When Opposites Collide Boxset

by Kathy Coopmans

  I stand as a fraud as we‘re escorted through a door. The room is frigid and chilly. Eden nods her head up and down, letting the mortician and detective know it’s her sister. I can’t fucking look. I feel sick to my stomach.

  Her knees go first, then her spine collapses. I scoop her up in my arms, hauling ass out of that place. Heading in the direction of my bike. I tell the detective yelling at me that he needs to speak to her to fuck off in much nicer terms.

  I try sitting her on my bike; she won’t let go of me. Her sobbing frame is clinging to my shirt. I jostle her around until I’m able to dig my cell phone out of my back pocket. Speed dialing number three.

  “Katch.”

  “Brick? What the hell is going on? You alright?” His woman’s laughter drifts in from the background. Fuck no, I’m not.

  “I need you, man.”

  “When and where?” I end the call relaying all the pertinent information without trying to freak her out. If I frighten this fragile woman any more than she already is, she’ll be gripping hold of me as if I’m her lifeline to the silent killer who solves all problems. Don’t worry, sweetheart; I called the silent killer. He will find Wilder and teach that motherfucker Ricky a lesson. A slow, tortured death.

  “Who was that?” It’s barely a whisper.

  “Nobody,” I growl, setting her down on her legs.

  “What’s your name?” she asks.

  I debate giving her my birth name or the name society has gifted me. The sad reality is, Saxon is dead. He’d never want to be associated with Brick.

  “What’s your name?” she asks again.

  “Brick. My name is Brick.” I push the helmet her way. “I’m not a good guy.”

  I hope my final words scare her, but Eden shocks the hell out of me when she leans forward on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek.

  “I don’t believe that. Thank you, Brick. Now, take me home.”

  Her tears never stop on the drive to her place.

  This woman has a long road in front of her. The pit in my stomach tells me it ain’t gonna be a smooth ride.

  56

  Eden

  It’s been two weeks since I buried my sister. Two weeks of doing nothing but living in hell. I’m so ashamed of myself. So bitter and scared. I can barely remember the night she died when I’m awake, and yet the minute I close my eyes, it’s all there to remind me. She’s dead. Killed by a blunt force object to the back of her head. That’s not even the worst part. Well, her death is the worst part, but what I’m holding in my hand, what I’m about ready to toss into the bottom of my pool in my home in Beverly Hills is what has me out here at three o'clock in the morning wanting to claw my eyeballs out or jump in my pool and sink to the bottom myself.

  Her autopsy report is in my shaky hands. Her name stamped in black and white.

  Ricky beat her so bad before he killed her that over half of her body was covered in bruises. Handprints around her neck. Claw marks down her arms. My stomach fights against itself not to throw up.

  “Zoe. Why didn’t you let me help you? Why didn’t I do more?” I scream, not giving a shit if I wake up my snobby neighbors. The main reason I bought this place a few years ago was because I wanted a safe place for Wilder to live. The school district is top notch, and the backyard was already set up with a swing set, a gym, a sandbox, and a pool for children. I bought it for her. For Wilder.

  And now, here I sit at the bottom of the slide my cute little nephew loved to play on with so much guilt coursing through me that I’m drowning in it. The beautiful moment when we set Zoe free does nothing to ease the pain. She won’t be free until I get her son back.

  It’s a living nightmare. Funny how I always thought when someone used that analogy, they were dramatic. But with each step I take, my foot sinks into the sand and my heart cracks a little more. I feel every ounce of the nightmare I’m living in the center of my chest. The beautiful urn clutched between my hands resembles everything Eden loved. Her favorite color a deep plum with intricate silver designs covering every inch of it. She was a wild soul, just like the pattern. Just like our parents. Now, she’s being held by them.

  “Eden.” Zeke walks up to me. He slips his hand into his pockets. I know it’s because he’s not sure what to do with me. The poor man has been there since my world fell apart. I haven’t been the most pleasant person. Not that I’m rude. I just don’t know what to say when he calls or stops by. The man is persistent to say the least.

