Love Is Beautiful (Chelsea & Max)

by Abby Brooks

  26

  I wait until Chelsea is asleep before I untangle myself from her and climb out of bed. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight. My mind is not going to turn off, that’s for sure. If I’m not worrying about Charlie, then I’m worrying about Chelsea. And if I’m not worrying about either of them, then I’m worrying about myself. These people need my protection. But I’m not sure I’m ready to have my house filled with an instant family. I love them both, no doubt in my mind about that. But … what?

  But I don’t want to give up my privacy. And what happens on my dark days? The days I’m not strong enough to keep myself from sinking down into the depths of maddening memories? I can’t hold them up when I’m not strong enough to keep myself afloat. And for all my bravado about not letting Charlie get put into the system, how the fuck do I think I’m going to keep that from happening?

  Do I think I’m going to adopt him? Because a single man, a goddamned police officer who works weird hours and puts his life in jeopardy every time he goes to work, that’s not the kind of home they’re going to want to put Charlie in. I pace my living room, my fists tight, my jaw tighter. But fuck. I can’t let him go to just anyone. I can’t abandon him, not after his own mother did.

  And then there’s Chelsea and that dead mouse on her doorstep. My instincts are raging on that one. It’s got crazy stalker written all over it. And if the guy is off center enough to kill a mouse and leave it like some deranged gift, then he’s crazy enough to do just about anything. And so, she can’t go home. Not until I find the guy and know she’s safe. But how can I do that when I’ve got to deal with the Charlie thing? When I don’t have enough evidence to really get an official case started?

  So, what? I’m just going to keep these two people here in my house forever? Never mind that he has to go to school and she has to go to work and I am not equipped for this. I continue to pace, muttering to myself, careful to stay quiet, but Reagan hears me anyway. She comes barreling out of Charlie’s room, her tags jingling abrasively in the silence of the house. I unclip her collar so she doesn’t wake Charlie and Chelsea and head into the kitchen for a beer.

  What I need is a plan. I need to set a course. Know where I’m going, why I’m going in that direction, and how I’m going to get there. I grab a pen and paper, sit down at the table, and start writing. At some point, I switch from beer to coffee and as the sun peeks through the slats in my blinds, I’m starting to feel like I have a decent course of action laid out for us. There are still a ton of unanswered questions and a lot of uncertainty, but at least I know how I want to proceed. At least I can see a way to get from where we are to where I want to get us.

  Never mind the fact that I’m wholly uncertain as to whether I actually want to be where I plan on taking us. That actual decision has been taken right out of my hands. There are several truths operating here. One, I’m in love with Chelsea and will not do anything to put her in danger. Taking her home will put her in danger, at least until I can be certain that the stalker threat is neutralized.

  And two, I will fight to keep Charlie safe and sane. If I am the one thing he’s had to look forward to, then I will continue to be the kind of guy who earns statements like that. I will not let this kid down. I will not abandon him when he needs me most.

  Today will be all about distraction. I’ll take them out. Spend some more money, it’s not like I need to worry about running out. Grandma saw to that. Tomorrow, we’ll go back to Charlie’s apartment. See if I can get the landlord to give us any information, maybe get a clue as to whether his mom might be back or not. We’ll drive by Chelsea’s house after that. I can check around to make sure that everything is as it should be and she can grab all the stuff she needs for an extended stay at my house and then we’ll talk about moving her in permanently. It’s fast. Drastic. But necessary.

  I have to work on Sunday, and while I’m there I’ll look into what I need to do to get some sort of custody of Charlie. I’m in no way ready to be a full-time parent, but, who really ever is? And as much as my stomach churns with the thought of it, I couldn’t respect myself if I just let the kid go.

  Feeling better about things, I close my notebook and start pulling stuff out of the fridge for breakfast. It’s going to be a long day without sleep, but I’ve been here before and I know how to handle myself. Besides, today isn’t about me. It’s about taking care of the people who need me.

  “What do you mean, you think she split?” The landlord at Charlie’s apartment isn’t exactly happy to see us. He rakes a hand through his thinning hair and hikes up his pants. “She still owes me the last two months’ rent.”

  I’ve already explained the situation to him once, but I go ahead and explain it again. Calm and cool and collected. Today, I intend to catch my flies with honey, rather than the vinegar that’s actually coursing through my veins.

  “If you could just let us into the apartment, maybe we could see if she happened to leave any of the boy’s stuff,” I say, wrapping my arm around Charlie’s shoulder as he hangs his head in shame. He’s been hard to read. Spent most of Friday smiling and silent and then fell asleep on top of his covers again, still dressed in his clothes, curled around his baby blanket like the night before.

  The old man mutters and grabs a ring of keys off a hook by the door before waddling his way out into the hallway. We follow him as he walks, muttering a ceaseless string of obscenities. Chelsea catches my eye and purses her brow while Charlie just chuckles at my side.

  “He always like this?” I whisper.

  Charlie nods. “He’s usually worse.”

