by A. R. Breck
“Talkin’ to a rock?” Comes a voice behind me, and shivers run down my spine as I burst to a stand, turning around with wide eyes.
“Aeron?” I whisper.
Aeron stands in front of me, in dark jeans a hoodie, hood pulled up over his head. His eyes are barely visible, but I see them. They stare at me. Rake me in as if he hasn’t seen me in years. It feels like that, anyway.
It feels like a century since I’ve seen him.
I breathe him in. Look at his slim build, which is more filled out from the last time I saw him. His hair barely peaks out from beneath his hoodie, but it still has that messy wave to it that I love.
His eyes are still that deep color of the sky mixed with the ocean.
I breathe him in again.
Something in me creaks. Like it’s coming awake after years of not being used. The sky seems brighter.
The air feels cleaner.
But there’s a part of me that feels dread. And I can’t ignore that.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, emotionless. That’s a stupid question, and kind of rude of me. Asking why he’s standing at his own brother’s cemetery plot like he doesn’t belong here. I stay near his stone, afraid that if we get close enough our electricity will come to life.
I can’t do this.
“Mercy…” He breathes. Like this is his first breath since the last time I saw him.
I back up, even though he hasn’t stepped closer to me. Nearly tripping over a stone, I repeat, “What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.” He pushes his hood back, and my heart fills. I drink him in. He’s so beautiful, he always has been. But right now, there’s … something about him now that makes my heart leap.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Around me, I mean. Not here. He can come visit his brother as much as he wants, it’s just a bad idea for him to do it around me.
I have to use all my strength to tear my eyes off his face. I look down at my phone, pretending to do something when I’m really doing nothing.
“Mercy.” He says softly.
Immediately, I lift my eyes to his. I’m so weak when it comes to him.
So damn weak.
“I had to come see you.” He says.
“How long have you been out?” I breathe.
“Four months.”
I huff out a laugh. “Nice. What have you been doing in that time? Getting back into old habits?” He seriously pulls the ‘I need to see you’ card, but waits months to come and see me?
What a joke.
He scowls at me. “No. I’ve been in a halfway house, actually.”
My eyes widen, and I suddenly feel like a bitch. “Wow. Okay…” I don’t know what to say.
I suddenly feel uncomfortable. “Well, I need to get to class…” I try to walk past him, but he stops me with his hand on my arm.
“Wait. Mercy.” I jump back.
Like, literally, jump.
“Don’t touch me!” I shout.
He shoots his arm back, his eyes going wide.
I felt it.
It’s still there
I could literally fall to my knees and weep. What I’ve been longing for this past year, to feel alive again…
It’s always been there.
What’s wrong with me?
Why is this man—this man that is so wrong for me—the only thing that makes me feel right?
Why is it Aeron that makes my world tilt? He literally makes my blood turn to fire with just a touch.
My heart starts racing. I feel like I’m tumbling off a cliff just from looking at him for a couple minutes. This uncertainty and anxiety come full force.
“I have to go.” This time, I brush past him, and I nearly cripple from the sensations of his touch.
“Mercy, wait!”
“No! Please, just leave me alone.” I sprint to my car, getting in and cranking it on. With blurry eyes, I pull out of the cemetery. From the corner of my eye, I watch Aeron sprint after me, raising his hands and calling my name. I ignore him, speeding onto the main street at a much faster speed than necessary.
Aeron hops in his car and speeds after me. I turn a corner, hopping on the highway. Then he disappears from my sight.
I cry and my hands shake as I navigate through traffic. Seeing Aeron brought back so many emotions. I feel like the top just flew off the shaken-up bottle, and my emotions explode out of me.
Just like that. I remember how I felt around him. I remember how he made me feel.
How I feel about him.
You think you know how you feel, then when you crash into the reality, what you thought you felt is only a fraction of the truth.
My heart beats a mile a minute and the ache that’s starting only builds the further I get away from Aeron.
Looking into my rearview mirror, I spot the unfamiliar truck that Aeron hopped in speeding up behind me.
Without looking, I turn on my right blinker and swerve into the next lane, ready to hurry off the nearest exit to escape him.
I get startled out of my panic when someone lays on their horn, and I jolt forward.
Crunch.
The impact of someone slamming into the back of my car makes my head slam forward and hit my steering wheel.
Fuck. I just crashed into someone.
I press on the brakes and pull over, my shaking hands so badly I’m barely able to shift into park. Aeron’s truck pulls up right beside mine. He gets out, running over to my door and ripping it open.
“Are you all right?” He shouts at me. He leans over, unclipping my seat belt and pulling me out of the car. “Mercy! I said, are you okay?” He shakes me a bit, and I snap out of my trance, looking up at him with watery eyes.
“I don’t know.” Visions of my previous car crash come to mind, and I feel nauseous with nerves.
I could have died. Again.
The guy from the other car gets out, and Aeron shoves me behind him to talk to him. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Aeron seems to be swearing. A lot.
“The police are coming.” Aeron says.
“Does someone need an ambulance?” Some passerby shouts.
