“What? There’s no blame I’d put on you. I love you, Mandy.”
“I love you too,” I put my arms around his neck holding on tightly. For once I need to feel something other than the despair. Slipping my arms back slightly, I angle my mouth to his and I forget everything we should be talking about. Instead, I want to feel.
My tongue tangles with his, his lips affix themselves to mine, fighting for real estate as he reaches down and lifts me to the hood of our car, here in our field, in the moonlight.
If it wasn’t for the circumstances, this would be the perfect night.
Chapter Three
Mandy
Our fingers fight against one another, feeling for flesh neither one of us have touched in so long.
When I try to get his button-down flannel undone, my fingers get tripped up. I growl deep in my throat, ripping the fabric.
Slightly pulling back, he chuckles. “Good thing that wasn’t one I’m attached to.”
I hook my legs around his waist, pulling him to me. “I’d rather have you attached to me.”
I don’t even question the words I just spoke. Deep in my heart I know I’m sending mixed signals to him, but I can’t seem to stop myself. When you’ve loved someone since you were a kid and you’ve been with them through so much in your life, it’s hard not to come back to what’s familiar. All seems right in my world as he reaches down to unbuckle his belt, making quick work of the zipper and button, sliding them down far enough so that he can I can get to his cock.
It’s cold, but not too cold to be doing this. The two of us are acquainted with sex in this field.
I wrench my lips away from him. “Hurry Dalton, I need you.”
Digging my nails into his shoulders, I try to urge him to move faster. Somehow clothes are removed from the lower half of my body and I’m pulling him into me.
“Slow down,” he whispers.
We haven’t done anything since we lost the baby. The only pleasure I’ve had has been from my fingers and a vibrator. I’ve missed him lying next to me at night, the sound of him taking a shower, and just the commanding presence he has.
“I can’t,” I grab at him, my nails dig into his hips, pressing him into my aching core.
“God, you’re wet.”
“I know,” I lean in, nipping against the skin of his neck. “I’ve been thinking about you for at least a week.”
“Why didn’t you call me or text me?”
I’m trying to move, but he won’t let me. Reaching over to me, he tips my chin down so that our eyes are forced to meet one another.
“It’s too painful,” I finally puff out. “It’s just a reminder of something I had and now it’s gone.”
Not wanting to hear broken and false promises, I hook my heels into his ass, and we’re both down for. I’ve wanted him too long, and being in his arms feels more like home than has in months.
Together we push and pull, taking each other’s bodies in ways we haven’t in a long time. There’s a savagery to way I pulls against him and he pushes against me.
The only thing that can be heard between us is the slap of our bodies and the grunts and groans as we work so hard to meet the physical release we both know we can get. Fuck the emotional one at this point.
We need something and we’re taking it.
All too soon I tighten against his cock, pulling it deeper into my core and that’s all it takes for him to let go.
In the aftermath, I sleepily rest my forehead against his.
“Tomorrow I’ll move my stuff back to the house,” he kisses me on the forehead.
Immediately I’m panicking, thinking about him moving his stuff back into the house, knowing all of this isn’t fixed. I’m not sure it ever will be. Again, he’s taking more than I’m offering to give.
He always does this to me.
“No,” I whisper. “Dalton, things still aren’t fixed.”
He pulls back from me, jerking his shirt tails back and tucking himself into his jeans. He’s pissed, his face is a dark cloud of irritation.
“Well, I kinda feel like we fixed some things.”
He always wants to run before we walk, and I don’t know how to make him understand that just because he wants things to be better, just because we were able to come together like this doesn’t mean things are perfect. It doesn’t even meant things are okay.
“We fucked, Dalton. We both had needs, they were met. Physical needs, met by physical pleasure.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Why can’t you see?” Tears stream down my face now. Why can’t he see what I need? “Why can’t you see what I need from you?”
He grabs me by the arms, getting into my face.
“Why can’t you fucking tell me what you need from me? I keep making gestures, I keep trying and you continue to tell me that whatever I’ve done isn’t good enough. What do you expect me to do, Mandy? Please, just tell me.”
“I don’t know!”
My scream can probably be heard for miles as it reverberates off the hills of the surrounding property. I continue screaming those words over and over again. Hoping someone will take me out of the pain I’m in. Hoping against everything that someone will just fucking fix me. When he tries to grab me for a second time, I shrug him off, turning so that I’ve facing him.
My shirt is hanging halfway off, tears are making tracks down my face and I’m fucking miserable.
“There’s something,” I point to my head. “Going on up here, and if you think I’m not scared to death after what happened with Travis, then you don’t know me, Dalton.”
“I do know you, babe,” he takes what I’m sure he believes is a safe tone with me. “Which is why I’m telling you, I need to be with you and Walker.”
“No,” I shake my head. I’m done letting people decide my life for me. I can do this. For one time in my life, I can do something on my own. I don’t need someone to hold my hand and baby me. “I need to figure this out for myself.”
