A Deep and Dark December

  “Graham.”

  She said his name in the way she used to, pulling on the string that bound them together. Except he couldn’t feel the tug the way he did before, as though the line had become frayed and was dangerously close to snapping.

  “It hurts,” he blurted out.

  “I know it does.” She held her one good arm out to him and he wanted nothing more than to go to her, but he wasn’t sure of what was real anymore, what was for him and what he generated without meaning to. “Come here,” she offered again.

  He shook his head.

  “Please.” She moved her fingers, inviting him in.

  “No. You don’t get it. You don’t know.”

  “I know what it’s like to lose a parent.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Graham—”

  “No! Stop it. You just don’t know.”

  “I want to help you. I—”

  “Don’t you get it? It’s you. It hurts to be with you.”

  She dropped her hand, her lips parting, her face growing even paler. He saw the tears forming in her eyes, but she didn’t understand. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her. It physically hurt to be near her.

  And he knew it would be fucking agony to live without her.

  “Come here,” Erin said slow and even, the hard edge of anger sliding through her words. “Or I’m climbing out of this bed and coming to you.”

  To prove it, she flicked her covers off and started to lower her legs over the side of the bed. He was by her side in two seconds, tucking her feet back under the blankets and smoothing it down around her. She grabbed his wrist with her good hand and pulled. He had to brace himself on both sides of her hips or tumble down on top of her.

  “Sit down,” she ordered.

  He sat. But only because she still had a grip on his wrist. And she’d been shot…and maybe because he wanted to be near her so badly he couldn’t help himself.

  “Lean closer so I don’t have to strain myself looking up at you.”

  He did as she ordered, bending toward her. “Are you—”

  She grabbed the back of his head and cut him off with a kiss. There was no time to react. One moment he was feeling sorry for himself, feeling guilty for her getting shot, feeling as though he didn’t have the right to a place in her life, and the next he was swamped with a yearning so strong all other thought and emotion was swept away. It was just him and her and this kiss that went on and on.

  She finally broke it, easing back in the bed. He found himself following her and was pulled into a one-armed hug so fierce it knocked some of the wind out of him. It wasn’t her strength that surprised him, it was the way she fisted the back of his shirt, gripping him hard as though he was going to float away. Or run away.

  “Don’t tell me what I don’t get. I get you. I get what you’re going through. All of it. You’re not walking away from me out of some misplaced sense of guilt.” She jerked on his shirt. “Do you hear me?” Her voice wobbled, setting off an answering quake in the center of his chest.

  He nodded and turned his face into the crook of her neck. She didn’t smell like she usually did, but she felt the same and that was more than enough for him. All he wanted to do was stretch out beside her and hold her and forget.

  “I thought you were dead.” He could hear the tears in her voice, feel her face go hot. “I heard a gunshot…” She held him tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry about Ham. I can’t… I don’t know what to say to you.” She sucked in a shaky breath and he squeezed his eyes tighter against the burning at the back of his eyes. “Thank you seems stupid. Everything I can think of is stupid and useless. Oh, god, Graham. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He didn’t want her sympathy. All he wanted was this moment to stretch out forever. Snuggling deeper into her, he didn’t answer. Being with her like this, feeling tethered in a way he’d never felt before her, it was everything he wanted and nothing of what he deserved.

  “I’m the only person in this town, hell, maybe even the whole world who knows what it’s like to come into an ability you don’t want and don’t know what to do with.” She laid her cheek against his head. “Let me help you. Please. I can teach you how to use your ability and how to control it.”

  His throat felt as raw as the rest of him. “I don’t want to use it.”

  “Okay. You don’t have to.”

  “Especially not on you.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Now see, that’s going to be an easy one. I already know how to block my dad and aunt. I’ll just do the same with you. Actually I’ve been blocking you since I woke up.”

  He pulled back to look at her. Her lashes were wet and clumped together, her cheeks pinker than they were before. She was so goddamned beautiful his chest ached. He’d never grow tired of looking at her. Reaching up, he brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen over one eye. He wanted to believe that everything could be solved so simply.

  “Go ahead and try,” she said. “Try to use your ability.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know how to use it. I don’t even know when I’m using it and when I’m not.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “There’s no point.”

  “Just do it. For me. Please?”

  He huffed out a breath and complied.

  “Think about something you want me to do, raising my arm or saying a particular word. Focus your thoughts. Blank everything else out. Concentrate on what you want me to do…”

  “But you’re blocking me.”

  “For this first time I’m going to open up to you. Then we’ll try it again with me blocking you.”

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  “It will. Just try.”

  She still held onto him and he didn’t ever want her to let go. So that’s what he thought about, her releasing him. Taking a deep breath, he focused on her pushing him away.

  Nothing.

  “I told you it wouldn’t work,” he mumbled.

  “Maybe if we aren’t so close,” she said, then let go of him and pushed at his chest.

