by Brea Viragh
August did reach out and touch me then, closing the distance between us as our fingers entwined. “I know you laughed. I was there and saw the whole thing. But Travis had a point. Your car wouldn’t run because I kept pulling the spark plugs out so you’d have no choice but to ride with me.”
I sat back, face blank. “What?” At once my head ached and the whole of me felt hollow.
Before I had a chance to force a detailed account from him, August continued. “And the one before him you were making out with…?”
“Samuel?”
“Yeah, Samuel. I told him you had gum rot and it was highly contagious. It kinda put a damper on those kissy-face sessions.”
“Whenever I saw him in the hallway he ran in the opposite direction. And he refused to take my calls—” I broke off, unable to catch my breath.
“And Fred Dickerson, the one who repeatedly told his boys how he wanted to get you in the band room alone and fuck you?”
I winced at his harsh words.
“I sent him packing too.” August started to reach out again, hesitating when I jolted away, then folded his hands on his lap. “I knew Marsha Bradley had a secret crush on him and found Fred’s dimples cute. She owed me a favor, I called it in, they went on a few dates, and your relationship fell apart. Do you know they’re still married today?”
“Stop, August, please.” This was not the conversation I’d expected. Surprise could not cover the well of horror opening inside of me, a gaping, yawning hole ready to gobble me whole. “Stop.”
There was no stopping him now. Truth filled the air with noxious fumes threatening to choke us both. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “Your cousin who bailed on you at the dance? I stole his inhaler to make sure he left early. And then I stepped in for him.”
I got to my feet so quickly the movement made my head spin. Those knots in my intestines continued to twine around each other, no hope of loosening. “What are you saying? That you’ve somehow been responsible for all my failed relationships? I hate to tell you, buddy, but it’s not you. It’s me. I always pick the wrong guys.”
I clung to the reality of my poor judgment. It did no one any good to assign blame. I’d spent too long doing just that before I learned to accept my own fault in the matters. Yes, it was true my relationships didn’t last. Look at my newest disaster with Duncan, and I’d planned to marry him.
“Shut up and stop messing with me. If this is your way of making me feel better, I’ve gotta tell you, it’s not working.”
August shook his head. “It’s never been you, Isabel. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful, kind, and generous. How could you think these men walked out on you without an outside reason?”
I grimaced and turned my face away. “Don’t say those things to me.”
I tried to process what he said, walking to the window and back again while I made sense of it all. Instead my thoughts refused to cooperate, my mind blissfully blank.
“You honestly expect me to believe you had anything to do with my disappointments in love? For Christ’s sake, August, get hold of yourself.” I pointed down at his crotch. “The blood rushing away from your head has made you loopy.”
Instead of fighting back, he turned sad eyes at me and remained rooted to the couch. “You won’t say that when I tell you this last bit.”
“There’s more?”
“Duncan and Leda—”
I held up a hand to cut him off. “Please, no more. I’m not listening.” I mimed sticking my fingers in my ears.
“I’m telling you,” he said, the words weighted, “I can’t take advantage of you under false pretenses. I’ve kept the truth from you for too long.”
“What false pretenses?” I flung my hands in the air. “I’m throwing myself at you and all you can do is talk to me about my ex-boyfriends. What are you going to say now, eh? You forced Duncan to sleep with Leda tonight?”
August answered without hesitation. “In a way. Yes.”
I froze. “So you…are you saying you…orchestrated the whole thing? No, August. People are responsible for their own choices.”
He rose and took hold of me, stilling movement I hadn’t been aware of. “Isabel, you have to listen to me.”
“No, I don’t.” I pounded my fists on his chests once, hoping to break his hold. “Not when you’re talking utter nonsense. Do you want to make me feel worse about myself?”
“I’m trying to be honest about this for the first time in our lives.”
At last, a reaction. Emotion broiled in his eyes, pulling me forward. The closeness merely brought those rising sentiments to a peak. I lassoed my own frustration and lashed back.
“You can’t expect me to believe you arranged what they did. No, no.” I squirmed to break his hold. “Of all the arrogant, narrow-minded things to say. What makes you think I’ll believe you?”
“It’s the truth!” he asserted. “Why do you think I would stop us from having sex? I’ve waited my whole life to have you in my arms, and trust me, saying no was not what I intended to do.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “If I could take it all back, I would. I’d give anything for you to want me even a tenth of how much I want you. But I’m at fault and I need to make it right.”
Determined to ignore his words, I began fighting in earnest. “Look, I’m sorry your girlfriend was involved and you’re hurting, but it’s not your fault. What they did, it’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is. I know it’s my doing.”
“Why?” I pleaded.
“I know because I made it happen!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I backed away from August. Shock, pure and unadulterated, had my ears ringing until I heard nothing else.
“What did you say?”
August ran his hands through his hair once more, the strands standing on end. “I said I made it happen. I planned the whole damn thing from the moment I heard you were coming home.”
“August…” There were the shaking knees. Back again even though I thought I’d found something strong to hold on to. “I don’t understand.”
