Frontline

by Alexandra Richland

  I exhale an uneven breath and face him.

  Trenton stands from the bed, moonlight and shadow embracing in a tumultuous tango across his skin as he drifts toward me. My body tingles and that familiar pull returns, as if every particle in the room has been summoned to close the gap between us.

  He stops before me, watching, waiting.

  I reach out and cradle his face in my hand.

  “Trenton . . .” My expression conveys the rest.

  With gut-wrenching swiftness, the man with the world at his feet falls to his knees at mine, naked and trembling. He peers up at me, eyes glistening with unshed tears—portals to a wounded and vulnerable soul.

  “I love you, Sara.”

  My lower lip quivers. “Trenton, don’t—”

  “I love you, and I’m sorry—you need to know that. I’m so sorry.” He bows his head, his shoulders hunched like a marionette without a master.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away from him, my hand reaching for the doorknob, something tangible to anchor myself to so I won’t sail back into his arms.

  This time there are no gentle touches to my leg, no begging me to stay.

  “I love you, Sara . . . I’m sorry . . . I love you . . .” Trenton repeats his mantra with agonizing resolve.

  The door closes behind me with a click that echoes so loudly throughout the cabin it’s as if I slammed it shut.

  I love you, Sara.

  I’m sorry.

  I love you . . .

  It’s those words that haunt me as I return to my room alone, those words that bring me down to the floor next to the bed and bend my legs toward my chest; those words that wrap around my trembling body as I lower my head to my knees and weep for what we both desire but know can never be.

  All thinking.

  All feeling.

  I love you, Trenton.

  I’m sorry.

  I love you.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Morning dawns gray and chilly. I’m grateful for the mountain of down blankets piled on top of me; a cozy nest instead of yesterday morning’s sauna. It takes a few seconds after my eyes open to remember where I am. The room looks altogether different in the bleak ashen light. Twitches between my legs serve as their own reminders of last night. I’m nervous, exhilarated, and heartsick, all at once.

  The cabin also feels different this morning, the prior tension replaced by an eerie quiet. Hallway hardwood cools my raw, blistered feet as I step softly toward Trenton’s room. The door stands open and I peek inside. His bed is neatly made, the blankets pulled taut over the pillows. The window is closed, the night tabletop void of any personal possessions.

  I walk down the stairs. The couches in the sitting room sport plumped-up pillows and spotless upholstery. The coffee table shines, clear of the papers and bottled water piled on it yesterday. Even the ashes from the fireplace are gone, the concrete interior swept clean.

  “Good morning, Sara.” Randall stands in the kitchenette across the room, dressed in a fresh plaid shirt and khaki trousers, a newsboy cap pulled over his silver hair. A mug of coffee steams in his hand.

  Though his smile looks earnest, I pull the folds of my robe tight across my chest and tighten the belt. I have no way of knowing how much noise I made with Trenton last night and suddenly feel very self-conscious.

  “Good morning.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Um, yes, please.”

  I enter the kitchenette and accept the mug from Randall. The bitter coffee burns my tongue, but it helps fight off the morning chill nipping at my bare feet and flowing up the bottom of the robe.

  “I’ll be driving you back to your apartment today.” Randall takes a sip of his coffee. “The threat has been neutralized and Trenton says it’s safe to take you home.”

  Yesterday, that news would’ve been cause to celebrate. Today, it’s a mere reminder of the single gal, Merrick-free life I thought I cherished.

  “Trenton left early this morning with Christopher and Sean,” Randall says, and I detect a tenor of regret in his voice.

  “Okay.” I figured as much, but hearing the truth is no less painful. I don’t blame Trenton, though. Everything that needed to be said was said last night. I made my choice and have to stand by it.

  “What do you mean by neutralized?”

  Randall maintains his smile, but his eyes retreat. “It means what was necessary was done.”

  Another sip of coffee serves as a welcome distraction to the sudden silence.

  “Would there happen to be any clothes around I could use?” I set my mug down on the counter. “I can’t enter my building in a bathrobe and bare feet.”