“No,” he argues. “You need me, you need your family.”
My smile is sad, much like me. “There’s no way you can need me. You hate me for losing our baby, and to be honest, I hate me too.”
Before he can say anything else, I’m in my car, driving home, wiping the tears from my eyes. His smell surrounds me, but it doesn’t help, not like it used to. It just makes me feel more hopeless.
Alone.
Scared.
Completely unsure of what to do and how to proceed.
Chapter Four
Mandy
“Mom, I’m headed to school. Uncle Drew is giving me a ride.”
I hear his voice and I fight against the overwhelming tiredness surrounding me. It’s a massive undertaking to open my eyes and acknowledge my son has said something to me.
“Love you Walker,” I manage to call out.
He answers with something I’m assuming is love you too. At least I hope that’s what it is. Reaching over, I grab my phone, texting Charity to let her know I won’t be in.
I don’t even know how I still have a job. It must be because she loves me, or we’re family. If I were her, I’d have fired me months ago. Pulling myself out of bed, I shuffle to the kitchen. The first thing I see are all the bills I haven’t paid, the mortgage is late, so is my car. Credit cards? Can’t tell you the last time I paid them.
Not even the phone calls are worrying me anymore.
I had hoped I’d feel something.
Anything.
But when they started calling me, asking for payment, I just laughed. Money and bills aren’t important when you can’t seem to keep your life from spiraling out of control around you. Never mind that losing my home and my livelihood had been one of my biggest fears when I was a kid.
Turning to the fridge, I look at the calendar. Walker likes to know what day it is and with a deep stab to my chest, I realize our baby would have been six months old today.
My hands are shaking as I grab my pho
ne, meaning to call Dalton. But what would I say?
Hey, the baby I wasn’t able to carry to term would have been six months old today. Wanna go out for lunch?
Another stupid idea in a long line of stupid ideas. Sometimes I wonder why I couldn’t have been the one who got killed instead of Travis. In fact, I think that more often than I should these days. It’s a thought I’m obsessed with, sometimes I dream about it.
What it would be like to not have to live in this pain anymore, to not have to make excuses as to why I can’t show up at some get together, why I can’t meet the girls for dinner, why I can’t fucking invite my husband back to his own home. They wouldn’t even be issues because I wouldn’t be here anymore.
Picking up my phone, I call Meredith.
She was nice to me when I was a kid, and knew about Dalton and I from the beginning. She’s always been one of the women I go to when I need someone to talk to. Her voicemail picks up.
Hey Mer, I just wanted to call and say I love you. Thank you for always being such a calm voice in a world full of loud people who say a lot, but never make any sense. I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. How much I appreciate that you never treated me like a little kid, and always took what I said seriously. Take care of Walker? Love you.
When I started my message, I wasn’t sure what this day meant to me, but as I talked, one thing has become abundantly clear. Maybe I’m just not for this world anymore. Maybe it was never truly for me, and I’m one of those people, destined to constantly be on the outskirts of family and friends, wanting desperately to be a part of it, but scared to death to let people in.
It’s something I’ve struggled with since I was a kid, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fully get over it.
So it’s time to stop worrying.
About everything.
Going around the kitchen I grab what I’m going to need, everything I think of that might help me in completing what I know I must do.
Once I have it all in a basket, I carry it upstairs to the nursery.
The door has been closed since we lost him.
But today, I bravely push forward, knowing this is the last time I’m going to see this. My suffering will be over, and I won’t have to live in this purgatory anymore.
It’s almost as if I’m stepping back in time.
It seems like years since we decorated this room, even though it’s only been months.
How could my life have changed so much in a matter of months?
The walls are a muted yellow, because that’s what had called to me when we’d gone pain shopping. Muted yellow and gray. Everything was ready for him. The crib, the changing table made my Tyler for Walker. We’d decided to pass it down, and were so excited for our second child to use it.
Desperately, I try to keep my eyes from going to the corner, but it’s like they’re sucked there by an invisible force. There we have a picture of the sonogram in a frame that reads love at first sight.
And it was - the same as it’d been with Walker.
As soon as I saw that picture, I knew I would do anything to protect my child. Except I didn’t realize my body would betray me. It would reject the protection I wanted to give.
I hurt my child.
My body killed it, and I’m never going to be able to live with myself.
Sitting down on the floor, I take everything out of the basket. In no hurry, I count out the pills I’m going to use, separating them by dosage amounts.
There’s even some here for back up in case the first dose doesn’t work. For the first time in months my hand is steady as I pour a glass of Bourbon, taking a drink to wet my mouth.
I wear my wedding and engagement ring around my neck because I don’t want them to have to cut them off. I’d rather Dalton be able to give it to Walker. At least it would be something for him to remember me by. I haven’t given him much the last few months.