He caught me when my knees buckled. I leaned heavily against his grip. “Leda and I weren’t dating. I knew her from the music festival, true, but she was the production manager. My band stepped in when one of the others was a no-show and she owed me a favor.”
“She owed you a favor.” The words tasted strange. Like something foreign I wasn’t sure was good or garbage. “Seems a lot of people owe you favors.”
“I told her I wanted to drive a wedge between you and Duncan. To have his attention turned away so I had a better chance of—”
“A better chance of what?” I asked slowly.
“A better chance of making you fall in love with me.”
The tremor moved from my knees up the length of my torso, through my shoulders and down my spine, until it felt like the whole of me shivered in uncontrollable movement.
He planned this, I realized. The whole damn outcome. And how horribly strange to still find him attractive now, even when my heart sank to the floor.
August straightened, his fingers biting into my skin. “I’ve always loved you, Isabel. From the first moment I saw you and recognized you for who you are, I loved you.”
“What you’re talking about? That kind of love is impossible.” I let out a shaky laugh and clenched my fists. “We were children.”
“It doesn’t matter. I had feelings for you then that I didn’t understand, and my feelings grew until I felt I could hardly breathe for wanting you.” He clasped his throat as if he had difficulty drawing breath now. “You promised me, when we were twelve, it could be me. Remember? We promised each other that if we didn’t find anyone by the time we were thirty-five, then we could be together. Well, I found a way to make sure we ended up together.”
A low, steady burn began again in my stomach. “So you’ve sabotaged all of my relationships?” How could you?
Whatever August saw reflected in my face was enough to have
him releasing me, his arms dropping to his sides. “I don’t like to think of my actions as sabotage, but yes, I suppose so.”
“Oh, they definitely constitute as sabotage,” I tossed back. “Sneaky, underhanded, snake in the grass—”
“Your Southern is coming out.”
“You’re insane!”
August ducked his head in what I recognized as his go-to move when dealing with out of control women. Knowing I was lumped in the same category had my chest puffing up and my eyes twitching.
“I understand how you feel, Isabel, but none of those boys were ever good enough for you.” He gestured away from us, toward somewhere else outside of the house. Another time. “Those men, your old boyfriends, they were horrible people. I saw how they treated you and it was infuriating because I knew if you gave me a chance, I would love you the way you deserved.”
My eyes narrowed to slits. “Now I understand the kiss.” Then I erupted in hysterical laughter. I backed away from him with such speed I nearly crashed a lamp to the floor. I could pretend to be invincible, pretend none of what he said affected me in any deep way. All lies, I knew. At once embarrassment caught up to me and I flushed, shamed at what I’d almost done.
Duncan and his infidelity were child’s play compared to this latest betrayal. The magnitude of what August said echoed inside my empty spaces and now the full implications fell into line.
Brett. Travis. Fred. Chris. Adam Finch. Duncan. I could have been engaged ten times over by now. A faint, threatening growl began low in my throat as August hurried to enlighten me further.
“I couldn’t stop myself,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, I am so, so sorry for how this turned out. I never wanted to put you in a position where you got hurt again.”
“Which is exactly what happened.”
He nodded. “Which is why I finally had to tell you the truth.”
“The truth of you being a crazy stalker hell-bent on keeping me all to yourself? Yup, I see it now.”
“I’ve always been there for you. Through thick and thin I did my best to be the friend you needed. The friend who would do anything for you and hope you’d see how much I love you.”
I exploded, all intentions of playing peacemaker and settling the matter civilly shattering into dust. The sudden fury had me considering each word carefully before speaking to keep the stuttering at bay. “Oh, I see. I see you’ve lied to me our entire lives and you’ve come clean now to suit your own purposes. You think you can spend all these hours, these years, buttering me up and playing God with my life, only to spring this on me when it’s convenient for you? I feel like our friendship has been nothing but a sham.”
A terrible, horrible joke. Like someone had ripped the wool from my eyes and I now saw the world for what it was: a cold place where everyone had an ulterior motive. Even Augie. I saw him now through crystal-clear lenses, saw that beneath the handsome exterior lay nothing but calculation. Not the great guy I knew and adored. The guy I might love if only I could admit it to myself.
“It hasn’t been a sham!” His voice broke and surprised me into staying silent. “I’m still the same me. The same August who helped you with your philosophy homework and drove you to school in the mornings.”
I wanted to believe him. He looked the same, with those auburn curls a bit too long, the blue eyes and long, lanky frame. I spun on my heel and turned away from him, pressing my fingers to my mouth to hold in the scream I wanted to give voice.
“You have to believe I never did any of this to hurt you. Isabel, I love you.”
August crossed to me once more, placing his hands on my shoulders and forcing me to look at him. “I love you.”
Shock numbed me. “Repeating it doesn’t make it better. I’m the world’s stupidest woman. Get your hands off me.” I broke his hold and strode to the door before remembering I had no car. No escape. Yes, talk about stupid. Panic rose until my breathing turned shallow, burning my throat. I fought against the tears wanting to spring forth in all their salty fury.
