Third Strike

by BJ Harvey

  Tears sting my eyes, and again, I let them fall. In the past few weeks, I’ve realized just how cathartic it is letting all my bottled emotions out. Before my recent breakdown, the last time I let myself cry was on my mother’s deathbed, holding her hand as I watched her slowly fade away, her breaths coming slower and slower

  Once I conquered that mountain that was no longer holding back my emotions, the weight started to ease. At my therapy session the following week, Derek and I agreed this was a big step forward, but there were still more to go.

  The next step is sitting down with Millen and Kenzie and talking through what happened between the three of us. I’d never realized it, but I still held some latent animosity toward them because of how things played out with Lana, the pain she inflicted on me caused—in part—by Kenzie and Millen’s relationship.

  A few weeks later, in a moment of well-overdue clarity, I load up my laptop and open a new email having remembered Kenzie saying Ash was checking her emails. My only hope is that she still checks this account.

  Dear Ash,

  I sit there staring at the computer, the cursor blinking aimlessly on the screen. How do you start an email to the woman you love who you desperately want back? To a woman you’ve hurt when you’re unsure she’ll ever forgive you, let alone open an email with your name on it? Isn’t it funny how the one person I could always talk to about anything and everything is the one person it’s the hardest to write an email to now?

  Dear Ash,

  Firstly, I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry for not telling you about my arrangement with Lana. It was complicated and convoluted, and although her intentions were malicious and wrong, mine were only ever in the best interest of Travis.

  That night in France, I felt free. I felt like I’d been lost for five years and you’d finally found me again.

  There’s so much to say, so much to explain, and it’s something that has to be done face-to-face.

  I love you. I have always loved you and will continue to love you until I can’t love you anymore.

  My one hope is that you somehow read this email and reply to me. Or don’t. Just read and let me talk—or write. I’m seeing a therapist. I like him. He’s a nice guy. He doesn’t judge me for anything I’ve done or anything I’m struggling with—which is a lot—and he listens. He’s completely impartial which I think is what I needed.

  There is so much to tell you, and I guess either your dad or Millen will have explained already but Lana is gone, our marriage has been annulled, and Travis is not my son. Lana thought a baby would make Millen love her. When she knew she was losing him, she played me and dragged me in to be a pawn in her little game. When Kenzie and I stopped the wedding, I became her meal ticket and another way to get to Millen.

  She was a mistake I made, and I still don’t understand exactly why, but she’s also the result of all the things I’ve been avoiding and burying deep for a long time.

  I’ve also given up drinking. I drank for two months straight to get over losing Travis. I’d probably still be drinking now over the thought of losing you, but I’ve come to realize that numbing the pain helps no one. It’s only through feeling it, living it, and learning to overcome it, that I’ve been able to deal with everything in my past. It’s not something I go to meetings about. It’s more about stopping myself from using alcohol as a coping mechanism. By dealing with everything and talking it through with Derek, the hope is I’ll come up with different, more healthy ways of handling myself.

  The one thing I’ve realized—the thing I’ve probably known all along—is just how much time I’ve wasted not being with you. Years of back and forth, tearing myself up inside, thinking I in no way deserved you but never being able to let you go.

  I never want to. I want to build a life with you, a future, a family. As long as we’re together, I know I can achieve anything… be anything, because I won’t allow myself to be anything less anymore. I’m working on myself, so I can be the best man I can possibly be. For you and for me.

  Wherever in the world you are, I hope you are well. I hope you are happy, and I hope you’re still reading this email so you can know I love you and how much I want you to come home to me.

  You’re always on my mind, and you always will be.

  Forever yours,

  Drew

  For the next few months, I email her once a week on Sunday. I spill my heart out in every message. I recall moments we spent together, memories I cherish, milestones we shared, writing all of it down in the hope she’ll one day read it. It’s cathartic, and somehow it gives me a purpose, something to focus on. As every Sunday passes, and I send another email, I know I’m taking another step forward.

  Every week moving closer to Ash coming home, where I’ll be ready and waiting for her, the best man I can possibly be, for her and for me.

  Drew

  Three months later

  Millen: I’ll be at your place in an hour and a half.

  I frown down at my phone.

  Drew: Everything okay?

  Millen: Yeah, just got something for you.

  Drew: There a reason it couldn’t wait till dinner tomorrow?

  Millen: Yeah. It’s important you get it tonight.

  Drew: Is there another reason you’re being cryptic as fuck?

  Millen: Yep and nope, you’re not getting any more than that. Just trust me, Drew. I’ve never given you a reason not to, and I’m not about to start now. See you soon.

  I shrug, not even bothering to try and get more information out of him.

  Kenzie, though? She’s terrible at keeping secrets.

  Drew: What is your husband up to?

  Kenzie: What are you talking about?

  Drew: Do you know where your husband is?

  Kenzie: Coming back from San Francisco. Why?

  Drew: ’Cause he just texted and said he’d be here soon to drop something off.

  Kenzie: Oh. Weird. I don’t know anything about it.

