by JL Mac
“Listen—” I begin to do whatever it takes, say whatever I have to gain access to the wing where Sylas is admitted.
“Rae?” I spin in place to see Audrey Broussard behind me with red puffy eyes and a deep wrinkle knitting her brows.
“Audrey,” I whisper then clear my throat and try again. “Audrey,” I say a bit clearer.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Yes, well…” I look around unsure of what to say.
“You want to come with me to see him?”
“Ma’am it’s family only at this time,” the administrator begins to say again.
“Raegan Potter is family,” Audrey says simply brooking no room for argument.
“Yes ma’am. Please sign in here,” the woman instructs me then quickly prints a sticky nametag that will give me access to visit Sylas.
“Come on,” Audrey loops her arm in mine and we walk in silence down a wide corridor with glistening, clean floors that the fluorescent lighting seems to bounce off of. “He’s here.”
“Okay,” I whisper, swallowing thickly.
“He’s on lots of pain medication so he’s not awake.”
Tears fill my eyes and a knot the size of my fist feels as though it’s disrupting my ability to breathe. I swipe the tears away as they fall, one after the other.
“He has a traumatic brain injury, a collapsed lung, and several other injuries but the doctors told us he’s going to be okay.”
“Rae he looks fairly banged up so don’t be alarmed.”
“Go on,” she says with her own tears glittering in her eyes. I walk to the entrance to Sylas’s ICU room. “I’ll just be right out here,” Audrey says, motioning toward the hallway.
Machines fill the space around the bed creating a perimeter of chirping and beeping and moving medical technology. My throat feels as though it has clogged with sand and I try to focus my efforts on breathing as I go to his bedside. His left hand lies at his side, relaxed. I tuck his hand between both of mine. His hand is warm in mine and so much bigger than I remember them when we were teens.
Though I am not a particularly religious person, prayer flows from my mouth on autopilot. I grew up in church—shared Sunday school classes with Sylas. We sang hymns shoulder to shoulder. We said prayers hip to hip. We were brought up being taught that prayer would be essential to our lives and would be a tool for coping with life’s most trying times. I didn’t necessarily believe it back then. I do now.
“You shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” I whisper to his unconscious form. “You should have been safe with me. What would I do without you? It’s more than I can stand not having you in my life but to lose you completely forever? I couldn’t bare it Sylas. I couldn’t,” I sob quietly, bending to press a kiss to his hand. “I hate loving you but I hate not having you the most,” I croak. “I hate that I blame you. I hate that I still want you.” I sniffle quietly, surveying his abused features.
“I shall do one thing in this life—one thing certain—that is, love you, and long for you, and keep wanting you till I die,” I whisper the Far From The Madding Crowd quote against the back of his bruised and cut up hand then lean over him imparting him with another prayer for peace and healing. I kiss his forehead where stark white gauze covers his skin, then leave. I walk away as though I’d never been there. It’s a difficult task because every part of me wants to stay by his side. Hate what he did, what he caused, as I may, I think I’ll always love Sylas Broussard. There’s just no help for it. I think I’ll spend the rest of my days wavering between loving him and despising him there’s no help for that either. One thing will never change. Love him or hate him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never have him. I’ve spent years walking away and keeping away from Sylas. And now, with the knowledge that he will recover from his wounds, I leave him behind all over again.
As it turns out there are no Uber drivers in or around Cattail, at least none that are available at the moment. Maybe they are all at the Parish Fair. I managed to catch a ride with a really lovely middle-aged couple. All I had to do was mention the name Sylas Broussard and like magic they smiled and waved for me to, “Get on in.” I left Sylas at the fairgrounds, putting off texting him until I had already arrived back at his cabin. I went through the backdoor Sylas never locks because according to him there’s no need for it in Cattail. I gathered my things and got on the road back to Palmetto Grove. The forty-five minute drive back was made worse by my phone’s steady buzzing with phone calls and texts from a frantic Sylas. The last text in my inbox simply read, What the fuck, Rae?
