When Opposites Collide Boxset

by Kathy Coopmans

  As I pass her old room, Amelia is curled up in a shaking ball on her bed. Her sobs racking her entire body. I plant my hand on the doorframe fighting the internal battle raging inside of me to pull her into my arms. I hate seeing her this way.

  “I’m leaving, Amelia. There’s nothing more than I want right now than to come and hold you.”

  She doesn’t roll over or even acknowledge me, but deep down I know she hears me. “I want fucking justice for you to the point of greediness. Yeah, the justice part is for me, too. There’s no greater gift I could give to you. I need you to talk about it, so I can find them. There’s no hidden agenda here, Amelia. Only one clear picture of me loving an amazing woman.”

  With that, I walk out of our house leaving the reason for living behind curled up in her own misery. I connect my phone to Bluetooth. Hitting buttons until I find the number I need. It’s ringing loudly before I pull out of the garage.

  I inhale Amelia’s scent that lingers in the car, shattering the pieces left of my heart.

  “Fuck.” I pound my hand on the steering wheel as I take off down the road.

  “Ronan, here.”

  “I’ve fucked up.”

  It’s a simple truth.

  “Zeke?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Amelia needs you. I pushed her too far trying to help her. She tried to run. I begged her to stay. There’s no way I could let her go out onto the streets. I don’t know if she’ll stay, but she’s here now. I need help, Ronan.”

  Ronan exhales loudly on the other end of the phone. “Renee’s off today. I’ll call her. I’m not capable of leaving right now. She’ll be fine, Zeke. We’ve got her.”

  “Thank you,” I mumble. Anger driving me out of my Goddamn mind. I’m not angry with her or myself. I’m angry at the people who have tormented her life. Shattered a young woman who will struggle for God knows how long. And I’m angry, because I’m not the one who will be helping her through this.

  My phone starts beeping. I reach over and shut it off. I’m grateful Ronan sensed my urgency, going straight into action. It doesn’t even come close, though, to the torture inside of me boiling to a blinding state.

  A thought occurs to me. I’m not going anywhere until I know for sure she’s safe. I slam on the brakes, place the car in reverse, stopping in front of my house to have a view of the front door.

  Amelia can’t exit the back and make it to the streets because of the towering privacy fence. The same fucking fence that’s shielded us from the world as we devoured each other’s bodies. I slam the steering wheel once again and roar with frustration. My own greedy need to kill those fuckers may just be the vice that takes her away from me forever.

  My line of vision never strays from the front door. It’s not until a black mid-size crossover pulls into my drive that I let out a baited breath. Renee hops from her car, knocks on the door only waiting for a few seconds before trying the doorknob and entering. I relax back into the leather seats with my only sliver of solace knowing she isn’t alone and her chances of turning back to the streets are slim. Renee won’t allow it. She loves Amelia too much.

  There’s something deep down inside of me screaming loud and proud that even though Amelia threatened to walk back out onto the streets, I don’t for one second believe that she wouldn't have fought for her future. She would’ve gone to a safe place or sought out friends for help. She’s been dedicated to attending meetings at the center, growing leaps and bounds each day. But there was no way in hell my woman was going to even step a foot on the streets again. Not as long as I’m still breathing.

  48

  Amelia

  The phone on my nightstand buzzes once again. I don’t need to look to see who it is. I know damn well it’s Zeke. He’s been blowing up my phone for three days now. I stopped reading the messages after the fourth one.

  Renee stayed with me for the first two nights until I convinced her I’d be okay. And I am going to be just fine. I’ve worked each day, attended a few extra meetings, and painted.

  The only major problem is that every single painting reminded me of Zeke, even the abstract ones. Each stroke of the paint brushes a haunting reminder of him. The canvases with sunsets, bluebirds, swimming pools, and watches are all his just like my heart.

