Open Heart

by Marysol James

  Vicky saw her face. “OK, whoa. What was that?”

  “What?”

  “That – that thought you just had. What’s going on?”

  “Uh. Well, last night? When I thought I’d be – ending it all tonight? I… ummm. I spent the night with a man.”

  Vicky gaped at her. “You what now?”

  “Yeah. I invited Eric over for dinner, with the full intention of seducing him. I just wanted one last night with a man. I needed that physical contact.”

  “OK, hold up. Who’s Eric?”

  “The guy in the cabin across the way.”

  “The dark-haired guy with the fantastic body?”

  Annabeth thought of his arms and chest and cock and blushed more. She nodded.

  “So, wait,” Vicky said. “That’s what you did with what you thought was your last full night on earth? You – you climbed in to a hot man’s bed and had hours and hours of wild sex?”

  “Well. It was my bed, actually.”

  “Even better. That way, you don’t have to walk too far to get to your lipstick, right?”

  They looked at each other and burst in to laughter.

  “So,” Vicky said. “Are you planning to do something more about Eric?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe tell him the truth? Give him a chance to be something more than just a one-night-stand?”

  “The deal was just one night.”

  Vicky shrugged. “One night can mean a lot. One night can change everything.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “What about tonight?”

  Annabeth looked puzzled. “What about it?”

  “Well, you spent a year planning this, right? Saving the pills, thinking about the wine, doing research about how to get the job done right. And then tonight you just… changed your mind. A year of planning, gone, just like that.”

  Annabeth thought about that. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess…”

  “Listen, sweetie. You know that you need to talk to a professional about this, right?”

  “I know… I should have a long time ago.”

  “I go twice a week to see my therapist, Francine Cabott. If you want, I can have her come here tomorrow and talk to you.”

  “Do you think she would?”

  “Yes. I also think you should stay right here at the ranch. Be honest and talk to us. Let us be here for you.”

  Annabeth’s eyes filled with tears. “Everyone is going to be so, so angry with me.”

  “Maybe at first. You have to let them be shocked and hurt, you know… it’s going to scare them that you were planning all of this right in front of us and nobody stopped you. They’re going to be just at angry at themselves as they are at you, I promise you. But then, they’ll help. These are good people – they’ll do whatever you need.”

  “You think so?”

  There was a knock at the door then and Annabeth jumped.

  Vicky stood up. “It’s OK. It’s probably Phil.”

  She opened the door and sure enough, Phil stood there. He was anxious and worried and walked in to the room slowly.

  “Annabeth,” he said. “You OK, hon?”

  “Yes. Well, no. But I will be.”

  He set down Vicky’s overnight bag and took Annabeth in his arms. “Come here. You scared us.”

  She closed her eyes and held on to him. Being pressed up against his strong chest reminded her of another man’s body and she flushed. God, she wanted Eric to be the one holding her, comforting her, making her feel safe again.

  Phil set her away from him. “What do you need me to do?”

  Annabeth looked in to his green eyes, so warm and kind. No judgment, no anger.

  “I – I’d like to ask you to forgive me.”

  “For what?”

  She swallowed. “I left a note with Maria at the office tonight and asked her to put it in your personal box… telling you what I’d done, and asking you to please alert the authorities. I left one for Jake, too.”

  Vicky gasped.

  “I just – I didn’t want my body to be found by a cleaning lady, or Maria, or Julie. I thought – I thought that you and Jake were the best people. You’re both so strong and steady and I thought… of everyone here, you two could handle it best.”

  Phil was very still.

  “I’m sorry, Phil. I know what I was asking was too much. It was unfair and horrible.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.”

  She sighed. “God, I just don’t know what I was thinking anymore… all I can say is that at the time, it made perfect sense. It was logical.”

  “I know,” Vicky said. “Sometimes, it’s all you can see.”

  “But not now,” Phil said. “Right? Now you see another way?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK.” He turned to Vicky. “I called Mattie and she took Sonia from the stables up to her place. I’ll go get her now, grab her bed things and take her back to my place for the night. You’ll be OK here?”

  “Of course.” Vicky smiled. “Annabeth and I are going to drink wine and talk all night.”

  “Alright, ladies.” Phil was still watching Annabeth carefully. “Have a good night now.” His eyes met Vicky’s. “You need anything, you call.”

  “OK.”

  He kissed Vicky. “I love you, babe.”

  “You too.”

  He hugged Annabeth again. “We’re going to be here for you, hon. I swear it.”

  She held on to him, relieved and amazed at his grace and forgiveness. “Thanks, Phil.”

  Maybe I can tell Eric; maybe forgiveness and understanding aren’t totally off the table after all.

  Chapter Eight

  “Hey, Eric. When are you coming home?”

  Eric sighed. He’d been dreading talking to Ian and had avoided his calls for the whole day since he'd left Annabeth's place. After his amazing and passionate night with her, he hadn’t wanted anyone to burst the bubble. But he had to talk to Ian at some point, he knew.

