Possessive

by W Winters

  Even as I ask him I’m almost painfully aware of how I couldn’t care less. I’m eager for information and that’s all I want. I rest my chin in my hand and lean forward, pretending to give him my full attention even though my mind’s on all the questions on the tip of my tongue.

  How often does Daniel come here?

  Do you think he’ll be here tonight?

  Do you know where I can find him if he doesn’t come?

  Instead I smile and laugh politely when I’m supposed to; all the while Jake chitchats about the bar and points to the pictures on the wall. Occasionally he answers his phone and texts or gets someone a beer.

  Although it’s crowded and I’m having a real conversation for the first time since three nights ago, I’ve never felt more alone.

  “So we go around from place to place, collecting all of them we can find,” Jake wraps up something he said that I was only half listening to and then takes a seat on his side of the bar.

  “What’s really bothering you?” he asks and it catches me off guard. My simper slips, and my heart skips a beat.

  “What do you mean?” I ask him as if I haven’t got a clue and then quickly follow up with, “I’m just tired.” It sounds phony to my own ears, so I’m sure I sound like a bad liar to him too.

  “You seemed a little shaken the other night,” Jake says softly, leaning forward. Someone calls out his name and he barely acknowledges them, holding up his hand to tell them to wait. “Maybe you came in looking for something?” he asks me with his eyes narrowed.

  The playfulness is gone, as is the sound of all conversation in the busy bar. In its place is the rapid thumping of my heart.

  “Or someone?” he says as somebody else calls out his name again, breaking me from the moment. I turn to the man with the bushy eyebrows as Jake tells him, “One minute!” in not the most patient of tones.

  “So what is it?” he says and waits for me.

  “I didn’t come in here looking for anything or anyone.” I tell him the truth. My voice is small, pleading even.

  “But you found something,” he prompts.

  I only nod my head and he pushes off of the bar, standing up and making his way back to the draft beers to satisfy the old man’s order.

  “If you don’t want to see him again, you should leave now,” Jake speaks without looking at me and then smiles and jokes with the man at the end of the bar.

  “Why’s that?” I call after him, my voice raised so he can hear me and the bar top digging into my stomach as I lean over it to get a good view of him.

  Just as Jake opens his mouth to answer me, the door to the bar opens and I can feel the atmosphere change.

  No one else stops talking. No one else turns to look over their shoulder.

  But I do. I’m drawn to him and always have been. It’s like my body knows his. Like my soul was waiting for his.

  Daniel’s always had an intensity about him. There’s a dominance that lingers in the way he carries himself. A threat just barely contained. The rough stubble over his hard jaw begs me to run my hand against it. The black leather of his jacket is stretched over his shoulders.

  Thump … thump … my heart ticks along and then stops.

  Daniel’s dark eyes meet mine instantly. They swirl with an emotion I can’t place as they narrow, and I can’t breathe until he takes a step. We both hang there for what feels like forever. He must know I’ve come here for him.

  I watch as he moves, or rather stalks toward me. Each movement is careful, barely contained. Like it’s taking everything in him just to be near me. I know he wants to appear relaxed, but he’s faking it.

  And with another step toward me, I can finally tear my gaze away.

  I look forward, my back straight and my eyes on the beer in front of me as he walks behind me. I can hear each step and the scratch of the barstool on the floor directly to my left as he pulls it out.

  I remind myself I came here for him. No, not for him. To see him. To clear the air.

  I came here to this small town for me because I finally had my life together.

  And he ruined it. The memory of his cold reception and dismissal hurts more and more with each passing second. I’m not a little girl for him to shove aside anymore and treat like I’m some annoyance.

  The thought strengthens my resolve and I turn sharply to the left just as he takes his seat. He’s so close my breasts nearly brush his bicep and it forces the words to a grinding halt as I pull back.

  I’d forgotten what he smells like, a woody scent with a freshness to it. Like trees on the far edge of a forest by the water. I’d forgotten what it feels like to be this close to him.

  To be too close to what can ruin you is a disconcerting feeling.

  “Addison,” he says and although his voice is deep and masculine, in that smooth cadence my name sounds positively sinful. The irritation in his tone that was constant in my memory is absent.

  “Daniel.” I barely manage to get his name out and I clear my throat, slowly sitting back in my seat to grab the beer in front of me. “I was wondering if I’d find you here,” I admit and then peek up at him.

  A genuine grin grows slowly on his handsome face. I swear his teeth are perfectly white. It’s a crime for a man to look this good.

  “You came here looking for me?” he asks me with a cockiness that reminds me of a boy I once knew and again, for the second time, my confidence is shaken. As I lick my lower lip to respond, I fail to find the words.

  “Do I intimidate you, Addison?” he asks in a teasing voice and I roll my eyes and then lift the beer to my lips. I assume he’ll say something else as I drink, but he doesn’t.

  As I set the glass down, I look him in the eyes. “You know you do and I hate it.” There’s a heat between us that ignites in an instant. As if a drop of truth could set fire to us both. I can barely breathe looking into his dark eyes.