  I realize now that I experienced my first brutal panic attack since leaving rehab. They warned me it would be ugly, striking fast and with violence. They were right. Nothing could’ve prepared me for it. I lost my ability to process a single thought, drowning in all of the memories. I lashed out at the person I could hurt the most. Zeke. Then I was going to run fast and very far away from him and all the memories that hit me at once. I wanted to get high, so badly it was all I thought of. It still is. Somehow, I’ve managed to push through it. Talking with Renee, having her hold me when I break down in a cold, damp sweat, her tender voice telling me that I’m stronger than the weakness and fear that wants to drag me back under. And Ronan, he’s once again left his door wide open for me to step through if needed.

  I gave Zeke my birth certificate right before he left. If he wants to find them, he has the information he needs. I know I rattled off my mother’s name during my fit. But if this is important to him, then he has the proof in his hands that the bitch is really my mother.

  “Oh, Amelia, where do thee hide?” I jump, rolling my eyes as Zoe’s high-pitched voice echoes through the house.

  The girl is strung tighter than a damn yo-yo with lower than lows then skyrocketing up into the sky the next moment. She ditched me a few times, but now she’s stuck like glue again. It’s always on the tip of my tongue to ask her what’s going on. But with my life a mess right now, I know I don’t have the strength in me to tackle whatever she has going on. I feel like a shitty friend over it.

  “Nuggets,” she squeals, flopping in the middle of my bed. “Done working?”

  I scrunch my eyes at her. “Nuggets?”

  She shrugs, running her finger over the Apple logo on the lid of my Mac. “It came to me. It fits you, and I ran with it.”

  “Nuggets?” I ask again. “And how in the hell does that fit me?”

  “You’re a nugget of goodness.” She pauses searching for words to back this up. “Like a nugget of sunshine. Oh, fuck it, I just wanted to call you Nuggets.” Good Lord, if I didn’t know her better, I would swear she’s the one with the drug problem. She’s acting downright crazy.

  We both erupt into a fit of laughter. The louder Zoe laughs, the harder it makes me laugh until we are full out cackling with tears rolling down our faces and our arms clutched around our stomachs. It seems all I needed was a good dumb laugh shared with a friend to ease the pressure on my chest.

  “You are too much sometimes, Zoe.”

  “Love you, too, Nuggets.” She rolls to her side, propping her head up and resting it in her palm. “You look like shit.”

  “Oh, so now she’s not only a nurse, she turned into a comedian and a charmer,” I retort.

  She shrugs. Her face going serious. “Maybe. I’m not going to skirt around the reason I’m here, Amelia. One, Robbie is pulling a double shift. Two, I miss you. And three, Zeke sent me.”

  Hearing his name spoken out loud makes me squeeze my eyes tight hoping the action will make everything disappear into thin air.

  “Open your eyes.”

  I don’t like being told what to do any more than I like hearing his name, but I open them staring angrily at my friend.

  “Here.” She hands me an envelope. “His only instructions were to make sure you read it. And if you refuse, then I’m supposed to read it to you.”

  “What is it?” I ask dumbly.

  “He misses you. He’s a mess. If you ask me, which you haven’t, I think you are acting like a child over this,” she whispers.

  “You're right; I didn’t ask you,” I bite out, remove my gaze from hers, and stare blankly at the envelope.

  My brain is exhausted from everything that’s happened the last few days. Hell, I nearly had
a meltdown at lunch today choosing between ham and turkey for my sandwich.

  I open the envelope, pull out the piece of paper, unfold it, and read his words silently.

  Bluebird,

  I’ve kept my promise and left. I hope you’ve had time to think. My intentions were never to upset you, and for that, I’m truly sorry. You’ll never know just how deeply sorry I am. After taking the time to think myself, I’m not going to apologize for wanting answers. You deserve them, and so do I. We deserve them together.

  We need to talk. I miss you. I need you. I’m a struggling man here, and the next step in working this out is on you. There will be a cab waiting for you out front at seven tonight. It will be your choice whether you take that ride back to me.

  Zeke

  The wetness seeping from my face blurs my vision. My heart is pounding so hard it scares me. He’s not giving up on me. He is in as much pain and conflict as me.

  Zoe reaches over for my hand.