I pointed a finger at him again, although I knew I had no leg to stand on. “You leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry.”
I heard the change in his voice. August would have continued to apologize, for anything and everything, to get me to quiet down. To soothe when I could not calm myself.
I thought of flight as I whirled past him to the kitchen. It didn’t surprise me when he blocked the way, attempting to wrap me in his arms, bury my face in his shoulder and let me sob.
“Please, say something,” he begged. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I know I was wrong, completely out of line, but please don’t cry.”
I whipped back around toward the front door although he tried to stop me again. “You know what your problem is, August? You only think about yourself. I know I’m self-absorbed, but I would never attempt to order another person’s life.”
I choked, unable to think, to reason, to consider the consequences of this earth-shattering moment. “Between you and Duncan, I’m not sure who betrayed me more. The person wanting to marry me or the one claiming to love me! If this is love, then I don’t want any part of it.” I would wash my hands of them both.
“I didn’t expect it to get too far with them,” August put in quickly. “I only wanted her to distract him. I never thought they would actually sleep together.”
I shuddered, feeling the sword through my heart again. Pain swelled for an instant before disengagement settled in. I happily accepted the blanket of indifference, clutched it to me and reveled in the blessed detachment.
“Well, they did,” I said without fire, without having to think. “And it’s no one’s fault but my own.”
I had to get out of there. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in until I heard nothing but the sounds of my own agony reflected back to me.
“This is not your fault,” August said adamantly. “Whatever they chose to do, it was of their own free will. You had nothing to do with it, and you deserve much better.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me I deserve you?”
“No. The opposite, actually. I’ve been wrong to keep you in the dark. Wrong and selfish, which is why I couldn’t let you go through with…with what almost happened.”
I spared a glance at the couch as the tips of my ears went red. “You’re such a gentleman,” I said dryly.
“You should thank me for it.” His voice was solemn.
“Again, you want a thank-you. I’m in a fucking alternate universe, here!” If I could have strangled him, I would. Unfortunately, he had about fifty pounds on me and a hell of a lot more muscle. The impassiveness kept me from reacting.
August stood still for a moment before speaking again. “Maybe not a thank-you, but a little appreciation, because in the end, I tried to do the right thing. I’m not asking for more. I know I fucked up. But my intentions were good.”
“If you weren’t asking for more, then you would have let me get married.” End of story. All the anger, the embarrassment, the shock…it all melted away into nothing. I stood there, apathetic, and at long last able to meet his eyes.
My reaction should have shocked me for the utter lack of anything. Like someone had flipped a switch. Instead it gave me the strength to see August for what he was instead of what I wanted him to be.
The coldness in my chest, the tightness of my muscles, the shortness of breath, all should have upset me. They didn’t.
“I want you to take me home right now.” I kept my voice strong, pleased when it held.
August scoffed. “I’m not driving you back to your hotel room. No matter what you think of me, I won’t deliver you to Duncan. I may have pressed Leda’s advantage, but he acted on it, and I can’t forgive him for what he did.”
I wanted to say I didn’t give two shits about Duncan. He’d been the first man to be kind and responsible, and I’d wanted to be married so badly. I could have been content with him, true.
But it was too much. Too much to th
ink about, too much to try and get a handle on, and I was tired. So tired I had a difficult time keeping myself erect.
Yet I did.
No matter what I’d said about myself, or how August felt, I stayed strong. “No, I want to go home,” I emphasized. “To my own house.”
“You want to be alone in a half-finished shell?”
“More than ever.” I dragged the ends of my shirt around me, feeling the goose bumps on my arms though I hardly noticed them. “Take me home. Now.”
I didn’t say please. I wouldn’t beg, not anymore.
August quietly gathered his car keys. I led the way out and didn’t look back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
My second night alone in the old house wasn’t as bad as the first. I thought it would be, alone with my sorrows and betrayed by the two people who’d vowed to stand by my side. One as a friend and the other as a husband.
Lazy beams of moonlight came in over my shoulder through the open door and fell on my engagement ring. Looking at it felt like a bad joke. In an instant it no longer seemed real, one of those fake rings from a gumball machine. Put in a quarter and out comes the bling.
I slammed the front door as hard as I pleased, ripped the shoes off my feet and hurled them across the empty space.
This rage was different. It did not cool, did not still. I let it course through every part of my anatomy until it settled into my veins, my nerves, my goddamn blood. Anger fueled me while I walked up to the bedroom and beat my fists on the wall. Anger had me yanking off my clothes, anything that touched August, and heaving them out the open window.
I expected crying too. All kinds of sobs to rub a person raw from the inside out. The kind of tears that were dry when they came out.
I wasn’t in the mood to cry.
Instead I lay on the comforter, baring my teeth against the injustices. Listening to the crickets and spring peepers outside and trying to figure out a plan of attack, realizing I had nothing.
This was more than a mere speed bump. This was a major detour. The way I saw it, I had two options at my disposal. A: I could be an adult and settle my issues with a calm, logical conversation.