  That stops me in my tracks because Kenzie always knows what Millen is up to. Just like Millen always knows where Kenz is, what’s she’s doing, and what she has eaten that day. The last part is a new development that’s been driving Kenz crazy since she found out she was pregnant a few months ago. It seems a deep Italian tan and a lifetime of memories weren’t the only things Millen and Kenzie brought back from their honeymoon.

  Drew: You’re lying.

  She doesn’t reply. For five whole minutes.

  Drew: Kenzie… don’t make me call you.

  Again, there’s nothing but radio silence. I bring up her number and call her, the phone not even ringing before clicking over to voicemail.

  Now I know something is going on.

  I call Millen, and his phone goes straight through to voicemail too. Those two should know better than to fuck with me. I may have got myself back on track, but I definitely don’t deal well with surprises these days. Not anymore. Not ever again. I’m all about complete honesty, no secrets, and absolute transparency with everyone in my life. I have coping mechanisms in place if I ever feel life getting me down again. Ever since my breakdown, when I finally reached out and asked for help, I’ve never looked back.

  I still write to Ash on a weekly basis. Every email goes through; they never bounce back. Every week, it’s like a journal entry from myself to my soul mate. I talk about my achievements, my failures, my regrets, how she’s crossed my mind every day and what made me think of her. I reminisce over the good times, tell her how sorry I am for the bad times, and use our years of shared memories to hopefully remind her of how intertwined our lives are. If the best she ever gives me is an email back—a small admission that she hasn’t cut me completely out of her life—I’ll be happy. Anything more than that and I’ll be ecstatic.

  To keep myself busy I clean my house, watching the clock like a death row inmate waiting on his last Hail Mary. Until I run out of house to clean and give up the fight, sitting on my front porch, a bottle of water in hand and my eyes pinned
on the end of my driveway as I wait for Millen to arrive.

  I’m lost in thought when the rev of an engine grabs my attention, headlights lighting up my driveway as the hood of Millen’s black Audi appears, a wedding present from Mr. Ross. I watch him through the windscreen, his gaze meeting mine but his expression giving absolutely nothing away.

  After exiting the car, he rounds the hood and walks up the path and onto the porch, leaning against the railing, his expression still unreadable.

  “Your engine is still running.”

  “I know,” he says with a small smirk.

  I narrow my eyes at him, lifting my brows as if to say ‘what the fuck?’ “Dude, you’re acting weird.”

  “I’m wondering if you’re ready for this. I mean, I’ve watched you rebuild yourself and work hard to get back to the man I always knew you were. But… I’m not sure if you’re quite there yet.” He studies me, scratching his head.

  “Are you drunk? Or high? You’re making absolutely no sense.”

  “So, I’ve got a few things to say to you, and then I’m going to go.”

  “Okay…”

  “I’ve known you over half my life.”

  “Mmm hmm…”

  “And you’re like a brother to me.”

  “Dude, I’m not gonna marry you. I like you and all, but you’re just not my type.” I grin up at him and chuckle when his lips twitch.

  “Very funny, asshole. I’m trying to be serious here.”

  “Oh, so this is a deep and meaningful?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “Marriage has made you soft.”

  “Marriage has made me happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life,” he replies, his eyes turning intense.

  “Alright. I feel like I’m missing something here.”

  “I’ve watched you these past few months, and I’ve seen just how much work you’ve put into yourself. Nothing Lana put us through was easy but you bore the brunt of it, and to see you come out the other side of it an even better man, when I already thought a lot of you before that, it says a lot.”

  “Mills…” I rumble, my heart thumping. “Is there something wrong? Has something happened?”

  His eyes widen, and he immediately shuts it down. “Oh, God no. I’m just trying to say that I know we’ve had our issues but we’ve also overcome every single one of them, and there isn’t another man on the planet I would want for her.”

  I stop breathing, my chest seizes.

  He steps forward and holds out his hand. I mindlessly place my palm in his, and he gives me a hard, firm handshake before letting go. “You hurt her, I’ll kill you. And I don’t just mean punching you out again; I’ll get creative.” Then he nods and walks back the way he came, stops at the trunk, opens it up and pulls out a black suitcase. I stand, my mouth open as I try to wrap my head around whatever the hell is happening.

  When he opens the rear passenger door I forget how to breathe because the last thing I ever expected was for Ash to step out of her brother’s car.

  Millen leans in and gives her a hug, Ash’s eyes lock on mine as she nods at whatever Millen is saying. He pulls back and grins at her before moving around the car, and opening the driver’s side door. Leaning against the roof, he shoots me a quick smirk, then disappears from view.

  I stare, disbelieving, at Ash as she walks toward me. Reaching out, I brace myself against the porch railing, partly to keep myself upright.

  She’s beautiful, even more gorgeous than my favorite memory of her—which says a lot—but it’s more than that because my eyes are now glued to her hands which are resting on her cute, rounded, at least five-months-along pregnant bump.

  One I hope like fuck I helped cause.

  She stops at the end of the path leading up to the porch, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, her expression soft, wary, guarded… “Hey, Drew.”

  I blink, then blink again, hoping like fuck I’m not seeing things.