  “Do you now?” he asks again in that same playful tone. “So you came here looking for me because you hate me?”

  “Yes,” I answer him without hesitation, although it’s not quite truthful. That’s not why, but I’m fine with him thinking that.

  His brow raises slightly and he tilts his head as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. Slowly he corrects it, and I can feel his guard slowly climb up. It’s this thing he always did. It’s odd how I remember it so well. For only moments, only glimpses, I swear he let me in. But just like that it was gone, and a distance grew between us, even if we hadn’t moved an inch.

  “Don’t do that,” I tell him as soon as I sense it and his eyes narrow at me. “I don’t hate you. I hate that you were rude to me.”

  “I wasn’t rude.”

  “You were a dick.” My words come out with an edge that can’t be denied and I wish I could swallow them back down.

  “I’m sorry,” he tells me and he looks apprehensive. It’s weird hearing him say those words. I can’t think of him ever speaking them to anyone before. “You came looking for an apology?”

  “No, not really,” I tell him and shrug, wanting to take a step back from the tense air, but my ass is firmly planted on this stool. He turns to his left and I look back at the glass while I continue, just wanting to get it out of me before he’s gone again.

  “I just wanted to talk.” The words finally come out, although they’re not quite right. I want to spill every word that’s inside of me. From the last night I saw him all those years ago, to everything that’s happened up until this moment. There aren’t a lot of people who can relate to what we’ve gone through.

  He still hasn’t said a word. His gaze is focused on me as if he’s trying to read me, but can’t make out what’s written. If only he’d ask, I’d tell him. I don’t have time for games or secrets, and our history makes up too much of who I am to disrespect it with falsehoods.

  “Are you going to run off again?” I ask as he only stares back at me.

  “Do you want me to?” he asks me in return.

  “No,” I ans
wer instantly and a little too loud. As if what he’d said was a threat. I’m quieter as I add, “I don’t want you to go.” The desperation in my voice is markedly apparent.

  “Well what do you want then?” he asks me and I know the answer. I want him. I take in a breath slowly, knowing the truth but also knowing I’d never confess it.

  “I haven’t been able to sleep since the other night,” I confess and my gaze flickers from the glass to his eyes. My nail taps on the glass again and again and the small tinkling persuades me to continue. “I had a rough time for a while, but I was doing really well until I saw you.” I don’t glance up to see how he reacts; I’m merely grateful the words are finally coming to me. “When you didn’t even bother to look at me, much less talk to me …” I swallow thickly and then throw back more of the beer.

  “It was a shock to see you.” Daniel says the words as if he’s testing them on his tongue. Like they aren’t the truth, although I’m sure they are. I look into his eyes as he says, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “What did you mean then?” I ask him without wasting a second.

  He hesitates again, careful to say just what he wants. “I didn’t know what to say, so I left.”

  “That seems reasonable.” Or at least that seems like the version of Daniel I remember. I take another sip of beer before I say, “It hurt though.”

  “I already said I was sorry.” His words are short, harsh even, but they don’t faze me.

  “I wasn’t looking for an apology. I only wanted you to know how you make me feel.”

  He responds quickly this time, still looking over my expression as if he’s not sure what to make of it. “And how do I make you feel now?”

  I swear his breathing comes in heavier, and it makes mine do the same. “Like I have someone to talk to.”

  That gets a huff of a laugh from him. A disbelieving one. “I’m sure you have better options for that.”

  I shake my head and answer before taking another sip, “You’d be wrong then.”

  It’s never felt pathetic before. The fact is I don’t talk to many people and the one friend I have is thousands of miles away. But admitting that to him and seeing the trace of the grin fall on his lips makes it feel slightly pitiful.

  I muster a small smile although it’s weak, and time grows between us. The seconds tick by and I know I’m losing him, but I can’t voice any of the things I’m feeling.

  “It’s been a while,” he says and I nod my head as I answer, “Since the funeral.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud and it’s the first mention of Tyler between us. The air turns tense but not in a way that’s uncomfortable. At least not for me. I even have the courage to look back at him. I can see hints of Tyler in Daniel. But Tyler was so young and he looked it. Still, there are small things.

  “You remind me of him, you know?” All while I speak, Daniel stares at my lips. He doesn’t hide the fact in the least. I think he wants me to know. I swallow and his gaze moves to my throat, then he leans in just slightly before correcting himself. The hot air is tense and as he finally looks me in the eyes again, the noise of the bar disappears from the pure intensity of his stare.

  “You do the same for me, I think.”

  “You think?” I ask him to clarify.

  “You bring back certain things,” he says icily, so cold it sends a chill down my spine.

  My shoulders are tight as I straighten myself in the seat, again looking into the glass of beer that’s nearly gone as if it can save me. Or as if I can drown in it.

  It’s only the sound of him standing up that makes me look back toward him. “Are you leaving?” I ask him like an idiot and then feel like it.