  “Yes, forgive me. I was rather distracted by matters yesterday.” Randall disappears down a small hallway behind the kitchenette and I hear a door open and shut again. He returns carrying a folded stack of navy blue sweat pants, a white cotton T-shirt, and a black fleece hoodie.

  When I take the clothes from Randall, I get a whiff of Trenton’s scent—it’s faint, but strong enough to make my heart skip a beat. I screw my eyes shut as the memories of last night shower me: skin on skin, hands caressing, Trenton on top of me, filling me . . .

  I love you, Sara.

  I’m sorry.

  I love you.

  “Sara, are you all right?” Randall asks.

  I force a smile beneath blank eyes. “Yes.”

  “There are sneakers in the front hall closet. How are your cuts?” He motions to my feet. “I never inquired as to whether my bandaging job was satisfactory. I would certainly appreciate the opinion of a nurse.”

  So it was Randall who bandaged me the other night. That means it also must’ve been Randall who undressed me. Now I wish I’d worn granny panties.

  “You did wonderfully. Would you like to take my shifts this week?”

  He chuckles. “I’m afraid bandaging feet is challenging enough for me. I’m in awe of what your profession is able to perform on a daily basis.”

  Yesterday, I took Randall’s kindness as nothing more than a requirement of his job and many of his comments came across as downright patronizing. This morning, though, with my mind clearer and the end of all of this in sight, they seem as sincere as the wide grin on his face.

  “Listen, Randall, about yesterday . . . that meltdown was not like me at all. I don’t know what came over me and I’m so sorry for the horrible way I treated you.”

  He nods. “I’m sorry for everything, too, Sara. I wish it could’ve gone differently. I know Trenton does as well.”

  The mention of Trenton’s name again stirs something inside me that feels like regret. I look around the main floor, trying to recall the hurt, the anger, the betrayal, but all I’m reminded of is the passion we shared in his bed.

  I give a slight shake of my head. “Thank you for the clothes, Randall. I’ll get changed, and then we can go.”

  He nods again. “As you wish, Sara.”

  I retreat to my room and dress in Trenton’s clothes. On the way out of the bedroom, I gather my purse. Inside, I find my cell phone. The battery is dead. The fact that my phone was hidden from me during my stay here makes me feel even more manipulated.

  I race down the stairs, out the front door and into the awaiting car, anxious to leave this place and everything that happened inside for good.

  The ride back to Brooklyn takes much less time than I thought it would. Oddly, the silence in the car feels relaxed, not awkward like the night Randall picked me up and drove me to Connecticut. It’s a shame that such a comfortable familiarity has arrived so late. Then again, the pace things moved since the moment I met Trenton was like experiencing an entire relationship on fast forward. I’m eager to get back to my apartment, close the door, and let my world slow down again.

  Bright beams of afternoon sunlight shine through wispy gray clouds and cast parts of the city skyline in multiple spotlights, others in dark shadow. Dry spots emerge on the roads and sidewalks. The damp air smells refreshing—the whole
city feels as if it’s been washed clean.

  Randall unbuckles his seatbelt after we pull up in front of my apartment building.

  I reach out and touch his arm. “Randall, please don’t. It’s not necessary.”

  “Orders, Sara.” He regards me fondly. “And what’s once more? For old time’s sake?”

  I’ve never met someone who pleads to do his duty, no matter how boring or repetitive it is.

  “All right. For old time’s sake.”

  Randall follows me into the lobby and agrees to use the elevator after I remind him of my injured feet. He moves ahead of me in the hallway and arrives at my apartment first, squeezing the doorknob and giving the door a push with his shoulder. It doesn’t move. He steps back with a satisfied nod to allow me to use my key.

  “I thought you said the threat has been neutralized,” I say.

  “There’s no harm in a few extra precautions, Sara.”

  The air in my apartment hangs thick and stale. I open the window to let some of the fresh spring breeze inside. Randall takes a quick peek around. Once he’s convinced there are no assassins hiding in my puny closet or bathroom vanity, he moves toward the door and tips his hat.

