Absolution

by S. Kirkpatrick

  “I don’t want to play games, Brody. I just think we need to talk.”

  “Since when do we ever do shit like that?” I say, losing my patience with this whole fucking night.

  She’s not my fucking girlfriend and if I haven’t made that abundantly clear by now then she’s in for a damn rude awakening. I’m juggling too much as it is, I don’t need some whacked-out notions of hers to push me off the goddamn cliff I’m already dangling from. No one gets to make that call but me.

  “We don’t. And I’ve never minded that before because we were both after the same things. But I don’t think we’re on the same page anymore.”

  I sigh, rubbing my eyes. I don’t fucking need this shit tonight. I don’t even need to be here anymore at all. I’ll be lucky if the cops don’t show up soon to arrest my ass for attempted murder. That bastard is lucky that I left him breathing after he put his hands on my girl. Especially with her body being as wrecked as it is right now.

  My girl? What the fuck is wrong with me today?

  Remi hasn’t been my girl in a long damn time.

  “Can we do this a different day, Brooke? I’m exhausted, I just want to go home.”

  “I’m not waiting out here because I’m fawning over you. Don’t flatter yourself.” She laughs, sardonically. “I’m here because we’re both adults. If it’s a spade, call it a spade, Brody. I’m not blind and I’m not stupid. I don’t want to be casually fucking a guy that’s obviously in love with someone right here in the same town. That doesn’t sit right with me. I was okay with us using each other when we were just trying to fill an empty space, but what you want is in the next fucking room. I think you either need to go after her or get over her. Either way, I don’t want to be wrapped up in this while you figure it out. We need a clean break.”

  Get over her… She says it like it’s so goddamn easy.

  Remi isn’t the type of girl you just get over. She’s the girl that sneaks her way inside your soul without even a whisper as to how the hell she ended up there. She’s the girl that haunts your dreams like a fucking PTSD attack from hell. She’s the girl that’s so beautiful that it hurts to look at her anymore. Something akin to staring directly in the sun. Yet instead of burning your eyes, she scorches your heart and soul instead.

  “There’s nothing between me and Remi anymore.” The lie falls off my tongue with a tone that sounds almost rehearsed. Whether I like it or not, there will always be something between us. “There’s nothing to go back to. She was in no condition to be in that scene with him, and he should have known better. I was just protecting her.”

  “Is that what you call almost killing someone to get to her?” Her voice raises with accusation. “You could have called a moderator over, you could have talked to the fucking owner that was standing five feet away from you before you went and Hulked out on that poor guy. You had options and you know it. That wasn’t protecting her, Brody. That was claiming her. Everyone seems to realize that except the two of you.”

  I open my mouth to object but she raises her hands, cutting me off with a shake of her head. Her voice is barely above a whisper, her words laced in pain.

  “I don’t want to hear your denial, Brody. My husband, the man I loved more than anything in this world, was ripped away from me before I got the chance to grow old with him. There isn’t a price I wouldn’t pay to have him back again. Your girl is here, alive and breathing, right in front of you. No matter what happened between you two, no matter what shit you still hold to, you have something I don’t. You have a chance to be with her. Don’t throw that away.”

  She hops down from my tailgate and slams it closed, tears falling down her face. I envelop her in a hug, as she shakes and cries for her dead husband in my arms. She holds on to me as tight as she can as the wails overtake her, her knees bending slightly, giving out under the weight of her emotions. The sounds ripping out of her make me feel like she’s latching onto memories of her previous life, of a man that she’ll never get to see again.

  Her pain reminds me of my own. Of the pain that I faced in the weeks and months after losing both Remi and Oaklynn before I even opened my eyes on that dreadful day.

  I think about how many times I’ve thought of horrible things happening to Remi, wanting to reap revenge on her for what she did to our daughter. But even then, I never allowed myself to imagine what it would really be like if she was actually gone. In my heart, I always knew she was out there somewhere.

  I imagined what would happen when I ever ran into her again. My thoughts were always about ‘when I found her’ and ‘when I saw her again.’ Deep down I always knew she’d find her way back to me. Somehow, someway, regardless if I wanted it or not. Regardless of how much time passed between us or not. She’d find me.

  She always has.

  When I hear Brooke trying to pull herself together, I pick her up and carry her to my truck, placing her inside like the fragile china doll she currently feels like, telling her that she’s in no condition to drive home. She nods, knowing it’s the truth and buckles herself in willingly.

  I’ve been to her place a few times, so she’s able to lean her seat back, curled up in a ball, instead of having to navigate the streets for me. Her breaths heave in and out, the pain never releasing her.

  I realize that’s exactly how I felt when Remi left. There were months of pain before there was ever anger. The anger I feel didn’t happen immediately, it crept in overtime after every lead turned up empty when I was searching for her. Even with losing Oaklynn, back then I still just wanted to find Remi and bring her home. I wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

  All this time without her caused my feelings to fester, allowing them to boil into this angry inferno that I unleash at Remi every time I see her, now that she’s around. But underneath that anger, underneath all that hate, there’s pain and sadness. Because I didn’t just lose one of my girls that day. I lost them both.