  “I’m sorry for what I said. Amelia, there are times when we all have to take responsibility for our actions. He’s trying to bring you closure, to help you move on, and pushing him away isn’t the answer neither one of you need. You have to talk things out. Fight for what you really want. The man loves you. He’s not out to hurt you. You are going to fight your addiction daily until you get it in your head that you're strong enough to face things head-on. Don’t push away the one good thing you have in your life. Zeke was at in that restaurant for a reason. That reason was to not only save your life, but it was also to fall in love with you and for you to fall back.”

  She’s right about all of it. Every single word.

  “I’m scared,” I admit.

  “And you should be. Relationships are scary. Especially the ones that you want to hold on to. But pushing him away, not talking this out isn’t a relationship, Amelia. It's being a coward. And you, my friend, are far from one. You're brave. Strong. And it’s about damn time you prove it. Have you been happy these past few days without him?”

  “No, I’m miserable. Every single part of me hurts without him,” I tell her honestly.

  “Then that sounds like your answer. Get up, get dressed, and go to him.” For a woman who one day has her head in the clouds and the next day she’s sheltering herself, she sure gives some great advice.

  Zoe climbs from the bed and heads straight for my closet. The girl wastes no time on a mission to get me dressed. Of course, she has the periwinkle dress dangling on the tips of her fingers. I look over at the alarm clock and see we only have one hour.

  “First, you need to shower,” Zoe snaps. “I’ll get everything put together on my end.”

  “Wait. Did you read this?” I ask.

  “No. He told me he was asking you to meet him somewhere. I’m simply making sure you do.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to use the shower in Zeke’s bathroom. All my things are in there.” I dash out of the room, excitement coursing through my veins to see him.

  As I walk in running my fingers along the smooth marble counter, I realize our argument for what it really was. A bump in the road and nothing else. I melt under the water with Zeke’s masculine scent surrounding me in a warm hug. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Love has never been an easy thing for me. In all honesty, I didn’t know the meaning of it until I fell for Zeke. He symbolizes strength, caring, and devotion, and quite frankly, I’m frightened that my weaknesses will drive him away. But Zoe is right. A relationship is something you fight for. Together.

  I grab my shampoo, rinse my hair, follow through with everything else as I snap to my senses and quickly finish my shower.

  Everything else happens in a whirlwind when I make it back to my room wrapped in a towel. Zoe leads me to my bathroom, makes me sit in front of the makeup vanity. Her hands comb through my hair, adding her magic touch before blow-drying it. She straightens every single last piece of it until it hits the middle of my back.

  I’m a bit nervous when she breaks out the makeup, eyeing each color warily. She bites down on her bottom lip, concentrating while she works. The loud and obnoxious woman from before seems to be drawing into herself. Something is going on with her. She’s helped me. I need to help her.

  “Zoe, has everything been okay?”

  “Yeah, why?” She doesn’t even flinch when she answers.

  “You ditched me twice.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Robbie can be overprotective. We’ve had a rough couple of months.”

  “You’d tell me if anything was wrong or if you needed help, right?”

  She stares into my eyes, and the hurt is evident. “Yes, but I’m good, Amelia. I promise. Go get dressed.”

  She shuffles from the room before I have a chance to pry her for more. I’m not giving up on her, the same way she has never given up on me.

  I slip into panties and a lace bra then drag the dress over my head, smoothing my hair out when I’m done. It feels weird running down my neck. I’m always pulling the mess up on my head.

  I barely recognize the woman in the mirror. My eyes are subtle with a smoky feel, my cheeks dabbled with the perfect hint of blush, and my lips painted in a shade of nude. It’s not necessarily the hair and makeup but the hope that’s playing out in my features.

  “Let me see you.” Zoe bursts into the bathroom. “Oh, wow. You look amazing. Simply stunning.”

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling at my reflection staring back at me in the mirror.

  I turn and spot a bottle of perfume sticking out of Zoe’s purse as she’s stuffing her makeup inside.

  “May I?” I ask, pointing.

  “Yes, it’s Happy by Clinique.”

