by Kelsey Soliz
she’d serve as a poor substitute to Amelia Poppy. Times where I actually
valued her friendship. Found her attractive, wanted her body.
Now, all I can thrum up is disgust. When I think about us being together,
and what Amelia was actually going through when we did it, I want to
punch something. Kill something.
“Funny thing, Amelia kind of needed me more. In fact, she’s always
needed me more.”
Sophie flinches, and I see the terror in her eyes as she realizes I found
Amelia.
“How did you find her?”
“That’s what you want to say? You knew; you knew all this time that she
was alive, that I mourned her, that I was torn, ripped, obliterated into
millions of pieces by what I thought was her death. And you had the ability
to stop that. And by the way, what the fuck was in that casket you fake-
cried over? What kind of a sick person fakes a funeral??
“You left Amelia alone when she needed us the most. She nearly died,
and had to rely on the goodwill of strangers to heal and rehabilitate,
because she had no family willing nor any friends that were given a damn
bit of knowledge that could have helped her.
“You say you were embarrassed? Fuck you, Sophie. You’ll never be good
enough for me, for any of us.”
“You’re seriously telling me you’d rather fuck a cripple than be with
me?”
“I could go the rest of my life without once using my dick again and I’d
still choose her. You don’t get it. We’re soulmates. I’ve been fucking
stubborn about it, but I’ve been hers since we were five years old. I don’t
care who the fuck you think you are, nobody can touch that. If I ever see
you anywhere near her again, so help me you will regret it.”
I try to leave, shaking with rage, but as she closes the door, I hear her
whisper words that make my blood run into ice.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
I have the cops called before the door is locked. I sit on her front porch
hating myself, lost to all the years of pain that never should have happened
between Amelia and I. That girl had been through way too damn much and
she was still the prettiest thing, the sweetest thing, the only thing I ever
wanted.
It seems maybe things are changing, because the cop that shows up is one
that I went to school with. One that knew Amelia, knew what she meant to
me.
“Alex?”
I shake Anderson’s hand, but I break. I fall to my knees as great,
wracking sobs run through my body, pouring my confession to him. He
says the only way to bring Sophie in is if Amelia will press charges, come
forward with the abuse she experienced and her suspicions. The threats. Or,
if Sophie is dumb enough to repeat what she just said so it’s not a he-said
she-said situation. But unfortunately, I knew Sophie wasn’t dumb enough to
confess to arson and attempted murder to a cop. Not when she had been
cleared years ago.
I don’t want to put Amelia through this, but more than that, I need to take
care of her and make sure she can’t be hurt anymore. It takes a few seconds
of staring at her name in my phone to understand I can actually call her,
actually speak with her.
I’m not sure how long it will take for my brain to accept she’s in our life
again.
“Amelia, God, I’m so sorry to ask you this.”
“Alex, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important to me. I know that Cam
and Constantine will back me on this as soon as I call them, but is there any
way you would agree to meeting me at the police station?”
“Oh my God, did you get arrested? What did you do??”
I bark a laugh. “No, Amelia Poppy. I’m not under arrest. I wish I were
actually, because that would probably be easier for you. No, I need you to
talk to the police about…everything. Your aunt, your cousin, everything
they did.”
“Alex?” Already her voice is shaking as she tries to escape those
memories.
“Amelia, it was Sophie. She started the fire.”
The phone drops and I hear someone over there running towards her,
calling her name, before Theo is on the line. I explain what happened,
begging. Fuck my pride.
“We can’t do this to her, Alex.”
“This is the only way I can see to protect her. I wasn’t there last time, or
the time before that. Don’t you get that?”
The phone goes back to Amelia, but I almost don’t recognize her voice.
“Amelia, Butterfly, please.”
“I can’t, Alex. Please don’t ask me to do this.”
“I’ve failed you so many times. I can’t do that again. If I have the ability
to keep someone away from you that might come after you, how can you
ask me to say no?”
“You weren’t there, Alex. You don’t know what it was like. How much it
hurt to go to therapy and open everything up with a double-edged knife.”
“I know, but-”
“Alex. If you love me, you’d at least try to see where I was coming from.
Respect my decision. My answer is no.”
“Amelia! You can put Sophie where she belongs! She admitted it! She
fucking hurt you, took you from me, from all of us, and you want me to just
walk away?”
“Will I get my eyes back if I do?”
“No.”
“Will my legs get better?”
“No.”
“Will it erase the last two years I spent mourning my life lost?”
“Amelia, please.”
“I have my answer then.”
“What answer?”