  The anger is how I cope because just like I told Remi tonight, love and hate are two sides of the same coin. I couldn’t hate her this fiercely if it wasn’t born out of an equal amount of love.

  When we arrive outside of Brooke’s house, I unbuckle her and carry her all the way upstairs to her room, tucking her in. I get her some water and aspirin, placing them beside her bed. Right next to a photo of her and her fallen husband.

  I know they say that time heals all wounds, but for people like Brooke and me, I don’t know if that’s true. It seems like our wounds continuously break open without explanation, keeping the pain fresh and in the forefront of our minds, never us letting go.

  Never letting us heal.

  As I turn out the light and move to close the door behind me, Brooke’s bed makes a squeaking sound. I look to see her sitting up in bed, bloodshot eyes on me.

  “Will you do me a favor?” She whispers.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Will you go to her? Will you try one last time?” She begs.

  My mouth hangs open at her request, the last thing in the world that I expected her to ask. There’s so much that I need to sit and think about, things I need to work out in my own mind before I can even consider something like that.

  “Goodnight, Brooke. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” I say, refusing to lie to her when I have no idea where my own heart and head are at right now.

  I close the door behind me, making quick work of heading down to my truck. I need a fucking drink. This night has been a whirlwind.

  I grab my phone out of the cup holder, typing out a text to the guys, inviting them to Henry’s to come and have a drink with me while I sort through all of my shit. My finger hesitates over the send button, realizing that they’re probably at home with their families right now. Everyone except Ryan, he’s probably off trying to get laid, and I’m in no mood to deal with his flippancy tonight.

  I close out the message, without sending it, deciding that it’s probably best if I digest this shit on my own. I can tal
k to them about it at work soon. Or never.

  That sounds like a better option.

  I turn on some music, needing some background noise while the fresh night air filters in from the rolled-down windows. The city is calm tonight, nothing too loud to break my concentration as the yellow lines fly under my tires for miles and miles.

  Remington fucking Jameson.

  The only woman that I’ve ever loved. The only woman who’s ever fucking shattered me into millions of pieces, not even bothering to sweep up the slivers that she left on the ground. And yet she’s always there, in the back of my mind, whether I even admit it to myself or not. I can lie to myself all day long and say that I never let myself think about her, but that’s just how I cope with waking up every day without her next to me.

  How did we get here? How did shit get so messed up? One day I’m stepping into our apartment with so many rubber ducks filling the space that it feels like a hostage takeover and then one day she’s getting an abortion. One day we’re planning a wedding and she’s staring at her engagement ring like it’s the most precious thing she’s ever seen, and then next she says she’s not ready to be someone’s wife.

  Where did things go so wrong?

  I think back to the days and weeks leading up to her vanishing act, trying to see if there were signs that I might have missed. Did she give any clues? Were there any warnings?

  I try to hone in on the day before she left, telling myself that if she was planning on taking off, she would have at least had a clue the day before, right?

  What were we doing the day before she left?

  I stop at a red light and I’m pulled from my train of thought as the song switches over. The lyrics in the beginning call to the angry part of my brain. The part of me that relies on hating Remi so that I can fucking survive another goddamn day in this world without her. Without Oaklynn.

  ‘I don’t see you. You’re not in every window I look through. And I don’t miss you. You’re not in every single thing I do. I don’t think we’re meant to be. And you’re not the missing piece. I won’t hear it, whenever anybody says your name. And I won’t feel it, even when I’m bursting into flames.’

  It’s the denial in his words that resonates with me so deeply, making the angry side of my brain feel a sense of validation. But as soon as that thought solidifies, the chorus starts, punching me in the chest with the truth. It reminds me of what Brooke said to me tonight, sitting on the tailgate of my truck.

  ‘I was okay with us using each other when we were just trying to fill an empty space.”

  James Arthur’s voice lulls me into his lyrics, conveying my thoughts so perfectly that I listen intently, hoping for a clue as to where the hell I go from here.

  The truth is, I’m at a fucking fork in this bullshit road that we call life. And I worry that no matter what decision I make, no matter which way I turn, I’ll be trapped in this cycle of pain and anger regardless.

  ‘I’m probably lyin’ to myself again. I’m alone in my head, lookin’ for love in a stranger’s bed. But I don’t think I’ll find it. ‘Cause only you could feel this empty space. I want to tell all my friends but I don’t think they would understand. It’s something I’ve decided ‘cause only you could fill this empty space.’

  I try to think of what has happened in my life that’s provided some sort of fulfillment since the day she left. Someone lays on the horn behind me, letting me know it’s time to pull my head out of my ass and get my shit together.

  Take a number, asshole. Everyone in my life is waiting on the same thing right about now.

  I make the turn into Henry’s bar, questioning the last three years of my life from a new perspective. I kill the engine and make my way inside. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize I’ve even sat down until Henry sits two fingers of whiskey in front of me and walks away. I guess I’m giving off the vibes tonight that I’m not really in a chatty mood.

  Fulfillment. What has been fulfilling since she left?