  When we get inside the apartment, it’s evident that Charlie’s mom is gone for good. The place is disgusting. Piles of stuff on every imaginable surface, the floor sticky and covered in bits and pieces of food and trash. But the furniture is gone. And the closets are empty. I watch Charlie wander through the place, trying to gauge his reaction and failing miserably. The boy is tough. I’ll give him that.

  “Well. That’s that, I guess,” says the old man with a shake of his head and a wipe of his nose on the back of his hand. “Don’t look like she’s planning on being back.” His eyes settle on Charlie and bounce to me. It looks like he’s about to ask a question, but I silence him by stepping forward.

  “Thank you so much for letting us in.” I hand him one of my business cards and he looks at me differently after reading it, now that he knows I’m a cop. “You give me a call if you hear anything.”

  And with that, we are very much done here. I guide Chelsea and Charlie out of the place with the full and complete intention of never coming back.

  27

  There’s something so very final in seeing Charlie’s empty bedroom. I think we all feel it, even the crazy old man with the keys. We leave the place and I can’t help but watch the boy and wonder what’s going on in his head and heart. Kids are supposed to be so resilient, and given the shape of that apartment, he’s probably used to dealing with heavier stuff than I even know how to imagine. But, resilient or not, this has to be hard on him.

  I expect another awkwardly silent car ride back to Max’s house and am shocked when Charlie pipes up from the back seat.

  “Kinda feels good to know she’s gone,” he says. “Does that make me a bad person? That I don’t want my mom to come back?”

  I don’t have an answer for him, but thankfully, Max does.

  “Of course it doesn’t. Didn’t you tell me the other day that you used her as an example of how not to be?”

  “Yeah.” Charlie’s voice is hesitant.

  “Seems like that might be the kind of person who would be hard to miss once she’s gone.”

  “She wasn’t very nice. Yelled a lot. Slept all the time. I don’t think she liked me. I tried to be quiet. But like, sometimes when I got real hungry, I’d try to get some food, but I’d always drop stuff or make a mess and she’d get so mad.” He pauses, furrowing his brows. “But I don’t think it’s supposed to be like that, is it? It’s not like
that on TV. Or if it is, it’s usually because the mom is a bad guy.”

  I’ve never heard that many words come out of his mouth at once. I mean, I don’t think I’ve heard that many words come out of his mouth in the entire time we’ve spent together over the last couple days. That alone is shocking. But when you add the content of what he actually said into the equation? I’m so out of my depth I don’t know what to do.

  “You think your mom is bad?” Max asks.

  Charlie nods. “Yeah. She sure ain’t good, I know that. But I think it’s worse. I think she breaks the law a lot.”

  I catch Max’s eyes for just a fraction of a second. He takes a breath and lets it out through his nose.

  “You’re a smart kid. I’m sure you’re seeing things the way they are.”

  “She always said my dad was a loser. But if my mom is bad, and my dad is bad, does that mean I’m bad, too?”

  “Nope,” says Max, not missing a beat. “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. One that only a very few people know about me.” He pulls the car into his driveway, kills the engine, and spins in his seat to face Charlie. “My dad was a bad man. A criminal. He broke lots of laws and made every bad decision out there. For a long time, I was afraid that meant I was a bad person, too. That I was just going to wake up one day and lose control of myself and start hurting people. But you know what? I’m not a bad guy. Like you, I decided to use his life as an example of how not to be.”

  “So you think I’m going to be okay?”

  “Charlie. I know you’re going to be okay.”

  We climb out of the car and head into the house. I clean up the breakfast dishes while Max gets the Xbox hooked up for Charlie. So much has happened, I don’t even know how to process it all. When I think back to the gruff, asshole cop who pulled me over all those months ago, the guy who stood on the front steps of the police station and told me in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t a family man, I can’t even begin to marry him with the guy in the other room. The guy who is sweeping in and putting a little boy back together piece by piece. The guy who hasn’t let me go home yet because of a silly little dead mouse on my front porch.

  A guy who hasn’t slept in days, yet still manages to smile. Still managed to take us out yesterday for more fun than I think Charlie has ever had in his whole life. I always thought my family was made up of good people. Watching the way Max has handled these past few days has changed the way I see … everything. My family is polite. Max is good. There’s a very distinct difference.

  Would my dad be working so hard if he were in Max’s situation? No. He wouldn’t. Charlie would be at the police station. I would be at home, jumping out of my skin at every little bump in the night, and my dad would have very politely offered us the all the best on his way out the door.

  The respect I have for Max has grown exponentially over the last few days, and, if I’m honest, I’m worried about him. I know he hasn’t slept. And I know he has to work tomorrow. Which worries him because he’ll have to leave Charlie and me alone and that means he won’t sleep much tonight, either. And to top all the worry off, I keep wondering how he’s handling all this. After all, he is the guy who swore he wouldn’t do family, and here we are, an awkward little family for the foreseeable future. Is he okay sharing his home with us? Like really and truly okay?

  Our relationship is new. Wonderful, but new. He just told me he loved me for the first time the other day. Can we survive something this intense? My stomach falls to my feet. We have to survive this, because I don’t want to go back to surviving without him. I need him. Not because I can’t be without him, but because I don’t want to be. Sure, if our relationship caves under this pressure, I’d go on with my life and keep putting one foot in front of the other like I always have. But it’d be like living in the dark, all the while craving the sun, remembering its warmth.