Tears start to fall from my eyes. I was a good mom to him, the best I could be until my head started being filled with all this shit and I couldn’t make it stop.
I wish I was still the mother he deserves.
Still the wife that Dalton wants.
The person I remember being.
But we don’t always get what we want, and more than anything I want out of this pain and this misery.
This is the only way.
Chapter Five
Mandy
My phone alerts me that someone is here just as I’m about to take the next shot of bourbon. The doorbell we have with the video pops up on my phone and I see my dad.
The man who took me and Drew in as kids. He was one hundred percent the dad he didn’t have to be to us, and I hope him and mom help Walker get through this.
He rings the bell, I can hear it, but I can’t make myself get up and go answer. He’ll stop me and I’m not sure I can ever get back to where I am right now.
He rings it again, and again I ignore it, looking at the pills and alcohol I have laid out before me.
Now is the time to do this. What if he gets here before I finish and he stops me? Then I will have failed at something else.
“Mandy!”
His voice is full of terror. There’s only been a few times I’ve heard him sound this way. The pounding of his motorcycle boots thunder through our house, and I hold off just a second.
“Mandy!”
His running comes to a stop, and I can hear him outside the door to the nursery. He’s approaching it like he would a robber in the night. He’s not been in this room since the day we showed it to him.
Slowly he opens the door, and with a deep inhale, I know he sees me. Someone finally sees me. “Mandy,” his voice is soft this time. “Mandy, look at me sweetheart.”
My body turns, my knees up to my chest. Tears are streaming down my face and I sob out all the pain I’m feeling to him. “He would have been six months old today, and nobody remembers it but me.”
He rushes in, taking me in his arms.
“Things are going to be okay,” he soothes, rocking me back and forth like he used to when I was a kid.
“It’s never going to be okay again,” I hiccup, holding onto him tightly. I fist his shirt in my hands, turning in toward him, letting his body shelter me from all the bad things.
I can tell when he sees what I have in front of me by the way his body tightens.
“What are you doing?” I’ve never heard such astonishment, such hurt in his voice. He puts his hand under my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“I don’t know what to do anymore,” I sniffle. “Things were fucked when everything happened with Justice, and they’ve just not gotten better.”
“What’s with this?” He gestures to the alcohol and pills in front of me.
“I’m in so much pain,” I scream loudly, wailing deep in my throat, feeling it reverberate against the walls of the room. “And I can’t help but think everyone would be better off without me. My husband, my son, you, mom, Drew, all of you are constantly worried about me, and I just can’t take it anymore.
“No,” he hugs me close. “That’s so far from the truth, sweetheart.”
For hours it feels like, he holds me while I cry, purging all the bad feelings from my body. I cry like I’ve never cried before. Little did I know I only needed my dad to help me see the light.
When I’m finally done, I pull back, my eyes stinging, my throat and face raw. “Dad, I need help.”
“I know you do, and we’ll get you the help you need.”
He’s never broken a promise to me, and I know I can trust him with any part of my life.
“Doc Jones said this is the best one.”
It hasn’t even been hours since dad found me in the floor of the baby’s nursery. He and mom have already gotten me taken care of. I’m walking up to this place with them flanking me.
“She knows me and she knows what people like me need,” I whisper.
“You’re going to be fine,” mom pushes my hair back.
>
“Dalton and Walker are going to hate me,” I cry softly.
“They’re going to understand,” she argues. “They know something is wrong. We’ve all known it for a while, none of us just wanted to admit it. We love you, Mandy and we know that you don’t want to be like this.”
I don’t, I want to look forward to the next morning, to sit at the kitchen table with my husband, drinking our morning coffee again, to watch Walker grow up into a man.
I want it all.
But first, I have to fix me.
This is going to be the hard part, telling everyone what I did.
As we enter the facility, I drop my head slightly, ashamed that I’m even here. When we get to the front desk, mom and dad sign the paperwork, but then the receptionist looks at me.
“Mandy, why are you here?”
There are so many things I could say, but I stick with the obvious, and the most important.
“I tried to kill myself, and I realized I want to live.”
She smiles, her eyes warm and inviting. “Good Mandy, that’s real good. We’ll take care of you here.”
And for the first time in months, I feel like my world isn’t ending, and there’s hope at the end of the storm.
Hollow releases 09/25/20
About the Author
Laramie Briscoe is the USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author of over 30 books.
Since self-publishing her first book in May of 2013, Laramie has appeared on the Top 100 Bestselling E-books Lists on Amazon Kindle, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo. Her books have been known to make readers laugh and cry. They are guaranteed to be emotional, steamy reads.
When she's not writing alpha males who seriously love their women, she loves spending time with friends, reading, and marathoning shows on Netflix. Married to her high school sweetheart, Laramie lives in Bowling Green, KY with her husband (the Travel Coordinator) and a sometimes crazy cat named Beau.
Mandy (Heaven Hill Shorts #10) Page 2