  He only nods and I’m sure he’s going to walk off, but instead he steps closer to me. He shoves a piece of paper in front of me onto the bar and then grips the barstool I’m sitting on with both of his hands.

  He’s so close I can feel his heat as he whispers to me, “I’ll see you soon, Addison.”

  Chapter 8

  Daniel

  * * *

  Five years ago

  * * *

  The wind howls as it whips past us. We’re all dressed in black suits, but the shoes we spent all last night shining are buried beneath the pure white snow. The ice melts and seeps between the seams, letting the freezing cold sink into what was once warm. It’s fitting as we stare at the upturned dirt in front of us.

  We’re the last ones here. We stopped on our way back from the dinner since the sun has yet to set, and there’s still a bit of light left.

  The sky beyond us is blurred and the air brutally cold, the kind that makes my lungs hurt each time I try to breathe.

  One of my brothers cries. It’s a whimper at first but I don’t move to see who’s the weakest of us. My muscles coil at the thought, hating how I’ve judged. Hating how I view strength. I’m pathetic. I’m the weak one.

  Jase, the farthest from me, sniffles as his shoulders crumple and then he covers his face.

  He was the closest to Tyler but now he’s the baby, taking Tyler’s place. The air turns cruel, biting at the back of my neck with a harsh chill as his cries come to a halt. My throat’s tight as I try to swallow. It makes me bitter to be standing here, knowing I need to leave and can’t stay here. That I’m the one who gets to continue breathing. That fate chose to take one of the good ones, and leave the ruthless and depraved behind.

  Five brothers are now only four.

  Four of us stand over Tyler’s body. Six feet in the ground.

  All of us will mourn him. The world is at a loss for not knowing him. I finally get the expression about how it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

  Tyler was good through and through. He would have lived his days making the world a better place. He’d try to start a conversation with anyone; just to get to know them, just to make them laugh if he could.

  All four of us lined up and saying our final goodbyes will never be the same after losing our youngest brother.

  But only one of us knows the truth.

  Only one of us is guilty.

  * * *

  The worst part is when I leave. I’m the last of us to finally part from Tyler’s grave, but when I leave, my gaze stays rooted to where her car was. Where Addison had parked. My memories aren’t of my father crying helplessly against the brick wall of the church, refusing to go in when he couldn’t hide his pain. The images that flash before my eyes as my shoes crunch against the icy snow aren’t of all his friends and teachers and family who have come from states away to tell us how sorry they are and how much Tyler will be missed.

  All I can think about is Addison. How she stood so quietly on the fringes of the crowd, her fingers intertwined, her eyes glossy. How even as the wind ripped her scarf from her shoulders, carrying it into the distance and leaving her shoulders bare, she didn’t move. She didn’t even shudder. She was already numb.

  The picture of her standing there motionless, staring at the casket is what I think about as I leave my brother.

  * * *

  I didn’t know then how dangerous that was. Or maybe I did and I didn’t want to believe it. But Addison would haunt me long after that night, as do so many other things.

  She’s only a girl. One small, weak girl.

  Her red cheeks and nose and windblown hair made her look that much more tempting. Everything about her is ruined. At least she appeared to be that night. But I knew she had more left in her. More life and spirit. More emotion to give.

  I may be cruel and unforgiving, but I’m right. I’m always right.

  Chapter 9

  Addison

  * * *

  The night Tyler died, I saw it all happen.

  I was there and I heard the tires squeal.

  At the memory, I can practically feel the cold raindrops from that night pelting my skin. I turn on the faucet to the hottest it can go and wait until steam fills the room. I step into the shower
, ignoring how the sounds of water falling are so similar to the rain that night as I stood outside the corner store. He called my name. My eyes close and my throat feels tight as I hear Tyler’s voice.

  The last thing he said was my name as he stepped into the street.

  It takes a lot to leave someone because you fell in love with somebody else. Somebody who would never love you back.

  It takes even more of your heart to witness the death of someone who truly deserved to live. More than I’ll ever deserve it.

  And to know that they died because they were looking for you …

  God and fate are not kind or just. They take without reason. And the world is at a loss for Tyler being taken from us.

  I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving Tyler. I didn’t know he’d come looking for me. If I could take it back, I would.

  The water hits my face and I pretend like the tears aren’t there. It’s easier to cry in the shower.

  I was fine until I saw Daniel again. It took me years to feel just okay. That’s the part I can’t get over. Maybe this is what a relapse is? One moment and I’ve lost all the strength I’ve gained over the years. All of the acceptance that I can’t change what happened and that it’ll be okay. It’s all gone in an instant.

  I lean my back against the cold tile wall and sink to the floor. The smooth granite feels hard against my back as I sit there, letting the water crash down on me as I remember that night over and over. Just a few moments in particular. The moment Tyler saw me, then the moment he spoke my name and moved toward me.

  The moment I screamed at the sight of him stepping into the road.

  The car was right there. There was no time.

  It didn’t matter how I threw myself forward, racing toward him even as the car struck him.

  I swear I acted as fast as I could. But it wasn’t good enough.