Aeron looks at me, hands gripping my biceps. “Mercy, do you need to go to the hospital? Does something hurt?”
Clarity comes in slowly, and I assess myself from head to toe.
My head hurts, but it doesn’t feel that bad. The rest of me is fine, too.
“I’m okay.” Physically, anyway.
“We’re fine!” Aeron shouts. Turning back to me, he says, “Come on, get in my truck.” He pulls me along, shoving me into the car and shutting the door in my face.
I stare at the closed door, wondering when he got the right to boss me around again. I would fight him on this except for the fact that I don’t think my feet move right now. At all.
A police car pulls up a few minutes later. He talks to the other driver, takes pictures of the car, and then goes up to Aeron. Aeron tries to block him from me, giving his own statement. The police officer doesn’t like that. I see him frowning at Aeron, continuously pointing at me. Aeron shakes his head viciously, swinging his hands in the air in aggravation. When the officer puts his hands on his belt, I know I need to do something.
“Stop.” I open the door. Aeron turns around and gives me an angry look, but I ignore him. “I’ll give my statement.” I scowl at Aeron, and he finally backs down.
Hopping out of his truck, I walk up to the officer and tell him what happened. I don’t downplay it. I wasn’t paying attention, and that led to me swerving into the next lane too quickly. The car behind me was too close and slammed into the back of me. It wasn’t his fault, and I reiterate that.
The officer takes my information and writes me out a ticket for careless driving. As he passes Aeron on his way back to his car, he gives him a look, assessing the tattoos and frowning at him. Aeron sneers at him, but when he starts walking back towards me, his face turns back to worried.
“Are you sure you’re
okay?” He asks once he reaches me.
“I’m fine.” I look down at the ground. Now that the anxiety from the crash has lessened, I remember why I was driving like that in the first place. “I should go.”
“You can’t drive like that.” He points to my car, and glancing over at it, I see the entire back end is completely wrecked. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
“Oh, no. That’s okay.” I put my hands up and step back. I shouldn’t be around him. Bad things happen when I’m around him.
He frowns. “Would you just get in the car? Someone is already coming to pick yours up.”
“What? Who?”
“I found your insurance card in your car. I called a tow.” What? When did he go in my car? Have I been that out of it where I didn’t see him?
Shit. I really need to get out of here.
“Okay, that’s enough.” He grabs onto my shoulders, turning me around and once again putting me in the passenger seat of his car. Shutting the door in my face—again.
He gets in, and turning on his truck, he starts driving the final fifteen minutes to my house.
“So, how are you?” He asks after a few minutes.
I puff out a laugh. “Really? I just crashed my car. How do you think I’m doing?”
“Okay.” He sighs and goes back to silence.
Ouch.
“Sorry…” I look over at him, like, really look at him. He looks good. Healthy. Sober. “So, you’ve been in a sober house, you said?”
He nods his head. “Yup.”
“You’re not still using?” Because if he is, I’ll jump out of the car and walk home.
He frowns at me. “No, Mercy. I’m not using.”
“Does your dad know you’re out?”
“Yeah. We’ve been talking a bit…” What? Dave never said a word.
When we pull up to my house, I realize I never told Aeron where I live.
I look at him with narrowed eyes. “Um, thanks. For the ride and stuff.” I give him one last lingering look and hop out. When he turns off his truck and follows me, I turn back around with wide eyes.
“What’re you doing?” I ask in a panicked voice.
He looks at me, his gaze unsure for the first time since the wreck. “I need to ask you… I need a place to stay.” His gaze falls off to the side at this, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Wh-what? Are you joking?”
He scowls. “Forget it.” He turns around and starts to walk back to his truck, and an overwhelming panic fills me.
“Wait! Wait!” I run after him, grabbing him on his arm and ignoring the electricity that shoots through my arm. “Why do you need a place to stay? Why don’t you just go home?”
He stops, turning only his head to look at me over his shoulder. “I can’t go home. My dad won’t let me. And it’s not a good idea. Living there is not… healthy for me.” He says the words like they taste bad, but they still shock me.
Healthy for him? What?
“Okay… well. Friends? Anyone?” I’m grasping at strings here. Staying with me would by far be the worst idea ever.
The worst of the worst.
Aeron rips his arm out of my grasp, “I said forget it.” He starts to walk away again, but I grab onto him. Again.
Walking in front of him, I look up in his eyes. “Out of everywhere that you would go… why would you come here?”
He finally looks down at me, and it reaches so much more than my eyes. I can feel his gaze engrain itself in my bones. “Because it’s you.”
I gasp. If I were alone, I would be a puddle of tears at my feet. I clench my fists and let my fingernails poke my palms because it’s times like this that I want nothing more than to snort a pile of cocaine and forget the world.
But I can’t. And I never will again.
“What… do you think I’ll just open my door and let you waltz in?” I’m getting angry, but it’s the anxiety that’s my main emotion.
I’m overwhelmed and worried. The what ifs are popping up at a rapid pace in my brain and I don’t know the answer to any of them.
“I don’t… I don’t know what I was thinking at all coming here, actually. I better go. Sorry for bothering you.”