  He leaned back to look at her, his jaw hanging open a little. Did that just… Did I…? No. Couldn’t be. It must be a coincidence.

  “What?” she asked.

  He got up and paced across the room, needing the space. It felt wrong. He felt wrong.

  “Graham?”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Try again. Maybe something simpler this time.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “What do you mean… Oh.” She smiled. At what he didn’t know. There was nothing to be happy about here. “Do it again.”

  “No.”

  She flipped her covers back like she was going to climb out of bed, her chin up, challenging him.

  He put his hands out. “Okay. Fine. I’ll try again.”

  “Not try…do. Do it again.”

  Glaring at her, he thought about her lying back and closing her eyes. She looked so damn tired. All he wanted was for her to get some rest so she could heal, instead of playing these stupid games with his ability.

  Sighing, she settled back against the pillows. “One more time,” she yawned. “Please? For me?”

  He couldn’t help the frown that bent down one side of his mouth. “You’re tired. Maybe we should do this some other time.”

  She shook her head, blinking slowly. “I’m okay.”

  Returning to the side of the bed, he kissed her forehead. “No. I really think you need a nap.” He started to leave.

  She grabbed his wrist. “Hold it right there.” Suddenly she was rebounding. Her lips pressed in a stubborn line. “You made me feel sleepy.”

  “This is pointless.”

  “You’re two for two. Good job. Try it again.”

  “Erin—”

  “I’m blocking you now. Go on. One more time and then I’ll take that nap you seem to think I need.”

  God, she was stubborn. She wasn’t goin
g to let up on him. The sooner he complied with what she wanted him to do, the sooner she’d actually get the rest she needed.

  “Fine.” He imagined her telling him to fuck off, pictured her kicking him out of her hospital room, telling him she never wanted to see him again. Everything he deserved to hear. Instead all he got was a serene smile and a smug eyebrow wiggle. He frowned.

  “It works,” she said. “You can’t use your ability on me.”

  “What about everyone else? They don’t have the defenses you have.”

  “Keep practicing. You’ll get better.”

  “I don’t want to get better. I want it to go away.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen, is it? Do you want to accidentally use your ability or have control over it? Because those are your only two options.”

  He grumbled under his breath at her, knowing she was right.

  Her expression softened. “How’s your mom?”

  Her abrupt change of subject threw him for a moment. He pulled in a tight breath. “She doesn’t know yet.”

  “I wish I could be there with you when you tell her.”

  “How in the hell am I going to tell her that her son shot her husband? It’ll be all over town. About him shooting you, me shooting him.” Squeezing his eyes closed, he tipped his head back. “Ah, Jesus.”

  She took his hand in hers. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

  “It was because of me that your father came to the bluff.”

  “Don’t call him that.”

  Erin could feel the twin chains of grief and guilt wrapped around him, squeezing and shackling him, pulling him away from her.

  “It was my idea to bait him. All of it was my fault. Not yours. I wish I’d listened to you. If I had—”

  “If you had, more people might have been hurt or died because of him. Donald and Cerie would still be suffering. None of this is your fault.”

  “Then it’s not your fault either.”

  He looked away and she could tell her words had no effect.

  “It was my gun,” he said so low and miserable she almost didn’t hear him.

  She wished to God she hadn’t. His words hit like a punch in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. She could hardly catch her breath. So this was it. This would be the thing that would tear them apart. She couldn’t fight through the blame he cloaked himself in.

  Just like Patricia.

  Was he here now out of some kind of penance? If they managed to stay together, would she ever really know if it was what he wanted or if he was trying to atone for the wrongs he thought he’d inflicted on her? She could imagine it. Every day like the lash of a whip, marking off his punishment. When would it end for him? What would happen to them if she let him go on carrying the burden for what his father had done and his accidental role in it?

  “I’m going to tell you something you’re not going to believe. You’re not going to believe it because you’re one of the most responsible, honest people I’ve ever met. And you’re stubborn, so freaking stubborn.” She had his attention, however reluctant. Fat lot of good it would do her. “So here it is… It’s not your fault. Ham picking up your gun and shooting me… Not your fault. It’s Ham’s. He started this whole tragedy and wouldn’t have given up until it played out the way he wanted. He left you no choice. You ended his reign of terror and horror. You saved me. You saved who knows how many other people. As far as I’m concerned you’re a hero.”

  His wince at the word ‘hero’ made her want to grab him and shake him, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. She could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways that none of this was his fault. Her words would only bounce off him, deflected by his self-imposed torment. He’d been as swept up into the current of Ham’s manipulations and evilness as the rest of them. But her telling him such wouldn’t do any good. He had to discover it for himself.

  She itched to look into the future to see if he would ever realize it or to find the one thing that would bring him around. But that wouldn’t be right and above all else she wanted her relationship with Graham to be honest. So she’d do the hard thing. She wouldn’t look into the future, she wouldn’t manipulate him, and she’d tear her own heart out before she ever let him look at her again the way he was looking at her now.