  Stepping forward, I hold my hand out, loving the jolt of warmth—of rightness—that rushes through me at the first touch of her smooth skin as I help her up the stairs.

  We stand there staring at each other, our hands still clasped together, neither of us saying a word.

  I don’t know what to say. This entire scenario is so surreal I want to pinch myself. Of all the ways I envisaged seeing Ash again, none of them involved Millen delivering her to me, effectively giving me his blessing to be with his sister.

  I don’t even know where to start.

  “I got your emails,” she says, taking the decision out of my hands. My head jerks back. So not what I thought she was about to say.

  “And I loved them. I hated what you went through, but I’m so proud of how you chose to work through the pain and hurt.”

  I open my mouth to say something but a gentle squeeze of my fingers stops me.

  “The man I’ve known for more than half my life—the man I’ve loved for the same amount of time—is the man who poured everything into those letters.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d read them.”

  “I read every single one, over and over again. I wanted to be here to hold your hand and help you through it, but just like how I had to leave you to find myself, you needed to work through everything that’s happened to you to be the man I’ve always known you to be—the best man you could ever be. The best man for me.” She takes a deep breath and rests her palm on her stomach. “The best dad for our daughter.”

  I let out a huge breath, my shoulders sagging in relief. My eyes drop to her stomach; my heart threatens to burst. Ash. Standing here in front of me. Accepting me, faults and flaws, scars and shortcomings. It’s almost too good to be true. It’s better than I could’ve ever dreamed.

  She is more than everything I could have ever dreamed.

  “The thing is, Drew, all I’ve ever wanted is you. Throughout all of it, the day we met, our first kiss dancing by the pool listening to Lifehouse, the pool house, the penthouse, Boston, your house—all of it. You’re the only man I’ve imagined waking up to every morning and going to sleep with every night. I always wanted everything with you, and nothing you’ve done has changed that. It just delayed it a bit…”

  “I’m scared if I touch you this won’t be real.”

  She shifts her hand, lacing her fingers on top of mine and lifting them up to press my palm against her racing heart. “I’m real.” She slides it down to her rounded belly. “She’s real too.”

  “Fuck,” I whisper roughly. I drop to my knees and gently rest my forehead to her stomach, my shoulders shaking as a sob escapes my mouth.

  She stands there, steady and strong, running her hand through my hair, letting me fall apart. The fact she’s here—the fact that Millen brought her here—is not something I ever thought I’d see.

  I sit back on my calves and look up at her unforgettable face, her smile bright and beautiful, her shimmering eyes shining down at me.

  “Fuck I love you. I want you today, tomorrow, and forever. I want our baby; I want everything with you. I always have. I was just too scared to hope because in my life so far, that’s when fate usually steps in.”

  She steps forward, bending down and cupping my face in her hands. “When it comes to us, Drew Peters, you always had one thing right.”

  “What was that?”

  “Forever and always.”

  Fuck that feels good. It feels more than good; it feels fucking fantastic. Everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve put us through, all those years apart are worth it to hear her say that again.

  She straightens, and I stand, moving in close. Her fingers grip my waist; mine cup her jaw and tip her chin.

  “Marry me.” Two words. Two words I’d thought would be scary but are an automatic response. Two words that mean so much more now. “I’ll be your last, and you’ll be mine.” I look down at her stomach and smile, then meet Ash’s eyes once more. “And together, we’ll be hers.”

  “Yes,” she cries. “Yes… ye
s… yes…” She punctuates every yes with a kiss on the lips, each one firmer, more definitive, the last one held in place as we stare into each other’s eyes. Then she melts into me, and I kiss her like I’ve never kissed her before. It’s a claiming kiss, full of passion and relief and satisfaction, a sense of achievement that I’ve finally got the one thing in this world I’ve ever wanted more than anything else and for the first time since I met her, I feel like I deserve her. I’ve got my Ash.

  It’s not until a while later when we’re lying side by side, facing each other on my couch, that she remembers something.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was pregnant. But you’re not the only one who kept a journal. I’ve kept a record of everything since I peed on five different white sticks and saw five identical positive tests. I’ve got every scan picture too. I recorded the heartbeat for you to hear, and every day I read your emails, I wrote a reply I knew you’d read one day once I came home.”

  My eyes burn, my throat tightening. Knowing Ash had me with her through the first half of her pregnancy means everything to me.

  “Thank you.” The words are thick with emotion, rough and barely audible, but her gentle eyes tell me she understands just how much it means to me.

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “Shit, Ash. You’re truly wanting to break me today, aren’t ya?”

  “This is good—I promise. Millen told me to tell you something if all of this went well.”

  I grin at her. “Considering where we are and the fact I’m touching you, I’d say it went alright.” She giggles, pulling herself even closer.

  “He said he’s glad he doesn’t have to kill you. He votes Vegas for your bachelor party… well, he did until I told him about the last time I was in Vegas.”

  I freeze, my eyes bugging out, and a myriad of ways Millen might get “creative” flash through my mind. He knows I took her virginity.

  “And he says he’s got two passes to interrupt your wedding, so he votes we do it at a courthouse.”