We Were Once

by Scott, S. L.

  “I’ve heard enough—”

  “I said those things to hurt you.” Remorse bleeds over his features, but my heart has already begun to close the door.

  “It worked.” Keeping my hands at my side, I have no energy to fight a revolving argument. “I can’t keep going in circles with you.”

  I see the way he holds his hand, and I have to fight the need to go to him, to care for him . . . to love him. “I’m hurting,” he says, his voice like gravel in his throat.

  “So am I, so let’s not hurt each other anymore.” I turn, deciding the best direction is the one away from him.

  “Chloe, please. Please.”

  My feet just don’t want to listen, though I have a feeling it’s my heart calling the shots because I’m still standing here, facing the man who is . . . was my everything, tears falling like rain down my face, giving him one last chance. He says, “If I could do anything to fix this, I would. I can’t take back the past.”

  Still struggling against who I used to be, I realize it wasn’t us together that destroyed our lives. It was tempting fate in the first place. “We were never supposed to fall in love.”

  “We did it anyway.”

  49

  Joshua

  “Love is real. You showed me that love is real. It’s not found in the connection of sex or fucking bonsai trees. It’s found in feeling invincible because the person you’re with makes you feel so high you can fly. It’s having you push me to be better and actually live, to experience this life.” Fuck, I’m talking nonsense. “I love you, Chloe.”

  My soul stands twenty feet away, drenched under a storm that rolled in to destroy my world again and us in the process. Even drenched, she’s so fucking beautiful in her strength. She should deny me. She should walk away from me and never come back. I’ve never deserved her. I told her to find some guy and live a good life. But if I get the chance to be him, I’ll take it because I want to be the one who makes her smile. I say, “I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  Dressed in my old shirt that brings us back to a time that may have been short in the grand scheme of things yet still haunts us years later, she stares at me. I feel like I’m losing her. I can’t. But I also can’t read her expression. I’ll take her hate, her ire, her comebacks, her sarcasm. I’ll take anything over losing hope, or her and this feeling of defeat. I did it once. I can’t do it again. Unsure if she heard me through the pouring rain, I repeat, “I love you.”

  “We’re smoke and mirrors, Josh. Nothing real.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I say, triggered from the sound of it off her tongue. I survived jail. I learned to defend myself in ways I never thought I would have to. But with Chloe, I’m at a loss. Laying down my weapons, I’m ready to fall at her feet if it would make a difference.

  “I fell for it as if we were real.” She came prepared with an arsenal of her own, cutting right to the bone. My own words twisted and sharp.

  “We are real,” I say, the potential loss of her catastrophic. I take a tentative step closer. “I’m Joshua. Remember the name tag, the bonsais, the lake?” Taking another two steps, I place my hand over my heart and ask, “Making love last night? Remember me?”

  “I know you. I don’t know the man who would hurt with one signature and knowingly throw me away like we were nothing.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Then we’re even!” she screams, punching her fists down.

  “Even? Fucking even?” Taking another big step, I shake my head in frustration. “It’s not about being even, or if my heart or yours is more on the line. We’re not beyond reason—”

  “That’s rich.” Her humorless laughter has her turning away with crossed arms over her chest.

  “Chloe, don’t you see that nothing else matters? Only we do. We always did things our own way, at our own pace. So, if that means fighting this out, then we’ll fucking fight this out. If that means—”

  “We don’t need to fight. This is what you wanted. When you signed that confession, you signed me away along with it. That’s the worst part. Knowing you ended us with a flick of your pen.” Anger fuels her fire, and she comes closer. “I would never sell us for a better opportunity for me.” Her feet come to an abrupt halt as if she’s about to cross an imaginary line in the sand. “My father can be very generous to get what he wants. Tell me, Josh. Did you get paid?”

  “What do you think? You know I’d never take money from that asshole.” I see Fred, the doorman, nervously eyeing us from inside. I should be more dignified outside the grandeur of this historic building, but fuck that. I’m still the kid from New Haven, and I won’t let anyone ever shame me again. “I got a three-year sentence instead. You got your dreams and became a doctor.”

  Affronted, she jerks. “What do I have to do with your misdeeds?”

  “Everything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” I close another five feet. “I signed the damn paperwork because it was the only option I had.”

  Her shoulders lower from her ears, and her head sags. She shivers from the rain and then squeezes her eyes closed, anguish wreaking havoc on her body. I itch to reach for her, hold her safe in my arms. She says, “I don’t understand.” Dropping her head into her hands, she cries. “I believed you.” Her eyes have lost the shine that happiness put there, and pain is all that remains. “I believed you, Joshua. You promised we were forever.”

  “Believe me now. Please believe me.” I go to her, pulling her into my arms.

  “You promised to marry me.”

  That same promise has plagued me over the years, never thinking I’d have a chance to right that wrong. “I’d marry you right now because nothing that has happened could change how I feel about you—not words or actions. There’s nothing we can’t overcome if we just listen to each other.”

  There’s no struggle, though her body is stiff. “I chose you,” she says against my chest. “I lost everything because I chose you.”

  “You only lost the things that didn’t matter, the things that came with a price too high to pay. You lost someone who only used you for gain and his own ego.”