  “I won’t be an…obligation to you,” she stuttered out. “I want you, but not with you thinking you owe me or trying to make up for what your father did. You can’t fix it and you can’t undo it. It’s done.”

  “You’re not an obligation.”

  “What then? What am I to you other than a living symbol of all the ways you think you’ve failed?”

  “I have no idea what you mean.” He denied it, but she could see him scrambling inside, looking for a way to make things right.

  “I’ve become Patricia to you.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. I can absolve you eight ways to Sunday, but until you forgive yourself we have nowhere to go.”

  “So you’re what? Breaking up with me?”

  “I’m freeing you of your obligation.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  She bowed her head and rubbed her eyes. So tired. She was so tired and achy, hurting from the inside out. “I can’t be the amends you make. I can’t be the thing that ties you to this town. I can’t let you use our relationship as some kind of half-assed attempt at absolution.”

  “That’s not—”

  She whipped her head up to glare at him. “Bullshit!”

  “I don’t know what you think you know about me, but you’re all wrong.”

  “Am I?”

  ~*~

  No, she wasn’t, Graham suddenly realized. Not entirely. Her tone was like a chisel to his chest, chipping away at all the bullshit she’d called him out on. He did feel guilty for her getting shot. It was his fault. The bullets he’d loaded into his gun had torn through her flesh and could’ve killed her.

  Everything was so fucked up and off center he couldn’t entirely trust his own judgment when it came to her. She’d gotten one important fact wrong though—he was so head over heels in love with her he hardly had a thought without her in it. And he definitely didn’t see her as an obligation.

  “You’re not tying me to this town.” It was all he had to offer her. “I’m the sheriff. At least I will be once I’m cleared and off of administrative leave. With Adam away I’m all my mom’s got. I’ve been planning on staying in San Rey for some time now.”

  She laughed, but it rang hollow and sad between them. “Really? That’s a switch.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Because he’d say it, do it, whatever it took to make her stay with him.

  “Nothing.”

  “So that’s it? We’re just over.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  She stared at him, hugging her disappointment to her as tightly as her arm wrapped around her body. Goddammit! What did she want from him?

  He turned and left, his feet taking him away from her and the purest moments of joy he’d ever known. The further he got, the hotter he burned. By the time he exited the hospital he wanted to hit something so bad he shook with it. He climbed into his car and slammed the door closed. Tearing out of the parking lot, he didn’t care about getting lit up for speeding. He had to get far away from Erin and her words that chased him like rabid dogs, chomping and snarling.

  He struck the steering wheel with the flat of his hand over and over until the pain radiated up his arm and into his shoulder. It didn’t help. The pressure rose inside, threatening to spill over.

  What in the hell was he supposed to do without her?

  Erin was released from the hospital the same day as Ham’s funeral. She sat at the back of the church with her aunt who had insisted on coming along with her even though Cerie would rather spit on Ham’s casket than grieve over it.

  Erin
wasn’t there to mourn Ham either. There were no respects to pay. She wasn’t sure why she’d come. Maybe it was for a glimpse of Graham, to see how he was doing and to be there for him in some small way. They’d slipped into the end of the last pew just before the service started so all she could see of him was the back of his head. He had an arm across his mother’s shaking shoulders and would lean down to whisper to her every now and then.

  Erin accepted the well wishes of passersby. Their concern felt genuine as though she was truly, finally one of them. The tale of what had happened between her and Graham and Ham had somehow become romanticized, like some twisted Romeo and Juliet tale. The townspeople accepted it as a point of town pride and there’d been talk about some kind of plaque or monument to what had happened on the bluffs, which she’d heard Graham had quashed.

  If they only knew the true story.

  The service began and the reverend spoke of Ham’s accomplishments, his tenure as sheriff, his family, and his community activities. There was no mention of the deaths he’d caused or the terror he’d inflicted. Nearly the entire town of San Rey had turned out. Every seat was filled, with the overflow standing at the sides and back. And not one of them had any idea that the man they’d come to pay tribute to was a monster.

  The mayor made a speech, followed by a few community leaders. Then Graham rose and made his way to the front of the room. Her stomach whooshed at her first sight of him since that day in the hospital. She’d heard that he’d been cleared in the shooting and reinstated as sheriff. She was glad. He didn’t deserve to pay for what his father had done.

  He wore a somber dark suit and tie, which hung like it had been made for him. He looked out at the crowd through tired eyes. She drank him in, savoring every single nuance, from the way he’d combed his hair back to the new lines that bracketed his mouth. Had it only been a little over a week since she’d seen him? It felt like forever.

  “My mother, brother, and I would like to thank you all for coming,” he began. “In lieu of flowers, we’re asking for donations to The Alzheimer’s Foundation of America. Your support through this difficult time for our family means the world to us. Thank you.”