“I told you. You can’t love me, Alex. You can’t love me and ask this of
me. You only think you love me, but you don’t even know who I am
anymore. Just…I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
The line clicks dead and I stare at it, stunned. How the hell did we go
from me asking a favor to her more or less leaving me? And why did it
sound like she had been looking for an excuse to cut herself off from us
again? No, we had to do better than this.
I tell Anderson she won’t talk, so he says he can’t bring Sophie in
without charges. The case was closed. This technically isn’t evidence, so
he drives away, leaving me to consider if going on a murderous rampage on
my ex would be worth the jail time.
I look at my phone, nearly squeezing it to dust, but stop when I see
Amelia’s gorgeous fucking smile on my background. What did she mean, if
I loved her? Had I not been clear on that yet? Shit. I was letting my own
wants overshadow what might be best for Amelia- something that never
panned out in a healthy relationship.
I have half a mind to stomp back up to Sophie’s door and yell at her,
threaten her, but what would that really accomplish? I don’t trust myself to
not do something stupid, so I channel my inner Amelia and walk away,
praying like hell I can figure out how to prove to Amelia she can’t just cut
me out of her life, because we shared one now.
But was it too little, too late? Did she even want to marry me? Be with
me? She just told me she didn�
�t but could I change her mind? Or was this
too new, too fragile still? Whatever happened, it wouldn’t change the
disgust I feel towards Sophie, or with myself for letting it go so far between
us.
I want to go home, but something feels broken inside of me. Was that the
emptiness from Amelia thinking I didn’t love her?
Cameron
Three days. That’s how long I’ve been out here, working on building this
ramp to the house. Any sleep I claimed was on the couch in the garage, in
between cutting wood and installing it. But it was done. Amelia could now
get into our house where I know she will end up. Where she belongs.
Our next project was getting a room set up for Theo, because at this
point, we kind of understood they were a package deal. I’d always known
I’d share my life with not only Amelia but Constantine and Alex as well,
but for everything Theo has given back to Amelia, for all the times he was
there when we weren’t, we can’t bitch about the fact that they’re attached to
each other now. He earned his spot.
I can tell by the way Alex’s car spins on the gravel as he tears down the
driveway that he’s in a bad mood. Which means he probably just came from
Sophie’s. I lean against the porch railing, wiping the sweat off my forehead
and chugging some sweet tea as he storms out of his car, making straight
for the house.
He’s halfway up the new ramp before he realizes there’s no more stairs to
get up there. He looks around, in confusion, then falls to his knees, crying,
but like he doesn’t really know how he got there. I don’t know what to do
with a crying Alex. A crying Amelia, I can handle. She gets all sweet and
clingy and warm, and though I hate it when it happens, I love how much
she needs me when it does. The way her skin gets all salty and she gives me
all the trust she has to make her feel better. I can’t pick up Alex and rub his
back. That would be weird as shit.
I go and sit by him, laying on the ramp and letting the sun beat down on
us as the humid air tries to consume me.
“She doesn’t want me, Cam. I already fucked it up. She doesn’t love me.
We’re not getting her back, are we?”
He cries like the night of the fire. Soul deep, real pain. I know he’s being
a bit over the top, taking something Amelia said probably way out of
context, and letting it rot inside him until it’s a festering cloud of self-doubt.
Alex has always been the most fragile of us. That’s why it took him the
longest to come around to the fact that Amelia Poppy was meant to be ours.
He never thought he really deserved her that way. She’s too real.
“What happened?”
“I went to Sophie’s, to tell her off. I was so ANGRY! I…I’m just sick,
Cameron. I can’t stop thinking about everything. Every time I fucked her,
Amelia was somewhere in pain, alone. Every time she touched me, Amelia
was off wishing for us to have a good life. I just can’t take it.
“Sophie admitted it. She flat out said she started the fire. You guys were
right. I didn’t think her jealousy was that vile. I knew it stank, but to try and
kill her cousin? And I let her touch me! I kissed her! I can’t erase that.”
I kind of assumed, actually. There was just always something behind
Sophie’s eyes when Amelia got brought up. From the day we met her, I
knew she was bad news.
“Why aren’t you yelling at me?”
“Will it fix anything?” He’s completely spinning out of control, the
breakdown I’ve been expecting since we got her back finally delivered.
“God, you’re just like her.”
“What?”
“I wanted Amelia to go to the station and testify.”
“No, no. Please, Alex, tell me you didn’t ask her to?”
“Why? Why is that so bad?”
“Come on, get in the car.”
“She doesn’t want to see me.”