  “Good-bye, Sara. Best of luck to you.”

  The smile I give him is both grateful and sad. “Take care, Randall. Of yourself and of Trenton.”

  “It’s my job,” he says, and then pulls the door shut behind him.

  After the echo of his footsteps fades down the hall, I lock up, call in sick to work for the next few days, plug in my cell phone to charge it, and sink into my soft, familiar mattress. It’s the first time since I started at Manhattan General that I’ve taken time off. Deep down I know that working would help me get my mind off of Trenton, but after what I’ve been through, I need time to wallow in my devastation, to cry, and to mend. I can’t look after others properly if I’m not all right myself.

  As I wrap up in my sheets, I realize I was in my own bed less than forty-eight hours ago. It overwhelms me to think of all that’s happened since. My eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute. Trenton exists in the memory of a whirlwind rollercoaster ride I will never forget but feel relieved to be getting off of now.

  I abandoned my good sense to experience what it’s like to disconnect from my analytical life and live by feeling. The results blindsided me and sent me spinning recklessly into a world I could never understand or pretend to be a part of. More than that, it almost got me killed. The tradeoff is I’ll never experience anything close to last night ever again with anyone else. Of that I’m entirely certain. And despite the loneliness and disappointment that comes along with such a realization, I can live the rest of my life knowing I experienced all that my connection with Trenton had to offer for one glorious night. A lot of people aren’t so lucky.

  The five knocks on my front door sound frantic. My eyelids pop back open and I sit upright on my bed, hoping they were just an ultra-realistic facsimile of my weekend memories. But no one knocked that quickly on my bedroom door at the cabin.

  I slide off the mattress.

  The threat has been neutralized, Randall’s voice reminds me. What was necessary was done.

  It’s these words that temporarily distract me from asking who it is. I even unlatch the security chain and open the door entirely. Big mistake. A deafening wail pierces the stillness of my apartment and a pair of arms wraps around me, bulldozing me back into my apartment.

  My hands flail in the air, stiff and ready to slap whatever part of the invader I can reach. The backs of my knees collide with the couch and I collapse onto the cushions beneath the weight of a rose-perfumed assailant.

  An assassin wearing rose-scented perfume?

  Denim straddles me on the couch, her hands on my shoulders, her makeup-caked face smiling down on mine.

  “You’re home!” She shrieks the words. “You crazy sex fiend! Did you spend the whole weekend fucking your brains out?”

  I squint at her. “Huh?”

  Kelly stands beside the couch with her hands on her hips. Her expression is the exact opposite of Denim’s. “Where the hell have you been, Sara? And how could you not tell me you were seeing Merrick again?”

  I push Denim off of me. She topples over the side of the couch onto the parquet floor. Her smile disappears behind crimpy strands of hair that fly from behind her ears and settle over her face.

  She rights herself and frowns. “What was that for, Sara?”

  “You guys scared the fuck out of me!”

  “You scared us, too.” Denim pushes the hair out of her eyes. “You were supposed to be home Saturday night—Sunday afternoon at the latest if things went totally perfect.”

  “We called your cell phone a gazillion times and left messages until your mailbox was full.” Kelly’s scowl deepens. “If you hadn’t returned by tonight, we were going to call the police.”

  “Things went far from perfect.” My voice shakes despite my efforts.

  “Oh no, what happened?” Denim settles onto the couch beside me.

  Kelly remains standing, her eyes narrowed on me like she’s about to begin an interrogation.

  “All I can say is Trenton and I are done.”

  “We’ve heard that line before.”

  My lower lip trembles. “This time it’s for real.”

  “Did something happen at the charity benefit?” Denim asks.

  Being aloof and dodging questions are Trenton’s tactics. If I’m ever going to put down roots here and develop strong friendships, I must open up. Kelly and Denim have been nothing but welcoming and helpful to me since I arrived, but above all, truthful. I owe them the same.