  DRAB is the first thing that comes to mind, of course. It’s been my dream since I was a kid and the only thing in my life that kept me moving forward when it felt like my world had crumbled at my feet. It’s the only reason I got out of bed once I realized I wasn’t going to find her…

  I get fulfillment by helping my family, both blood and chosen. Most recently, it’s been teaching the girls how to properly shoot a gun, knowing that they’re safer after getting comfortable with something that normally instills fear. It’s the same thing I felt when I taught Remi how to shoot all those years ago.

  Damn, that girl was a natural.

  I remember helping Sonya with Talon when they first met, driving across the state to pick her up when she needed someone. I didn’t even think twice about it. My little sis needed me, and I was there. That’s what family is for. Just like when I drove all around Cali looking for Remi when she left, I always put my family first.

  I smile to myself when I think of all the times I’ve helped Abel and Max with the twins, melting under the giggles of those ornery little girls. It felt damn good to help Dex set the crib up in the nursery at his and Bree’s house too. That fool was way in over his head trying to figure that shit out.

  He took a beer break after just reading the initial instructions, having no idea what he was getting into when he bought a convertible crib. I had that thing put together before he was even done trying to watch instructional YouTube videos. It was similar to the one I bought for Oaklynn so I was pretty familiar with the overall setup and how those confusing little metal pieces weren’t actually meant to be used until the crib got converted later on down the road.

  The thoughts of my happiness and fulfillment come over the course of several glasses of whiskey. The warmer I get from the alcohol, the more my walls come down, allowing me to be honest with myself in a way I haven’t been in quite some time.

  Fuck, I’m feeling ten kinds of warm and fuzzy after all that sweet, sweet, Jameson.

  Jameson. Remi Jameson.

  My infuriating Little Wolf.

  A drunken quiet laugh escapes my lips when I remember that the only reason I switched from rum to whiskey in the first place was when I met Remi and found out that her last name was Jameson. At the time I made jokes that it was just as sweet as she was.

  Henry sits a glass of water in front of me, letting me know the bar closes in fifteen minutes but that I’m good to stay as long as I need. Our crazy ass little family gets extra special perks at Henry’s bar due to the fatherly relationship he made with the girls long before us guys met them.

  It’s funny to think that the girls have been in Deacon Hill less time than us guys have but made such a potent connection at this little bar before we ever did. Me, the rest of the guys, and Bree were born and raised here whereas the girls didn’t move here until a few years before we moved home.

  We only left town once Bree was able to get her own place and take care of herself. She was barely old enough to drink when we left. Even though Abel ‘fathered’ her more than he ‘brothered’ her, he wasn’t gonna be a hypocrite and tell her that she couldn’t drink when he knew damn good and well that he got wasted even in high school. So instead of frequenting the local bars, knowing Bree couldn’t come with us, we preferred to either go to parties or fuck around at the beach together instead. We only started coming to Henry’s once we moved back home.

  I realize all too quickly that I drank way more than I should have. I only wanted to get a little tipsy, numbing some of the fucking pain in my heart, but I’d be a damn liar if I tried to deny that I’m fucking sloshed.

  Have you ever been so tanked that not just your words, but your goddamn thoughts are slurred?

  Yeah… I’m there.

  I take a sip of water, needing to cool myself down before I order an Uber to take me home. The ice-cold water hits my tongue with such a shock that I have a pathetic epiphany that damn near knocks me on my ass. I can’t tell if it’s
the whiskey making me crazy, or hell, maybe’s it’s the fact that I’m so drunk that I’ve lowered my guard so much that it’s giving me clarity for the first time in three miserable years.

  Every single thought I had about happiness and fulfillment since Remi left… It’s all connected to her and Oaklynn. I’ve been chasing the happiness that those two girls brought me, keeping it fresh and present in my life, even after I lost them.

  Protecting the girls when I clearly couldn’t protect the woman I loved. Building a crib with a full heart, remembering when I built the same one for my daughter. Chasing after Sonya when she needed help, wishing I could have found Remi when I chased after her. My adoration for Abel’s twins, always willing to help because those are memories I never got to make with Oaklynn.

  Holy fucking shit!

  Every bit of happiness I’ve chased since she left, was all so I could try and live the life we planned together.

  As Henry locks the door behind the last customer, my head is spinning with this realization, latching on to so many other memories that prove my theory over and over again.

  Am I the only one that’s realized this? Have the guys and Bree noticed it too, keeping it to themselves so I didn’t have to face what’s been right in front of me the whole goddamn time?

  While Henry washes the glasses in the sink at the other end of the bar, another person inches into the side of my slowly narrowing vision, making their way behind the bar.

  “You can go home, Henry, I can finish up.” She says.

  My head rises up in what feels like slow motion as I take in the scene unfolding in front of me. What in the actual fuck is happening right now?

  “Oh, little Remi-girl, you’re too good to me.” He chuckles, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

  “After all these years, it’s the least I can do. Go home old man, I’ll see you in the morning.” She laughs, shooing him away by swatting him with a dry dishtowel.