“When a woman is mad, and says she doesn’t want to see you, it means
one of two things. Either she doesn’t want to see you, or she doesn’t want to
tell you she wants to see you. If it’s the first, then you give her space while
you grovel. If it’s the second you show the hell up and prove to her you’re
not stepping back that easy. She’s scared, Alex.”
She’s painting when we make it to Theo’s, and it’s mesmerizing to watch
her create. She’s got an entire card table wrapped in plastic wrap set up as a
paint palette. Big swatches of paint are all mixed up as she dips her fingers
into the goop and finds its home on the canvas that’s taller than she is.
She’s so calm, so beautiful, but I can see the fear hiding. She doesn’t
want to admit it, but she’s hoping Alex showed up and took the time to
understand her and fight for her. I can read it in the way she has her
shoulders tensed, like she’s trying to hold herself together, to not let herself
call him and try to fix it.
I shouldn’t think of their little lover’s spat as being cute, but when you
knew the two people as well as I did, it kind of was.
I get on my knees, crawling towards her slowly but making plenty of
noise so she hears me coming. I touch her chair before I touch her feet, then
her knees, making her pause what she’s doing to see me.
“Amelia Poppy.”
She blinks at me, as if surprised I’m there.
“Do you remember what we carved into that tree? Do we need to remind
you?”
“I haven’t gone back since…I couldn’t. Not without you.”
That almost hurts as much as hearing what she’s gone through. That tree
was once our safe place. I still remember the way the summer breeze
smelled when I chased after her at fourteen and stole our first kiss. The way
Constantine towered over her when he realized she loved us.
“What did we carve in that tree?”
“Forever.”
I keep her distracted while I slip the ring on her finger, willing her not to
notice. I comb her hair, pulling flecks of dried paint out of it. I wipe my wet
thumb across her cheek and take more. By the time I’m at her mouth, she’s
breathing so shallowly I worry she’s not getting oxygen.
“Forever, Amelia. I thought you knew that.”
“But how can you say that? I can’t be what you need! I can’t be what any
of you need! We made that promise when we were young, before life ruined
me. I don’t expect you to keep that promise. How could you?”
I nod to Alex, showing him that I was right, that she is just scared. I
motion him forward, giving him his opening. Because I can’t stand to be
this close to her and not hold her, I lift her from her chair and bring her to
the couch, selfishly turning her so she’s straddling me. She might not be
able to see me as well as she should, but I can still look into her
mesmerizing brown eyes that seem to go on forever, trace the line of her
jaw and watch her shudder as I push the long, tangled brown hair over her
shoulder.
Alex fortifies himself with a big inhale, readying himself to lay it all on
the line. He’s never had to grovel before, because Amelia is the only one
he’s ever care
d enough about to fix things with.
“I’m sorry, Amelia. I shouldn’t have pushed.” Well, it was a start.
“You’re right, you shouldn’t have. I have some limits, some hard ones,
that didn’t exist when we were younger. You guys don’t know…there’s just
too much. You have to trust that I know what those limits are.
“Re-opening the case for the fire, I can’t. I can’t go into the police
station, where I had to bear witness to my father’s atrocities and re-live
them. Because I know that’s what I’ll see when we get there. I can’t talk to
a bunch of strangers who will sit and pity me for the damage I sustained.
“Alex, Cameron, wherever Constantine is…”
Constantine comes in from the backyard as if he heard his summons, dirt
on his hands like he was gardening. Huh. That’s kind of weird as shit. He
raises and eyebrow at me and I nod, letting him know she’s wearing it. He
smirks, knowing she doesn’t know yet.
“Be right there, Amelia.”
He washes his hands in the kitchen and comes closer, sitting on the other
side of Amelia and I, touching her arm like I had to touch her. It’s an
obsession. It feels too good to touch her, any part of her, to not be doing it
after being denied so long. He kisses her hand, so near the ring that I know
he’s showing how much he loves seeing it there, but his presence amusingly
distracts her, making her breath hitch and overlook the fact that she’s got a
big rock on her hand.
Showing a side to him we haven’t seen in years, he lifts a wet cloth I
didn’t see him bring over and meticulously cleans all the paint off her
fingers, kissing each one before sitting on the couch and acting like he
didn’t just do some epically sweet shit without even thinking about it. This,
the guy that buries himself in motorcycle repairs and usually grunts more
than he speaks.
“What are we talking about?”
“I know you guys think you still want me-”
Is it rude we all laugh at this? Think? Think?! Constantine had filled us in
on their conversation the other day, told us the reasons he had found out she
never called us, but if she needed more time to convince herself she could
be happy, she could repeat the words until the cows came home, or until we
got her to believe us.
“It’s really not funny. I can’t just give myself to you guys, because I