  I nod biting back the tears threatening to spill over. They don’t stop, and I have a feeling they never will. Amelia walks up behind Zeke with a baby carrier strapped to her chest. Their little miracle hiding out of sight swaddled tightly to her mom’s chest. I’m thankful and jealous. I look up, and that’s when I see him. The man who held me through the darkest part of my life. I should thank him. I simply can’t speak right now, or I’ll lose it. My words need to be saved for my sister.

  I offer up a weak smile to everyone. Look away and focus on each footstep toward the ocean. Zoe deserves to be free from the bonds of life. She fought so long for it; even when we were kids, she never once gave up. Not until it was too late. We all stop at the shore. I don’t flinch when the tide rolls up over my toes. The water is freezing, but I really don’t care.

  Amelia’s tears have begun rolling down her face. She clears her throat, begins speaking, and I choke up. She loved Zoe; that’s clear. It hurts too much to focus on her words or watch her tears flow. I flip my gaze out to the enormous body of water that will soon be Zoe’s resting place.

  Zeke says a few words as well. He’s able to keep his emotions in check, and I know it’s because he’s his wife’s rock. When the silence sets back in, I peer over at the small crowd. Saxon is staring out into the ocean just like I was. He never offers to speak.

  Zeke told me his brother's real name is Saxon. I love it. To me, it fits him.

  “Zoe.” Her name catches in my throat. “I love you. I’ll always love you. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be responsible for your funeral and burial arrangements. It’s always been the two of us against the world. We had so many years to conquer. Adventures to go on; and our bucket list. It was a small one-bucket list. Tattoos, falling madly in love, and getting married.”

  The sobs hit me hard, threatening to knock me to the ground. A large palm reaches into mine, then the scent of smoke, leather, and all man assaults me. I don’t have to look up to see who it is. He grips my hand in his, offering a silent promise of comfort.

  “It’s only been four days since I last talked to you, but it feels like an eternity. Zoe, I couldn’t save you. I’ll love you forever, my beautiful, sweet girl; you deserve to be set free.”

  I drop Saxon’s hand and twist the top of the urn, taking a step into the ocean.

  “Your soul is free, and the world is yours. I love you.” I scatter her ashes with a heavy heart.

  “I will bring Wilder home,” I whisper to myself. “He will know how much you loved him.”

  We all stand united for long moments before making our way back up the beach. Zeke clears his throat, tugging at his collar. I cringe knowing I won’t like what’s coming next. They’re all going to leave. I’ll be alone. I hate feeling this way. Guilty and lonely.

  “Eden, thank you for letting us join you. We loved Zoe,” Amelia says.

  Zeke places his arms around Amelia, peeks down at little baby Clara who hasn’t made a squeak.

  “I hate to do this today. But I need to know something,” Saxon asks.

  I nod.

  “Does Ricky have any family he may have run to? Do they know what happened?”

  I clear my throat, not finding this topic easy to talk about. I need Wilder back. That’s where I draw my strength from.

  “The only thing we know is, he was raised by a single mother. He ran away at seventeen. He hated his mother. The poor lady.” I shudder.

  “So, his mom didn’t know about Wilder or Zoe.”

  “No.” I s
hake my head adamantly. “Not that we know of. Ricky had no friends or family around here. He kept to himself. I’m sorry. I have nothing more to give you.”

  I’m unable to finish the rest because instead of them leaving me, I walk away first.

  I tuck the papers back into the folder knowing I won’t be throwing them away. I grab my empty glass of wine, then scoop up a handful of sand and let it slip through my fingers.

  “This is how easily you slipped away from me, Zoe. I hope you’re resting in peace now.” She isn’t. I don’t know what to do, where to go, or what to say to anyone anymore. All I know is, I can’t continue sitting around here doing nothing. I need to find that little boy. Teach him how to grow up to be a man and not some brutal murderer.

  I make my way into the house, lock up the file in my safe, and take a look around until my eyes land on the boxes of toys in the corner of my living room.