My heart races so fast that I feel like I can’t catch my breath. The thought of him leaving, and I don’t know when I’d see him again, makes me tremble. “Wait, Aeron. You can stay here.”
“No. It’s a bad idea. I’m going to go.” He tries walking around me, but I move in front of him and block him.
“No, please.” I rush out, “Stay. I want you to stay.” My chest heaves. I feel breathless.
He looks me in the eyes. “You sure?”
“Yes. Yes.” I nod towards the house and walk towards my door, unlocking it and opening up the door. “Come inside.”
I turn on my lights, picking up the stray junk I have laying around. I’m suddenly embarrassed I didn’t pick up my house better.
He looks around, assessing every nook and cranny he can find. “Nice place.” The words sound bitter, and his eyes seem cold.
“Yeah… it’s just. It’s nothing, really.” I laugh, shuffling the junk mail around.
“Hey, stop. You don’t have to clean up for me. Really.”
I stop what I’m doing, dropping the mail on the table and looking up at him. “Sorry.”
I walk to my living room and sit down on the couch. My house is pretty small, with the living room just off the small galley kitchen. It’s been updated, with all stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops. Dave had someone refinish my wood floors before I moved in.
The small living room has two leather couches set up in front of a smart tv I had mounted above the original wood burning fireplace.
Aeron comes and sits down on the other couch, getting comfortable a minute, then staring at me.
And then staring some more.
“How are you? No bullshit this time.” He rumbles.
“I’m… good.”
He cocks his head to the side.
“Sorry, I’m good. Things are good. School is hard at times, but I’m doing well.”
He nods his head.
“What about you?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Fine.”
“You promise you haven’t… used or anything since you’ve gotten out? Because I need to tell you right now, I can’t have any of that here.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m done with that stuff.” He levels me with a look, getting serious. “I need to clear the air about something.” I hold my breath, scared of what he’s going to say.
Is he going to say everything between us a mistake?
“I’m sorry about that night. At The Pit.”
I let out a breath and shake my head. “It’s fine. I don’t remember a lot about it, actually.”
“No. It’s not fine. What I did… how I was, was completely fucked up. I should have known better. To blame you for Aric’s death… to even bring you there in the first place was a horrible move on my part. It’s all my fault.” He shakes his head in irritation.
“It’s not your fault, Aeron, not all of it. How you talked to me what wrong, but Aric… his death was no one’s fault. Not ours, at least.”
His eyes glaze over and slowly, he nods.
We sit there in silence for a minute, staring at each other.
I can’t take the silence.
“So, what do you do? Do you have a job or anything?”
He nods his head. “Yeah. I work at the refinery in Oswald.”
I nod my head.
Then we sit.
And stare.
“I’m going to, um, do some homework. Let me show you to your room. Do you have a bag, or anything?” I get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen, for no reason other than to get a little breathing room.
“Oh, yeah. Let me go grab that.” He gets up and runs outside, and when he comes back in with a duffel, the realization of what’s really happening starts to sink in.
; I walk him down the hall to the spare bedroom, which luckily has a bed set up. It was just used as storage space for so long, but I finally put a bed in the other month.
“I, uh, could actually use a shower. Do you mind?”
My face flames. “Oh! Yeah, sure. Here.” I walk him down the hall to our tiny bathroom. “I’m just going to be in the other room. Let me know if you need me.” By the time I’m done with my sentence, I’m already halfway to the office, which is set up in the third bedroom of the house.
I close the door mostly, leaving it open only a crack so I can hear what’s going on. “What the fuck am I doing?” I whisper to myself.
I go to sit down in the chair near the desk and drop my face in my hands. I don’t know what I’m doing.
Why would I say yes to Aeron staying here?
The sound of the water in the bathroom distracts me. I picture Aeron in there, with his tattooed body getting pounded by the water, where I shower. Where I soap myself. Is he using my soap? My shampoo? I squeeze my legs together.
This is too much.
The shower turns off, and I look down at the screen to pretend I’m working.
“Mercy!” Aeron shouts from the bathroom.
I contemplate whether or not I should go and see what’s going on. I mean, this can’t be good right? It’s like a game or something?
But before I can decide what I’m going to do, my feet have already lifted me off the chair and I’m already walking down to the bathroom.
“What?” I say from the other side of the door. There’s no way in hell I’m walking in there.
“What?” I ask again when I don’t get an answer.
The door cracks open, and my eyes widen when Aeron stands there. Well, only his top half is showing, but still.
Steam billows out around him, and the humidity escapes around his body.
My mouth dries up. My eye zero in on his soaking wet torso. Covered in tattoos just like I remember. His hair is cut shorter than it was in jail, but still messy and long and wavy. He’s drenched.
He’s so hot.
“I need a towel.” He looks at me with a smirk, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Oh!” I startle, tearing my eyes away from his face and walking to the linen closet. “I’m sorry… I guess I never mentioned it to you. The towels are right here in the closet across the hall.” I grab one for him and walk back to him. “Here.” He doesn’t grab it, instead staring at me in the eyes with so many emotions running through his own.