  I take a deep breath and recount the whole story. Denim sits wide-eyed beside me, covering her mouth with her hand when I relate the details of the shooting and the chase through the woods. Kelly sits on the edge of my bed, her stone-faced expression softening only slightly from time to time to show her surprise. I keep the details of last night sparse, and thankfully, they seem satisfied with what little I offer.

  It takes a few moments for anyone to speak when I finish. Denim squeezes my knee. Kelly moves from the bed and sits down on my other side. I shrink away, expecting a scolding or hard smack across the head for being so stupid. Instead, she wraps her arms around me.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay, Sara.”

  Denim joins in our hug.

  “I’m such a fool.” Tears spill from my eyes. “Even after everything he’s done to me—everything that’s happened—I can’t stop thinking about him.”

  “You’re compassionate and trusting. Merrick took advantage of that,” Kelly says. “That doesn’t make you a fool. It makes you human. Most importantly, it makes him an asshole. You’re not to blame. He is.”

  I sniffle. “There were so many warning signs and I kept giving him more chances. I should’ve confronted him about Kedrov right away. I should’ve—”

  “Trenton’s a master manipulator, a professional,” Denim says, and I know it’s supposed to comfort me but it doesn’t. “Anyone would’ve fallen for his BS.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to call the police?” Kelly asks.

  I shake my head. “I know it’s the logical thing to do, but what am I supposed to tell them? Trenton kept me in the dark about everything. All I want to do is forget what happened and move forward with my life.”

  Kelly nods. “All right. We can always talk about it later when you’re feeling better.”

  “Thank you both for listening,” I say.

  “So I guess this means a timeout from New York’s dating scene.” A hint of a smile plays on Kelly’s lips.

  I giggle through my tears. “Permanent timeout.”

  Denim pulls a tissue from the box next to the couch and hands it to me. I dab it beneath my eyes and wipe my nose.

  “No, Sara,” Denim says. “There’s someone out there who’s perfect for you. Just like there’s someone perfect waiting for me and for Kelly. We’ll find them.”r />
  Kelly rolls her eyes. “Excuse Denim. She’s on a permanent timeout from the real world.”

  “Come on, don’t be so cynical.” Denim’s smile widens. “Sara, you’re here, you’re alive. And best of all, you’re wiser. Next time will be easy compared to what you just went through.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t even think about a next time right now. I just want things to go back to normal. I want to rewind the last ten days and erase everything.”

  “I hate to say this, Sara, but Denim is right,” Kelly says. “It sounds crazy, but you’ve learned something really important about life in New York. You knew Merrick was bad news right from the get-go. I know that can be a total turn-on, but you’re a smart girl and you have to trust your instincts.”

  Denim nods. “And trust your friends.”

  I hold back from reminding Denim that on Saturday she was fully supportive of me seeing Trenton again.

  Kelly stands and offers her hand. I take it and she pulls me to my feet.

  “Let’s go out and have an early dinner,” she says.

  I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of Trenton’s hoodie. “I’d just like to stay in, if you don’t mind.”

  Kelly tugs on my arm. “No way. I will not allow you to waste away in this apartment. It’s time to toast to a new life without men.”

  Denim gasps. “Only temporarily, though, right?”

  Kelly rolls her eyes again.

  I sigh. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Kelly looks me up and down. “Are you gonna ditch the soccer mom duds first?”

  I remove the hoodie and toss it on the coffee table. Getting rid of Trenton’s clothes is the final step in purging him from my life for good.

  “Let’s stop by a Salvation Army on the way and make a donation,” I say.

  Kelly and Denim nod.

  I pull my hair back into a ponytail and decide on a makeup-free look after changing into a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, and sneakers.

  Kelly and Denim smile as I unplug my cell phone from the wall, pluck my handbag and keys from the coffee table, and stride across the room with the extra confidence I muster to mask my underlying sorrow.

  Our girl-power momentum stalls as soon as knocks sound from the other side of the door, loud and insistent, hard enough to shake the door to its hinges.