  “I’m going to do everything I can to find you, Wilder. I’ll hire the best private detectives to hunt your father down if I have to. You belong with me.” I mean it, too. Maybe I should call Zeke and poke around to see if that big, burly man of a brother could be of any help. He did say something along the lines of not being good. There’s was something about his presence both times I’ve seen him that screamed he could get the job done, too. I know he’s been out there looking or he wouldn’t have asked about Ricky’s mom. And the police; they have nothing either. It’s as if he took Wilder and vanished.

  “Brick. Saxon.” I let both of his names roll off my tongue. That man is incredibly handsome. I actually smile. The memory I do have of him is far from bad. In fact, it’s one of the things I do remember very well.

  He’s a wall of a man with muscles screaming out of every inch of the white T-shirt that was hugging his broad chest. Built like a heavy Brick. His name is quite fitting.

  His chest is so big it demands attention. His arms are ribbed with thick, muscular veins. His face is deliciously handsome. Eyes nearly as dark as his hair. Yup, I definitely remember.

  “God, I’m losing my mind. The man is an animal. I’m sure of it. So unlike me, it’s ridiculous.” I’ll more than likely never see him again. If he does find out anything, I’m sure he’ll tell Zeke. The guy has no reason to come see me. It’s not like we run around in the same circles. I don’t have a circle at all. In fact, I’m more like a square. I have very few friends, no family left. I’m basically pathetic.

  “Go to bed, Eden,” I say, sauntering down the hall to my bedroom. I don’t bother to strip out of my clothes or pull the blinds shut. I fall face first, grab my nephew’s blanket he can’t sleep without, and curl up in a ball. Another night of crying myself to sleep.

  “Ugh. Why does a person’s phone ring at the wrong time?” I wipe the sleep from my eyes. For one split second, I think about not answering it. Then reach for it on the nightstand thinking maybe it will be the police. I answer without checking.

  “Hello.” I clear my raspy voice.

  “Eden.” I shouldn’t have answered. I’ve been avoiding this call for two reasons. One, she just had a baby. Two, Amelia Hartley was my sister’s best friend. I really haven’t talked to her outside of the funeral. I know what she wants without her even asking.

  “Hello, Amelia. How are you doing? Is everything going alright?” I know it is. I’ve talked to Zeke several times on the phone. I’ve also stayed in contact with both of my associates at our practice. My patients are all doing wonderfully. Some of them have sent flowers to the office.

  However, I know Zeke is worried about his wife, me, and of course, his newborn baby. The man is like a smothering older brother. He calls all the time to check on me now that we don't see each other at work or in my office. My guess is he put her up to this to try and help us both.

  The night this woman gave birth to her daughter was a night of hell for her. Such a strong person. So much stronger than I seem to be.

  “If you’re talking about Clara, then yes, she’s perfect. I’m having a hard time with the death of Zoe. I thought maybe we could talk.” There’s some rustling and soft baby cries on the other end. “Jesus, I’m sorry, that came out so brutal, but I really need a friend right now. Zoe was everything to me. She saved my life.”

  Oh, God. I don’t know if I’m ready yet.

  “I’d like that,” I find myself saying.

  My brain freezes on the first visit I had with Amelia. It all played out in a sick and brutal scene. I learned how close she and Zoe were. She told me all about the way Zoe helped save her life. It was also the hardest pill to swallow knowing that Zoe was gripping onto one ounce of reality hiding Ricky away from them. So, see, I know everything already. Why do I need to go see her?

  Amelia and her job were Zoe’s safe haven. I wasn’t a part of that. I get what Amelia’s doing, I really do. She misses my sister. So do I. Our talking is not going to help ease the pain.

  Amelia’s stronger than she used to be. She’s come so far. The young new mother was once a victim to the cruel world of drugs. I know for a fact her love for Zeke and their daughter is stronger than what she had for her addiction. I’m sure it’s not easy to remain sober.

  “Give me a few hours, and I’ll drive over. Can you text me your address?”

  “Of course, thank you.”