I have only been at Momma’s for an hour when I look out my window in time to see his truck come barreling into the driveway, his large form seemingly out the door before the thing has even come to a complete stop.
“This is starting to feel a lot like a bad habit with us!” he yells loudly from the front yard.
“Raegan,” Momma shouts on her way up the stairs. She comes to my side at my bedroom window and tuts in disapproval, her eyes pinched at the edges, her mouth drawn into a deep frown.
“So this is what we’re doing? Reuniting every decade or so just so we can lie to ourselves and pretend that this isn’t real?” he roars from the front yard.
“I warned you,” she whisper-yells as I shoulder past her.
I turn on my heel and bolt down the stairs, nearly falling on my face in the process. Plucking my sunglasses from my hair and putting them in place, though the sun is low in the sky, I fly through the front door and go to him, peeking around the yard to see if any neighbors have heard his booming voice yet. “We just gonna pretend that there isn’t some serious shit we need to discuss? I ask you to honor our pact and your answer is to just hop a flight right outta my life? Again?” he roars, pushing his hands through his glossy, thick hair.
“How do you know—”
“Called Bethany,” he interrupts with his arms folded over his broad muscular chest.
“Sy, please,” I try to sound sure but if I know Sylas, he hasn’t missed the wobble in my voice.
“You know, this whole time, I’ve been trying to prove to you we still have something special—something worth giving a chance to grow. Been trying to figure out how to work things out. I’ve been doing my best to make you feel comfortable enough to say whatever it is that’s been going through that mind of your but I’ve been spinning my wheels haven’t I?”
“Sylas,” I start, measuredly. “While I agree we have crazy chemistry—we always have—and what we share in the bedroom is something I won’t soon forget, you have to see that there is no future for us. Only a past.” At that, he reels back a step.
“That’s your assessment of where I stand in this race, Miss High and Mighty political strategist?”
“It is. I’m sorry Sylas but if you thought something would come of this, then I’m afraid you misread me and the situation.”
“Yeah well that’s a first for me. Been figurin’ you out all my life but I guess I’ve gotten a little rusty,” he muses sarcastically.
Not even close.
“So what’s your answer, Rae?”
“Stop it,” I attempt. “I just explained—”
“Answer me. If you have the balls to ditch me again, you’re going to have to give me the courtesy of saying so to my face. What’s your answer?” he demands, a muscle in his jaw twitching with emotion.
“It’s not you. And maybe if my life were different… It’s just that—”
“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to placate me with some bullshit about how your life is in DC and how we’re so different now and all that other horse shit.”
“Am I wrong though?” I ask with my hands on my hips, Sy regards me with those keen eyes of his.
“Rae, baby, listen to me,” he pleads, his voice rough. “I’m yours and you’re mine, so go ahead and tell me what it is that’s keeping us apart because I know it isn’t fucking square mileage from here to DC. Why won’t you just unknot your panties and get over whatev
er has you all messed up so we can be together,” he says harshly and I bristle.
“This is the part where I remind you that all women have their secrets and contrary to what your giant ego has convinced you of, you aren’t privy to all my secrets, Sylas.”
“Oh yes I am. You’ve always been my book to read Rae. Every line, every word.”
“Not this chapter,” I snap, mustering every ounce of willpower I have to keep my hands from fidgeting.
“You just keep on trying to convince yourself of that and let me know how it works out for you. Because I’ll be the first to tell you, there’s no forgettin’ us. I tried. You can spend the rest of your life making yourself miserable trying to forget but you’ll no sooner forget what we had than you’ll live long enough to see the sun burn out and the stars fall. It ain’t happening in this lifetime, Rae.”
I know.
“Give it up,” he coaxes with his palm outstretched my way. “Please.”
I wish I could.
“If we’re done here…” I mumble as I turn on my heel before he catches sight of the tears pooling behind my sunglasses.
“Nah, nah, nah! I still want your fuckin’ answer,” he says snagging my elbow and whirling me in place. “Are you going to honor the pact—will you move past all the bullshit and finally be my wife?”
