despite the turmoil inside of me, I couldn’t help but grin back. It was probably the first time I’d smiled in two days. I needed her in my life. “Hey, baby girl.”
“Gah!” She flailed her fists excitedly, smacking me in the eye. “Dah-dah!”
My heart didn’t twist. It fucking broke. “It’s me.” I wiped my hand over her face, drying her off so she didn’t get a rash. “I missed you, baby girl. Did you miss me?”
She smiled at me and caught my hand.
I took that as a yes.
Carrie made a broken sound, and dropped her head against the headrest on her driver’s seat. I stared at the back of the head I knew so well, wanting to say something to fix this, but unable to come up with a single fucking word to do so. Believe me. I’d tried.
“Can I come in?” I asked, hating the way my voice cracked.
“Yes,” Carrie said, her voice perfectly flat and even. “You can come in. We need to talk, anyway.”
I undid Susan’s latch. Even though I knew this, a part of me didn’t want to talk. If we talked, she might tell me she was done with me for good. And if she was done with me, then I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
But instead of saying all that, I settled for: “Yeah. We do.”
As I followed her inside, clutching a squirming Susan tight to my chest, I scanned the yard again. No one was there. She was still safe.
But I wasn’t.
Carrie
As I walked up to the door, I tried not to turn around and glance at Finn. I wanted to run into his arms and hug him and beg him never to leave us again. And I wanted to kiss him until I ran out of breath, and then kiss him some more. I wanted to hit him for doing what he did, and I wanted to kill him. But mostly, I wanted to love him.
I wanted to love him so badly.
But I already loved him more than life itself, and that’s what made this so hard. He was the man who’d carried my heart in his hands for so long, and still did, even if he didn’t realize it. If he did, he wouldn’t have done what he did. He wouldn’t have broken my trust like he did, over and over again throughout the years.
I’d forgiven him instantly so many times, for so many things, but this last time had been the last straw. Silently, I pressed a hand to my stomach again. We had a little family now. I needed to think of that before I thought of my own wants and desires. No matter how much it hurt.
Even if I felt like I was slowly dying without him in my life.
Calmly, I undid the lock on the front door. It had taken us three weeks to finally agree on this door. He’d wanted red. I’d wanted blue. We’d settled on green. Then we’d made love for an hour after we bought it, happy as could be that we were finally getting our dream home. Now we had nothing.
Finn’s refusal to get help was putting a strain on everything, and it just might be the end of us, too. I tried to act as if it didn’t rip my heart apart to see him again; after all we’d been through. Especially since he kept giving me that Finn-look that always made me melt. The same one that had gotten him his way in pretty much everything for the past eight years of our lives.
Opening the door, I turned on the security code and let him walk in first. He limped forward, Susan held securely in his arms. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he was okay, if he needed anything from me, but I bit the words back.
I stayed silent. I had no idea how, but I did.
The other night after we’d fought, I’d left the pills on the table. When I’d woken up in the morning, he’d been gone. So had the pills. Had he taken them all?
Or was he trying to get better?
If he was trying, I could help him. I wanted to help him. But only if he wanted it. Only if he was ready. I couldn’t force him. He had to decide it all on his own.
I looked at him again. He wore the dark gray suit I loved. I’d gotten it for him last year, and I’d also painstakingly searched for a blue shirt to match his eyes. It had taken forever, but I had finally found one. He’d made love to me for hours to make up for the hours I’d spent looking for the shirt.
God, this hurt so much.
He kissed Susan’s temple, his eyes focused on me. He had a bit of a five o’clock shadow going on. I loved it when he was stubbly, and he knew it. Maybe he’d grown it on purpose. Just to torture me. If so, it was working. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself in his arms and never let go again. I missed him so much.
So, so much.
But I forced myself to stiffen up, and straightened to my full height. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m all better.”
The fact that he truly believed that broke my heart, too. He wasn’t all better. Not at all. “The pills.” I took a deep breath. “Did you take them at the proper times?”
He kissed Susan again, and shook his head. “No. I haven’t taken them at all. I flushed them all at my hotel. I slipped up, Ginger. It was only a couple of days, really. I haven’t had any more. I swear it. I’m good now.”
I wanted to believe him, but I wasn’t so sure I did. Too many lies. Too many secrets. Too many times. “Okay.”
“Do you believe me?”
I hugged myself and looked at the clock, refusing to answer that. “I’m going to go start dinner for her.”
He glanced away. “Right. Of course.”
I headed into the kitchen, feeling as if he had a grip on my heart, and he was ripping it out of my chest one painful yank at a time. This isn’t how we were supposed to be acting right before Thanksgiving. We were supposed to be baking pies and talking about decorating our tree, just like we had been for years.
Not this. Anything but this.
“Carrie,” he said, following me into the kitchen. “Can’t you just give me—”
I gripped the edge of the counter tight. “I don’t want to talk about this yet. Not in front of her.” I spun on him, heart racing. “You…you…”
Broke my heart. My trust. Everything.
Could have hurt our child.
He swallowed. “I know. Believe me, I know. But we swore to love each other forever, Ginger. For better or worse.”
Ginger. His nickname for me.
“I know.” I gripped the cold granite edge even tighter. “But it’s not just us anymore. It’s her too. It’s… What if…?” I closed my eyes, shutting my mind off. “She was with you, Finn. And you were high. Passed out on the couch.”
He glanced away, his jaw hard. “But I stopped the pills. I’m fine now.”