  Zoe studies her face in the mirror, scrunching up her brow and complaining about her wrinkle lines. I roll my eyes. The woman is exotically beautiful. I grab the perfume, causing her purse to spill over. Several orange pill bottles topple out onto the counter. I gasp, slapping my hand over my mouth.

  “Zoe?” I whisper in utter horror.

  “It’s nothing.” She scrambles for the bottles, shoving them back inside.

  I react fast, grabbing her hand, stopping her. “What is this?”

  “Don’t,” she scolds.

  “Zoe.”

  She shoots her face up to me, boring holes in my head. “It’s not what you think, Amelia.”

  “Then talk,” I demand.

  “I’m not an addict.”

  “Didn’t say you were.” I squeeze the top of her hand harder. “What is going on?”

  I plead with her, determined not to give up.

  “I struggle with manic depression.” She shuts her eyes tightly. “Robbie doesn’t like me taking meds. Claims they make me a robot. I can’t do it, Zoe. I just can’t live like that anymore. I hide them in my purse.”

  “Zoe.” I release her hand and wrap my arms around her, pulling her in for a hug.

  She begins to cry in my arms. I hug her tighter to me, running my hands up and down her back. He mood swings make sense to me now.

  “Does he hurt you?” I whisper into her ear.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I don’t care, Zoe. None of it matters. Only you do.”

  She pulls back until we are eye to eye. “He doesn’t hurt me. He’s just hard to live with.”

  “Okay. I’m here if you need me, and I mean it. Your friendship means more to me than you’ll ever know. You were the first real friend I’ve had, Zoe. I’m here. I always will be. No more ditching or avoiding me, okay? You will stay in contact, or I’ll change my mind about learning how to drive and find you.”

  “That might not be a bad thing, you know. Getting your driver’s license.”

  “Someday. Like I said before, this city is full of crazy drivers. You being one of them.”

  “Right. I’m going. Have a good time.” Oh, no. She’s not blowing me off that easily.

  “You have a place here if you need it, Zoe. Renee’s, too. You have all of us.”

  She tak
es a step back, hoists her purse on her shoulder, and straightens her spine. “It’s really not that bad, Amelia. I promise.”

  I nod. This isn’t over, far from it. I’ll be there for Zoe each step of the way until I truly believe she is safe. The only promising fact is, she has a graveyard shift tonight at work. We hug for a long time before I crawl into the taxi. I shoot a text to Renee, relaying briefly my concern for Zoe and adding on that I’m off to see Zeke. I wait for her response. Once she answers back, I stuff my phone in my purse and lean my head back to relax.

  The city and its lights fly by in a blur during the quiet taxi ride. I feel whole again going to the man I love. Yes, we have lots to talk about and figure out. The important part is we are fighting together for it.

  The cab comes to a halt in front of an expansive museum. I look up, and my jaw drops. This isn’t just any museum. It’s an art museum.

  And Zeke is standing at the top of the steps. Waiting. He’s dressed in black suit with a silver tie. His hands tucked in his pockets with his sight on me in the back seat. He takes my breath away. I don’t want to be without him again.

  My hands scramble to open the door.

  But Zeke, he’s right there to open it for me. We never take our eyes off one another.

  My feet are uncertain when they hit the sidewalk. A hand extends to guide me. It’s warmth coursing through my veins. Electricity shoots up my arm and sparks ignite. So many of them it’s blinding.

  He throws a crisp hundred-dollar bill to the cab driver, closes the door, and we stand there staring at each other, remaining silent for a long time.

  I want to say so much to him that I don’t know where to begin.

  “Not yet,” he simply states, linking his fingers with mine in order to lead me up the stairs and inside through the glass museum doors.

  My breath hitches as I take in the foyer of the place. I could get lost in here for days on end. The artwork is something I’ve always wanted to see. Each piece unique in its own way. Colorful. We wander down long corridors in utter silence, stopping every so often to admire a certain piece. It’s not until we come face-to-face with one particular painting that brings tears to my eyes for some unknown reason.