  “I lost you because you told me to go.”

  There are no words left for me to say. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  We’ve stood in the rain long enough, so we move under the awning, not giving a fuck if it offends anyone in this building that we’re hashing out a past and future at the doorstep. I can’t walk away from Chloe until I know we’re together or over for good. God, I hope it’s the former.

  Our ravaged hearts beat in sync as she clings to the man she claims to hate. “We’re not over,” I whisper. “If I’ve learned anything, we never will be.” Her chin settles against me when she looks up. Keeping my voice low, I take her hand, holding it to the wreck inside my chest. “You only lost me temporarily. I was there, but you were always with me. Always in here.”

  The fight has left her muscles, and when I kiss her fingers, she lets me hold them to my lips. I memorize the softness and the way they gracefully wrap around my hand, remembering our conversation from earlier.

  She takes a breath as if surrendering to something unconscionable, and her voice is steady when she asks, “Why did you sign those papers?” These are not the conditions I wanted to tell her, but it’s the only opportunity I’ll get.

  “It wasn’t a confession. I signed a contract with your dad.”

  When she starts to pull away, I hold her there, refusing to release her hand from mine until she hears my side. “Are you kidding me?”

  I hate that she thinks I would betray her, but in light of the years of examination, that’s exactly what I did. I’m guilty as charged. But wasn’t the punishment enough? Do I have to live with this pain forever? I say, “He changed the contract. He had me sign one document, and then he changed the other pages.”

  That stills her, curiosity dragging her gaze back to me. Her stance softens. “What did you think you signed?”

  Fuck. I swipe my
hand over my hair, pushing the water away. “It sounds bad, but I can explain.”

  “Just tell me,” she says, her patience hanging by a thread.

  “My mom would keep her diner, and I would be allowed to live my life—”

  “And the conditions?”

  “I’d live this life without you.” Although it felt right at the time, the words have turned bitter over the years along with the logic that made me agree. No matter how I twist and turn it, I signed her away. I knew it then and I feel the pain of it now more than I ever did in the time we were apart.

  She turns away from me. Her shoulders shake, her heart aching so much that I can hear the pain she’s trying so hard to hide. But she never takes her hand from mine. I need to get it out, to confess all my sins and make her my judge and jury. “The other option was being arrested . . .”

  Disbelief has her returning to me, fisting my shirt, and pleading, “You were arrested.”

  “Being arrested and fighting for my freedom. Please understand I couldn’t do that to my mom. She’d lose the diner. She’d lose her home. She would sell everything to fight for me, and I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t put her in that position because she’d do it. I know she would.”

  “You signed so she wouldn’t have to help you?”

  “I signed because I was losing you either way. So I signed to get you to move on without me, and I signed to help my mom.”

  Our hands come apart, and she suddenly moves away from me. “You signed to save everyone but yourself. You think it was virtuous, but all I know is that you signed us away in the process?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought it was best.”

  “For whom? Not you and not me.” More tears fall, but this time, she wipes them away. “Joshua, I understand what you’re saying about your mom. My mom would do anything for me, but you could have told me. I could have done something. I could have helped you, fought for you more somehow. I could have waited for you . . . I would have. I would have waited a lifetime to be with you again. But you signed us away before you gave me the chance. Now you stand before me wanting the same opportunity you couldn’t even give me.”

  I hate the distance she’s put between us. It’s hard to tear down walls with the emotional miles keeping us apart. She looks down, and as much as I want to see her eyes again, I wait, wanting her to unburden her thoughts and words because she’s right. I lost my faith in us. I couldn’t. “You were in a coma, Chloe. I snuck in to see you, hoping you’d wake up and make that nightmare go away.”

  I won’t tell her she didn’t because I can’t have her taking the blame. That’s not why I’m telling her. “I need you to know I was there. For days, I begged anyone and everyone to see you.”

  Touching her cheek like a memory, she lifts her gaze, her eyes searching mine. “I know.” As the storm begins to pass, the words don’t rush but stay locked inside as she troubles her bottom lip. “When I said I know, I’m telling you that my soul felt yours. I knew you were there.” Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath and then slowly exhales. “I remember you there, your heat to my cheek, your words whispered in my ear.” Tears fall for new reasons as a small smile appears. “I remember you, Joshua.” Thank God.

  “I’m a part of you. You’re a part of me. Always.”

  She pushes into my arms, wrapping around me. I clasp one of her hands, our fingers folding together, and hold her with my other arm.

  “I know you,” she says, “better than anyone.”

  Please forgive me.

  Staring into my eyes with hers on bright again, she says, “I know your heart.”

  I know yours.

  Bringing her hand to my chest, she releases the pain. “You know my soul.”

  You are my soul.

  “I thought I lost you, Joshua.”

  “You never lost me, baby. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You were always with me. Was I with you?”

  A myriad of emotions flickers through her eyes, but the one thing that doesn’t happen is a denial. “You were the only thing I could never reason my way out of.” Looking back as if called to do so, she adds, “We made it through the storm.”