  Heavy thoughts for a heavy day, I guess.

  Max wanders into the kitchen as I finish the dishes. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his shoulders are rounded forward. It’s not a posture I’m used to seeing on my strong, proud man. I don’t like it.

  “Can we talk?” he asks, his eyes on the floor.

  “Sure.” I take a seat at the kitchen table. Perch uneasily at the edge of the thing, hands clasped in my lap. Back straight. Heart still. Breath held.

  “It’s been a hard couple days,” he says as he takes a seat next to me. Elbows on knees. Eyes on floor.

  “Isn’t that the truth.” My mouth is working on autopilot.

  “It’s a lot to adjust to, you know?”

  I just nod, terrified to hear that he has used up all his good and is moving on to polite.

  He looks up. His eyes settle on mine and I see through to his soul and damn if this man doesn’t move me with the power of who he is. My breath quickens.

  “I love you, Chelsea. I don’t say that lightly. I mean it from the bottom of my heart with everything I know is true about me. And I know that I things are going to be weird, what with Charlie here, and our relationship being kind of new, but…”

  He pauses and I’m so confused I don’t know what to say. I thought he was going to break up with me, but now I’m not so sure.

  “I want you to move in,” he says and takes my hands in his. “Not just until we figure out what’s going on at your house and not just until we figure out what’s going on with Charlie. I want to share my bed with you and I never want to worry whether or not you’re safe. I want to know you’re safe. Because you’re here. With me.”

  My heart surges with happiness while my brain goes to work dampening everything. I want to jump up and say yes, over and over again, yes, but the demon-bitch in my head is busy reminding me all the reasons to say no.

  He hasn’t slept and isn’t thinking clearly.

  He doesn’t really want you. He just feels obligated.

  He wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t for all the crazy happening lately.

  You’ll move in and he’ll realize that you’re not enough.

  You’re not enough for him.

  You’re never going to be good enough.

  My mouth opens and closes while the bitch goes on her tirade. I can’t get a word out.

  “I know it’s fast. I know you probably think it’s stupid. Probably even think it has more to do with the situation and less to do with me actually wanting to live with you.”

  I find my voice. “That thought did cross my mind.”

  Max nods. “I figured. And I’d be lying if I told you that this weekend hasn’t sped up the decision making process. But believe me when I say, I want you here because I love you and don’t want to be without you. Not because of some jerk hanging around outside your house. He just helped me to see how much I want you a little sooner than I might have otherwise.”

  “It’s a big step,” I say, still busy listening to my head rather than my heart.

  “I know. But don’t you think it’s an inevitable step? I mean, when I pay close attention to how I really feel about you, I know there’s no other person out there who’s going to match me the way you do. I mean, really. If you say no, we’re just delaying the inevitable because we’re going to live together eventually.” Max smiles, those bullet blue eyes lighting my heart on fire.

  As much as I want to say yes, I can’t quite bring myself to say it. Not while I’m still sure he’s more motivated by his desire to protect me than an actual desire to live with me. But as much as I think I should say no, I can’t bring myself to say that either.

  I’m literally silenced by indecision.

  Max’s brow furrows. “You should say something.”

  “I know.”

  “But you aren’t.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “Why?”

  I take a breath. Hold it for a second. How honest should I be?

  One look at Max, this man I love and respect so much gives me my answer. Totally honest.

  “Because I’m afraid to say yes and fin
d out that you only want me here because of what’s happening. That when it all dies down, you’ll be sorry you asked me. That I won’t be enough for you or that I’ll be too much. I’m afraid to say yes and ruin what we have and I’m afraid to say no and ruin what we have.”

  “Oh my sweet girl. You are everything to me. The perfect amount of everything. Stop worrying so much and just say you’ll move in with me. I love you so much and want to wake up to your smiling face every day.”

  I open my mouth to say no. To tell him it’s too soon. Imagine my surprise when I say yes.

  “Okay.” I nod, happiness filling every ounce of my body. “Yeah. I’ll move in with you.”

  Max stands and pulls me into his arms. “You will?”

  “Yeah.” I nod now, more and more certain that this is the right decision. Max kisses me and for just a moment I let myself forget about all the craziness of the weekend and just let myself be happy in the one place I feel best, wrapped up in his arms, my body pressed to his.

  28

  Later that day, the three of us drive over to my house so I can get my car and a few more of my things. Max walks me up to the door and checks the lock and front windows for any signs of tampering before I let us in. He peers through the front door while I peek out from around his shoulder. It’s amazing how ominous the house feels, given how safe I felt here just last week. Oh, how quickly things can change.

  “Tell you what,” says Max. “You go on in, I’m going to take Charlie around the outside here and show him some of the things I look for when I’m trying to keep the things most important to me safe.” Max drops a wink my way and it does wonders to my anxiety levels. If he’s joking around, he’s not stressed and if he’s not stressed, then he’s not really all that concerned about something bad happening to us while we’re here.