“Sy—”
“Yes or no,” he demands though I know, and he knows my answer. It doesn’t matter to him. He wants to make me say the words, and it hurts like hell.
“No,” I say the ugly word that is so small but so weighty in my mouth.
“Fine but I’m making you a promise right now, if you wanna walk—if you’re stepping out of my life again, don’t bother waltzing back into town thinking I’ll be around next time. I lost you before, I’m about to lose you again,” he pauses sucking in a shaky breath, “I can’t take it again, Rae.”
“You aren’t losing me, Sy. We’re still fr—”
“Friends?” he barks with his eyebrows raised high, nearly touching his hairline. I cross my arms over my chest and study his face. “You honestly think I want to be your friend, Rae? I just asked you to be my wife, not my fucking friend. Being your friend was never enough when we were kids and it damn sure isn’t enough now, so don’t insult me.” He turns on his heel kicking at the grass underfoot. “Jesus, any other woman. Any! But you give me the most stubborn pain in the ass female on the planet.” He says with his gaze skyward and his hands tossed out in exasperation as he talks to the heavens.
“I’m not the woman for you, Sy,” I say softly, hating the poison words as they slip from my mouth. “I’m everything they say I am and I am content to stay this way,” I lie. “I’ve worked so hard. I was offered a position as campaign manager for a candidate that could make history. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. People will remember me. I could be a part of history,” I explain. Sy faces me with tired eyes and slumped shoulders.
“You already are,” he says sadly, stepping into my space. He pulls my sunglasses away from my eyes, revealing the pools of tears there. He cups my face in his calloused hands and kisses me deeply, demanding but gentle, possessive and guiding. He breaks away abruptly, takes one lingering look at me, places my sunglasses back over my face and walks away. I watch him as he gets in his truck, leaving me and doing exactly as he promised he would—making it really hard on me and ruined for any other man. I don’t see any way around it though.
I remain in my parent’s front yard where Sy left me for some time though I am not certain exactly how long. With my mind racing and my heart thrashing, awareness of time seems to have taken a backseat. With one more lingering look down the road, I breathe deeply, sniffling away my tears. When I turn toward the house, I see my mother settling into the porch swing. She gently pats the place beside her and I feel like a little girl in need of her mother’s comfort and love all over again. Forcing my feet to move, I trudge to her, the evening cicadas coming to life in long bursts of ruckus mixed in with chirping crickets.
“Oh, Rae,” she sighs tossing her arm over my shoulders, gently coaxing me closer to her side. Tears stream freely down my face, dripping fat and hot from my jaw.
“Sweetheart, you gotta let him go,” Mom says with her lips pressed to my temple.
My head drops, my chin nearly touching my chest. “Don’t start with me, Momma,” I stutter tiredly, between breaths.
“I’m not startin’ anything with you Rae, I’m just tryin’ to help you finish somethin’,” she says nodding her chin in the direction Sylas went.
“Momma, I’ve tried to let him go. I have shoved him away. I have peeled him off. I have coerced him out the door. I have insulted and berated him. I’ve lied to him. I’ve tried it all. He hasn’t budged much yet.”
“Rae, my girl, I love you and I’ll be the very last person on this planet to ever give up on you but sweetheart, has it ever occurred to you that you’ve done those things to everyone and not just Sylas?”
Fresh rivers of regret snake over my cheeks and my grief over Sy is matched only by how much remorse has surged forward.
“I never wanted to hurt you or anyone—I don’t like that I have but—I—I have to be this way. It’s just how I have turned out. It’s who I am.”
“I think it’s time you explain to me why?”
My eyes snap up to hers. The clever gaze I inherited from her, challenging me.
“Momma,” I hesitate, swallowing roughly.