“It scares me that you think that,” I said, my tone cajoling. “What if you hurt Susan? What if you drove with her, thinking you were okay, and you crashed?”
“Jesus, Carrie. I’d never have done that. And I never will.” He hugged Susan even closer. She yanked on his ear, and he flinched. I didn’t know if it was from that or my words, but he did. “High or sober. Weak or strong. I’d never, ever endanger you two.”
I pressed a hand to my stomach. It roiled in response to the horrible images of them lying dead in a ditch. They’d been haunting me ever since I found him on the couch. “So you were going to have the pills delivered, or what? Because if you weren’t, you would have driven with her.”
He paled. “Not high.”
“But you were high. And you did. You weren’t home all those days.”
“I made a mistake.” His voice cracked on the last word. It broke my heart even more. “I’m sorry. So fu—freaking sorry.”
“Yeah, I know that. You always are, and I always forgive you, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Nothing was okay anymore. Nothing at all. My heart yanked out another fraction of an inch, and I gave him my back. “Go play with Susan. I’ll cook her dinner.”
I thought he might argue with me, but he headed through the kitchen, making his way toward the living room. As I reached out for the pot, I knocked the lid and an open box of pasta on the floor. The lid hit the linoleum with a loud clash, while the pasta spilled all over the place, and Finn leapt back, his face ashen and sweat covering his forehead almost immediately. I hadn’t realized he’d come back in.
“No,” he whispered. “Not again.”
“No one’s here,” I said slowly, keeping my voice monotone. “I just dropped the pot lid.”
He hugged Susan close to his chest, his hand splayed protectively over her small head, and his eyes darted back and forth, looking for the threat. He looked terrified.
I forced myself to stand still, letting him process the fear. After a few seconds, he locked eyes on me, visibly relaxing after a few deep breaths. More than likely, he was counting them in his head. I let him. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” I pressed a hand to my heart, watching him closely. If I’d needed any confirmation that he’d slipped back into the deep abyss of PTSD, I’d gotten it. He needed help, real help from a professional, and I couldn’t be the one to give it to him. “Are you?”
He nodded once. “Yeah. You just caught me off guard, is all.” He glanced at me, his expression guarded. He must’ve seen the concern in mine. “I’m okay.”
“I know.” I kept my tone light and tender. “Are you sleeping?”
He tightened his lips. “You’re not my therapist. If you want to know how I’m sleeping, let me come back home.”
“Go on and play with Susan,” I said, ignoring the giant elephant in the room with PTSD stamped on its forehead. If I pushed him too hard, I’d only make him more defensive. I had to approach this carefully. “I’ll pick this mess up on my own.”
He gave me one last look, opened his mouth, and closed it again before leaving the room as I asked. After cleaning up and filling the pot with water, I covered my face and tried to think of a way to help him. A way he’d accept my help. In the distance, I could hear him talking to Susan in that soft voice that he reserved for only her.
She made a cute sound, and Finn laughed again. The whole scene sounded so normal that I almost forgot what had happened.
When the doorbell rang, I jumped even higher than Finn had earlier. I glanced at the clock. Who the heck would be here now? I hadn’t been expecting anyone. Finn came into the kitchen at an almost-run, Susan clutched in his arms.
He didn’t look scared this time, but he looked determined. “Your dad’s here.”
“No.” I pulled the curtains back. Sure enough, it was my dad. “No. Why would he come here unannounced like this? Did you tell him about us?”
He tugged on one of his curls. “No. Of course not.”
“Well, then, why is he here?” I hissed.
He quirked a light brown brow, his blue eyes I loved so much locked on me. “Open the door and find out.”
I stared at him, and took a deep breath. As I exhaled, I undid the lock. “Act normal. As if nothing hap
pened. He can’t know about us.”
“Yep.” Finn nodded once. “I’ll be normal.”
After one more calming breath, I opened the door. “Dad! What a surprise!”
Dad grinned at me, and within seconds he’d picked me up and was hugging me, like he used to do when I was a girl. His arms closed around me, and his familiar scent of Old Spice and coconut shampoo washed over me.
The desire to collapse in his arms and cry was overbearing, but I held it together. He didn’t need to know everything was falling apart. He couldn’t know. It was between my husband and me. No one else.
“Hey, Princess.” He kissed my forehead, cradling the back of my head with his hand. “I missed you.”
“Come in,” Finn said, clearing his throat and stepping forward. With a flick of his wrist, he closed the door behind my dad. “It’s nice seeing you, sir.”
“Back at you.” Dad let go of me, and offered Finn his hand. “How are things going?”
Finn shook his hand. “Wonderful.”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and put his arm around my shoulders. He was trying to act normal, but it made my chest get all tight and I couldn’t breathe. All I could smell was his woodsy Dolce and Gabbana cologne.
God, I missed him. Missed his touch. His smell. His skin.
“Just having a quiet night at home with the family,” Finn said, squeezing my shoulders.
I forced a smile. It probably looked demented.
Dad nodded. “Excellent.”
“What made you come all the way out here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light when I felt like I was about to break. “You and Mom get in another fight over curtains?”
They’d just bought a vacation house out here in Cali, to be close to us. Decorating it had been tough, to say the least. “Ha! Nope. Just wanted to drop by and see how you guys were doing.”
“Oh.” I nodded, feeling like a freaking bobblehead. “I see.”
“You sound unhappy I’m here.” Dad studied me, his eyes narrowed in the way he always did when suspicious of something. “Everything okay?”
Fractured Lines Page 3