  “The day after tomorrow, Ian.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Totally. Annabeth is leaving tomorrow morning, so I’ll have no reason to stick around. I’ll take an extra day to get myself together and then I’ll fly home.”

  “Why?”

  “Why will I fly home?”

  “No. Why will you take an extra day to get yourself together?”

  Shit. I really need to remember to watch my words around my brother the cop.

  “No reason,” Eric said. “Just a slip of the tongue.”

  “Was that the only slip you made out there, little bro? Or did your tongue slip somewhere else too?”

  Eric flashed back to being buried between Annabeth’s legs, his tongue deep in her hot centre, her hands gripping the sheets as she writhed and moaned. He wanted to be back there right now, holding her body down as she came hard enough to almost fly off the bed.

  “What the hell, Ian?”

  “No. No way you turn this back on me, man. Did something happen between the two of you when you went over for dinner last night?”

  Eric was silent.

  “Oh, fuck.” Ian sat down. “Fuck, man. Really?”

  “I – I didn’t plan it. I just – she was crying and she needed me to stay. It just happened.”

  “If she was upset, you call a friend of hers to talk her down. You don’t have sex with her.”

  “It was just one night.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Eric. You don’t do one-night-stands. You never have. And now you honestly expect me to believe that you can casually fuck that woman – that woman, of all women – and just be able to walk away like nothing happened?”

  “No. Of course not. But I have to let her go, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have no choice here. I know that.”

  “No.”

  “So. I’ll let her go.”

  Ian heard the pain in his
brother’s voice. “I’m sorry, Eric.”

  “It’ll be OK.” Eric tried to sound confident. “It was just a fling.”

  “Eric,” Ian said. “There is not one single fucking thing ‘just’ about any of this. You get your ass home as soon as you can.”

  “I will.” Eric sighed. “I will.”

  **

  The next evening, Annabeth was looking out her window, thinking about her talk with Francine.

  Annabeth had had more than one experience with therapists over the previous ten years. Her mother had insisted that she go and see one when she was first diagnosed with cancer, but it had just seemed so self-indulgent. After all, she was fighting, wasn’t she? Her treatment was going well, the disease was backing off. So, if she was generally doing well – no matter how hard it was to keep positive – why sit around and whine?

  She had been to about a dozen visits and then she stopped. Cam was in her life by then and he was all the support she needed. His love and belief was more healing than sitting in a room and blathering to a man who charged two hundred dollars an hour.

  After Cam died, she had taken the initiative and gone to a therapist herself. Maybe it even helped, for a while. But after a year or so, Annabeth started to feel like it was ‘time’ to get on with things. At the time, it looked like progress, like coping and healing and moving on. Now, she wasn’t so sure that’s what it was at all. Now, she thought it was avoidance. Denial.

  Francine was smart, Annabeth knew, and she was compassionate. She had sat quietly on the sofa and just listened while Annabeth told her everything. It had been like setting down a heavy burden… she felt airy and positive. She and Francine agreed to meet every day for the next five days, and Francine was going to help her find a therapist in Denver. For the first time in years, she felt hopeful.

  Just then, Annabeth spotted Eric emerge from his cabin.

  She looked at him, taking in his face and body, the way he moved. She remembered how it had felt to be close to him, for him to be inside her.

  Maybe I can do this again. Maybe I don’t have to die alone, pining away forever for Cam. Maybe… maybe it’s really OK to care about someone else.

  Eric looked up and saw her. He smiled and waved at her. She opened the front door and he walked over.

  “Well, hey, gorgeous,” he said. “I thought you were leaving first thing this morning. You leaving now instead?”

  “Oh. Ummm. No, actually, there’s been a change of plan.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be staying now, for another five days.”

  Eric stared down at her. An odd combination of elation and panic moved through him. “Really?”

  “Yes. And – I was wondering if we could talk?”

  “Sure.”

  “Maybe you can come over for a drink in an hour?”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  **

  Annabeth’s heart was pounding so loud, she was sure he could hear it.

  How do I explain this? God, I barely know the guy… maybe I shouldn’t say anything to him at all? Just leave it?

  Eric looked at her sitting bolt upright on the sofa. She looked nervous and scared.

  “What’s going on, sweetheart? Are you OK?”

  She set her cup of tea on the table. “No. No, I’m not.”

  “OK. What can I do?”

  Annabeth took a deep breath and dove in.

  “I was going to kill myself last night.”

  Eric went very still, his beer pausing halfway to his lips. He felt like someone had just punched him in the head. Everything was spinning.

  “I had everything ready, you know,” she said. “I sent my final revisions to my agent, I had the pills, I had the wine. I dropped a note in Phil’s and Jake’s boxes, to make sure that they found me, not Julie or the cleaning lady. I gave away some presents to people I care about. Everything was… perfect.” She swallowed. “And then I just couldn’t go through with it.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “Julie and Jake’s wedding. Wanting to go to Vicky and Phil’s housewarming party.” She met his eyes. “Wanting to feel a man’s arms around me just once more… to make love one more time.”