“One day, when—god willing—you become a momma you’ll understand me when I say that there is no safer place for you than right here with me and there is no one more devoted to your happiness than me.” She pauses, her eyes scanning the horizon, shades of luminescent pink reflecting in her eyes. “The minute I saw your face, Ellie’s face, and Teddy’s,” she pauses, blowing out a shaky breath. “I felt like a super woman. Not because I carried and gave birth to a beautiful baby but because all of a sudden I felt driven enough, motivated enough, in absolute love enough to rip the world apart if it meant keeping you safe and happy. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” She moves away from me then, shifting her hips so her shoulders are facing me. Her graceful hands belie their appearance as she grips the caps of my shoulder firmly, forcing me to face her. “If you have pain that I’m not aware of, as I suspect you do, you need to know that as your momma, I’ll carry that hurt with you. I’d carry it all if I could, but I can’t,” her voice quivers for a moment while my entire body quakes with sobs I won’t lend a voice to. “So the next best thing is for you to share your burden with your old momma and give me a chance to feel useful,” she laughs, a small, sad sound that chips at my walls. “You can’t carry on this way. I want my girl back. Let me try to help,” she pleads, squeezing my hands in hers. Her blue eyes shine with tears, her brow in wrinkled in distress and it takes a brick of plastic explosive to the barricade guarding my hideous truth from the world.
I was so worried going home would result in Sylas uncovering my ugly truth. I never saw my mom coming in from left field like a boss. My inner circle collectively give a nod of respect. She’s right about several things, I can’t keep living this way, and she is definitely a fucking superhero.
Raegan
17 years old
After seeing Sylas with Brooklyn in his Jeep I find that I am actually thankful that I’m working double shifts this entire weekend. I’m hoping two and a half full days will give me enough time to calm down and figure out where I stand with Sylas. Part of me wants to hate him for turning to Brooklyn so quickly—and I do hate that he has obviously turned to her but most of me can’t bear the idea of being without him as my best friend and boyfriend. Still, the mental image of Sylas with someone else today is vivid and stinging and the worst of it is the fact that I was so easily replaced when the idea of replacing Sylas seems unthinkable. Did I mean so little? Is the joke on me? Am I the punch line? I spend my entire shift thinking of all the possible scenarios that could play out. Maybe we will get back together. Mayb
e I can make a long distance thing with him work. Maybe… we are truly over. In which case I plan to move as far away as I can and throw myself into my studies.
My evening shift at the grocery store flies by thanks to me being a zombie the whole time. I’ve been so lost in thought I haven’t had a moment to count the minutes like I normally would. Like Sy would. Most shifts Sylas texts me with a countdown to when I am off work and free to see him. My phone has been silent though. Not a single text message or phone call from him has come through and I wonder if it’s because he’s angry with me or if he doesn’t care enough to seek me out in the first place. I flip the switch to darken my lane and go about cashing out for the night. I slide my till drawer across the office counter to Derek and turn to leave just to see Josh lingering outside the office door.
“Hey Josh,” I mutter as I move to walk past him.
“Hey, Raegan. I uh, listen I hate to ask, but I don’t have a ride home tonight and Derek said you live pretty close to the house we just rented. Could I bum a ride?”
“Oh. Um—” I shift my weight, leaning my back against the wall. The mention of someone else in my car where Sylas usually rides makes hives crawl beneath my skin but then the memory of seeing Brooklyn in Sy’s Jeep chases away any of that nonsense. What’s the point in saving Sylas a seat he doesn’t seem to want, anyway?
“Totally cool if you don’t want to or can’t. My mom will be done with her shift at midnight and I could get her to come pick me up.” He rushes out.
“Midnight? It’s only ten,” I say dumbly. Josh shrugs and smiles. I study his face—he has a nice face—and decide to say screw it. Sylas isn’t the only one who can so quickly pile someone else into his shotgun seat.
“I don’t mind at all,” I say forcing a smile that feels out of place on my lips.
“Great,” he smiles fully, and it’s a great smile but somehow I can’t make myself like it.
The shifter clicks into park and I hit the unlock button to let Josh out of my car but he just smiles at me, biting the inside of his cheek. “Wanna come in? My mom will be home soon and she’d love to meet you. I—uh—may have mentioned the gorgeous girl at work a time or two,” he says looking away from me as though he is embarrassed.