  I make a mental note of the address the minute her text comes through. I know the area very well. Thank God, I only had one glass of wine today. I’ve found myself drowning in bottles of wine night after night. The heartache dulls some. But it never leaves. I force myself to the bathroom not bothering to turn on the hot water. Why should I be able to enjoy the warmth of life when I couldn’t save my own sister?

  The ice-cold water slices at my skin, forcing me to feel everything. It takes all my effort and energy to run a handful of shampoo and conditioner through my hair and wash my body. That’s it. I’m done. No makeup. No drying my hair. Nothing.

  The drive blurs by, and before I know it, I’m at their house. I leave my purse and phone in my car. Ironic at best seeing that I’ve been attached to those two items the past few years. It was all about my career, and more importantly, saving Zoe. I failed.

  God, give me the strength to be able to do this. I’m tired of falling apart.

  Standing up, I’m forced to tug up my yoga pants to only have them drop right back down. I fold over the waistband a few times to keep them in place. My hoodie is swallowing up my entire body. It’s always been an oversized, worn hoodie and one of my favorites, but now it’s way too big. I’ve lost weight. Eating is not high on my priority list these days.

  I’m still staring down at my hot pink chipped toenails peeking through my flip-flops when I hear my name being called out. Looking up, I see Amelia has her sweet miracle cradled to her chest and is waving at me. Her eyes are sad yet hold a hopeful glimmer. She’s a warrior.

  I straighten my spine and do my best show of holding my head high when all I want to do is curl up and waste away. Wilder. It’s that little boy who has me putting one foot in front of the other. He needs me, and I have to get to him.

  “Eden.” Amelia steps down to the last step. “Thank you so much for coming over.”

  “Amelia, what are you doing?” An exasperated Zeke joins us on the steps. “You need to be sleeping if Clara is. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  “Stop.” She places a palm on her husband’s chest. “I’m fine.”

  She rolls her eyes then shoots me a warm smile. Even in the darkest of times, Zeke’s overbearing nature makes me smile. I feel a blossom of warmth grow in my chest. I would love to have a man love me the way he does her. To say the man has been intense since their first doctor’s visit would be an understatement.

  “Come in.” Amelia reaches for my arm. “Zeke is grilling some steaks.”

  “I am,” he adds. “And my wife is supposed to be napping.”

  She sends him a death glare, but he doesn’t back down. He stands there challenging her, and the sparky little thin
g accepts. “Zeke, you tell me when to sleep, pee, and poop. I know you’re just helping, but I’m damn near ready to karate chop your balls.”

  “It will be your loss if you do, babe. You might want to remember that when you’re ready to have sex.” He grabs her ass, gives it a little swat. They are perfect for one another.

  “Give me Clara. I’ll lay her down, so you two can talk.”

  Amelia hands over the little bundle with care and precision, never letting go of her until she’s firmly pressed into Zeke’s chest.

  “Go have a seat in the living room. I’ll holler when dinner is ready.”

  “I’ll sit wherever the hell I want.”

  Zeke’s a persistent man, but also a very smart one. He bites his bottom lip and then winks at his wife. Once he’s gone, Amelia loops her arm around mine, letting out a growl.

  “I love him; I swear I love that man with everything I have, but he’s just so damn frustrating at times.”

  We walk through their living room, bypassing their couch. Amelia is determined to sit wherever the hell she wants to. It’s comical, really. Under normal circumstances, I would laugh. There isn’t a damn thing normal about any of this.

  We end up out on their back patio sitting across from one another on loungers covered in striped pillows.

  “It’s the doctor in him,” I blurt out. “It’s what we do.”

  The words are bitter on my tongue as they glide out. I’m a doctor, but I wasn’t able to save my sister. How ironic.

  “I know.” Amelia rearranges her messy bun on the top of her head. “I keep thinking he’ll relax, but he hasn’t. I love him for that. Before Zeke, I never had anyone who took care of me, and now I have it all.”

  I nod. I’m so not ready for where this conversation is heading. I have no words left inside of me, nor any energy.

  “I miss her so much, Eden.” Amelia’s words are barely a whisper. I feel them drifting away in the California breeze.