  Eric was silent.

  “Vicky figured it out and she came dashing over here to stop me. But I’d already made up my mind to – to live.”

  “How did she know?”

  “She knows about wanting to just give up… about wanting things to end.”

  “I think lots of people do, Annabeth.”

  “You’re right. But when you’re in it, when you’re in the pain… you forget that. You just feel so… alone.”

  “But you’re not alone. You have people who care about you, who’d help if you just asked.”

  “I know.”

  His dark eyes held hers. “Including me.”

  She held her breath as he walked over to her, sat on the sofa. He reached for her and she moved in to his arms, almost collapsed in to them, desperate to feel him against her.

  Annabeth held his upper arms and laid her head on his chest. It all felt wrong, somehow. He was tense and holding himself away from her. His words and hands were comforting and gentle; his body was stiff and straight.

  “Eric?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you angry at me?” she said.

  He stroked her hair slowly and thought about lying to her. He decided to tell the truth. “Yeah. I think I am.”

  It was like a kick to her stomach. “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled back and looked at her face. He wiped her tears away with his thumb. “No. No apologies, OK?”

  “I was selfish and stupid… I just – I thought about me.”

  “Shhh. Don’t talk like that.” He spoke automatically.

  She looked uncertainly in to his dark eyes. They were hard and flat. “What are you thinking right now?”

  “I don’t think now’s the time, Annabeth.”

  “Please?”

  He sighed. “OK. If you’re sure.”

  I’m not. “I am.”

  OK, Neilson. Take it easy, now.

  “OK. Here’s what I really don’t understand, Annabeth: you beat cancer. You lived through that hell and you were given a second chance that lots of people don’t get. Why would you squander it?”

  She blinked, astonished.

  To his complete surprise and despite his desire to be gentle, rage was slowly building up in his chest, at her and at himself and he couldn’t seem to control his words. Jesus Christ, I was with her the night before she planned to kill herself, and I had no fucking clue! How did I miss all the signs? How much of this could I have seen and stopped? His fear at what almost happened made him cruel.

  “You didn’t think about that, huh?” he said. “It never occurred to you that the world is full of people in hospitals, praying and begging and holding on for a few more days of life, and you were just spitting in all their faces?”

  “Eric…”

  “I lay in a bed for six weeks, Annabeth, thinking I was going to die. I’d never – never – treat my second chance so cheap. I can’t believe you did that.”

  “I didn’t – I couldn’t…”

  “You never got it, did you?” Eric said. “That your life was already a gift? That you helped people with your words about your own grief? Did you write all that stuff knowing it was lies? Did you get your book deals and just crank out shit that sold? Just spouted platitudes and fiction, all for a few bucks?”

  She jerked away from him and stood up, angry.

  “Screw you, Eric.”

  He stood up too.

  “Oh, that’s your response, is it? How about you answer the question instead? All that stuff you wrote – the blog, the books – was it all bullshit?”

  “No. Yes. I – I don’t know.”

  “It was or it wasn’t, Annabeth. Which was it?”

  She stared up at him, unable to believe that he was attack
ing her right after she had confided in him, trusted him. This was not the response she’d expected from the man who had kissed her and stroked her, who had plunged inside of her until she came. She opened her mouth to shout at him but a sob came out instead. Then another.

  Immediately, Eric felt guilty and contrite. He reached for her. “Annabeth…”

  She turned from him. “Don’t. Just get out.”

  “No, not yet, OK? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…”

  She felt his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him again. She resisted, but her strength was nothing compared to his.

  “Baby, I’m sorry. I – I’m more angry at myself than at you, and it came out all wrong. Are you OK?”

  She shook her head.

  “Let’s sit down again. Alright? We’ll talk.”

  He wasn’t at all surprised when she started to cry, in earnest this time. He closed his eyes and cursed his fucking big mouth.

  “Come here, angel. Come on, now. I’ve got you.”

  His arms around her were strong and safe and exactly what she needed at that moment. She gave up trying to get away and pressed her face in to his chest, her tears soaking the front of his t-shirt. His hands in her hair were gentle and soothing, he whispered that she was OK now, that he wasn’t going to let her go.

  She stayed there until she could feel her chest open up again and her breath came out more easily. She moved away and saw the tormented look on his face.

  “Eric, don’t look like that.”

  “I’m sorry. What I said was…”

  “Right. You were right.”

  “No. I mean, yes, I probably was, but I could have been more sensitive. What I said was all about me, and my own near-death. I made it personal and I shouldn’t have done that. You trusted me and I punished you for that.” He touched her cheek. “Also, if I’m being totally honest, I’m furious at myself. I was here with you – I made love to you for hours, for Christ’s sake – and I had no idea. I feel like… I should have known something. I should have asked more questions, stopped you from getting that far.”

  “No. It’s not your fault.”

  “OK, maybe not. But I have no right to be angry at you for keeping something so big from me. I mean, we've only known each other a few days, and it was all meant to be casual and for just one night, anyway.”