  This time I put my hand out, hoping to God she takes it. She eyes it and then rests her faith with mine. We duck out from under the awning into the early morning hours. Standing side by side, we stare up at the big sky. The clouds have blown over, leaving the moon exposed for a little longer. “We never did catch the moon that night, but we can chase the sun if you’re up to it?”

  “What did you say?”

  “What part? Chasing the sun?”

  “No, the moon. What do you mean we never caught it?”

  “The night of the accident. You wanted to chase the moon.”

  Rubbing her temple, she clenches her eyes closed. Her breathing becomes erratic, her hand trembling in mine.

  “What’s wrong, Chloe?”

  “Oh, my God! We were chasing the moon.” This isn’t the look of a woman who’s seen a ghost. This is a woman who’s touched heaven and lived to tell about it. “I remember, Joshua. I remember getting into the car with you in that purple dress and laughing so hard.” She hugs me with all her strength, resting her head against me again.

  I embrace her—her crazy moods, her ambitions, her kind heart, her laughter, her staring at me at close range in the middle of the night, her moans of pleasure, and her love for my bonsai. I embrace everything about this woman and kiss her head.

  She jumps up, covered in goose bumps and still soaking wet, and smiles like the sun rose inside her. “I remember the night of the accident. Everything. I remember the feeling of freedom, of flying, the wild abandon, the love, God, the love I felt . . . I still feel so deeply for you.”

  The tears have stopped coming, but her smile falters. Placing her hands carefully, so gentle on my chest, she says, “I remember you tried to buckle the seat belt, the deer . . .” She swallows, her eyes briefly leaving mine as if the memories are too powerful to fight. “I remember you trying to save me.”

  My chest is tight as I listen to the highs and lows of what her memory returns to her. “We lived a lifetime of pain in a span of a few short years.” I hold her hands between mine and kiss the tips of her fingers. “I thought I lost you that day, and I couldn’t survive losing you again. I signed the papers that I thought would give you the life you deserved. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

  With her eyes on mine, she caresses my face. “I died that day, but your love saved me.” She takes my hand and aligns our tattoos together again. “I thought you were my hope, but you turned out to be my salvation.” Lifting on her toes, she kisses me with passion, hope, and a long love that took years to grow.

  Her eyes are still closed for a beat longer when I open mine. Seeing her dip down and savoring us on her lips has me ready to skip a few stages. “Maybe next time, we opt for the shortcut to get here.”

  She smirks, one that she learned from the master. “What’s the fun in that?”

  50

  Joshua

  The doors open, and we trip our way out of the elevator, my back hitting the wall. My shirt is thrown to who knows where, the button of my jeans flying down the hall. Holding her face, I kiss her while we keep moving toward the door, bumping against walls and almost falling over.

  The frenzy of heated kisses, tight embraces, and lust coursing through us as if we were pregaming with that fight and kickoff started the second we made up.

  Hopping on one foot to get the wet denim off, and then the other, I’m left in my boxer briefs when I start stripping the soaking shirt over her head. Her body shimmers, her nipples hard and deep pink. Ripping our mouths apart, I hold off her groping hands. “You’re not wearing a bra.” I yank the shirt back down, looking around to see if anyone is around.

  “I was in a hurry,” she says, not giving one damn if anyone sees us.

  Grabbing her waist, I toss her over my shoulder and run for the door at the far end. The door is left to
shut on its own as I’m shoved to the wall. She plants her hands on my chest, as if I’d actually want to escape, and then eyes the hole in the wall next to me. “How’s the hand?”

  “Always the doctor.” I hold it up and wiggle my fingers. In actuality, it wasn’t the smartest move for a chef to punch a wall, but I was lucky this time. It hurts, and I’ll have some bruising, but it doesn’t seem like any long-term damage has been done.

  Seeming satisfied, she puts her mouth on my chest and works lower with licks, kisses, and sucks. “Fuck,” I groan. Her mouth is amazing. I was already hard, but now I’m almost painfully so as she takes my boxers with her.

  “God, I love your body. You’d make the statue of David envious.” On her knees, she looks up, my world lit like stars in her eyes. Her hands wrap around my cock, and she kisses the tip. The tease.

  Fortunately, not for long.

  She closes her eyes and takes me into her mouth. Scraping my fingers through her hair, I take a hold at the crown. I angle just enough to watch her take me as deep as she can and slide back. Every part of me is alive with wanting her. Her eyes flash open, the tips of her lashes still wet as they tap her brow. I remember another time I saw the devil in her eyes, desire shaping her lids dip back down.

  Holding the back of my legs, she works me with her tongue, grazing her teeth, and sucking, causing my head to fall back. The first tremors start deep in my belly and spread faster and quicker, starting to shoot through every part of my body. My intention to wait until I was taking her is blown to smithereens as my body erupts. My head hits the wall twice and then a third time as I come. “Fuck . . . Fuuuck.”

  I open my eyes, my breathing heavy in my chest. Looking down at her with that half-smirk and arched eyebrow, I shake my head and give her the same. “You don’t know what you’ve done, baby.” I bend down to pick her up, bringing her to her feet. Feeling her in my arms is hands down the sweetest heaven I’ll ever know.

  “What have I done?” she asks, challenging me.