Torrid Affair

by Callie Anderson

  I clutched my fingers to get them to stop shaking, but it was useless.

  “Hey, Aunt B.” He smiled at me, but I could barely smile back. “I passed my math test,” he announced proudly.

  “Th-That’s great, buddy.” My voice was weak. I glanced over at Nate, but his attention was focused on my cheek, so I turned my head.

  Nate cleared his throat. “Hey, sport, Aunt Brie and I need to chat. We’ll be in my office if you need me.” Caleb nodded, and I followed behind Nate, my hands continuing to shake.

  Nate opened his office door and invited me in, watching my every move. His scent wafted through the small room as I inhaled. I felt at home. Tears began to pool in my eyes. Everything was red: the walls, the accent furniture, the little trinkets scattered around. He’d never forgotten about us.

  Nate left the door cracked and spun to face me. “What’s the matter?” He searched my eyes for answers. “What happened to your face?” He closed the space between us and brushed his fingertips across my cheek.

  “That’s irrelevant.” I pushed his hand away. “We need to talk.”

  He cocked his head to the side, his brows pinched. “Brie, you’re scaring me.”

  I shook my head and swallowed. “I asked Julian for a divorce,” I blurted. Instantly, the weight lifted off my shoulders. My heart raced as I peered up at Nate. He blinked, staring at me as if he was processing my words.

  “I choose you. I want a life with you. Delaney is trying to trap you with another b—”

  Nate’s mouth crashed onto mine, and my words were left unsaid. He embraced me, bringing me flush to his warm, hard body. Yearning for this moment, I kissed him back with fervor and desperation. My lips tangled with his until we were both breathless.

  “I’ll leave her,” Nate said. His mouth hovered over mine. “I want you for me, Brielle,” he whispered against my lips.

  Everything I ever wanted was happening. His words sealed the deal. It was as if the world finally made an ounce of sense.

  “I fucking knew it!”

  I froze at the sound of that voice. The door slammed against the wall and bounced off as Julian marched past it, his anger palpable.

  Nate stilled, and I tried like hell to form a sentence.

  “What are . . .”

  My words fell flat when my gaze landed on the gun Julian held in his hand. Oh, God. I clutched Nate tighter.

  Julian’s other hand sliced through the air, papers flying in their wake, landing like feathers by my feet. Scared, I looked down and noticed it was a cell phone bill. I squinted at the printout, my stomach dropping the second I realized it was a transcript of my text messages with Nate.

  “How long has this been going on?” Julian slurred, waving the gun in the air.

  A tear dripped down my face. I knew nothing good was about to happen.

  “Let me explain.” Nate pushed me behind him to shield me.

  Julian ignored his brother as his angry eyes remained glued to mine. “You fucking whore. Running off to fuck him! I traced your cell phone! I read all the fucking text messages!” The vein on the side of his neck was protruding.

  “Julian, you’re drunk.” Nate said calmly. “If you’ll just let me explain—”

  “Don’t you dare fucking speak to me!” He steadied his arm, pointing the gun at his brother.

  Panic flooded my every sense. Without thinking, I jumped in front of Nate. “Wait!”

  He snapped his darkened gaze to Nate. “This is why you told me to go after her?”

  Nate’s breathing turned choppy behind me, his hands firm on my shoulders, trying to pull me back, but I refused.

  Julian’s eyes found mine, the gun still aimed at his brother. “This is why you married me?” He shook with head with disgust. “Because he didn’t choose you. I was your goddamn consolation prize.”

  My throat swelled with fear. “That’s not what happened.”

  “He’s my brother. You fucking whore. I loved you!” Julian screeched.

  I deserved all his hatred and his rage.

  “Julian . . . brother, please put the gun down.” Nate tried to plead with him, but his finger continued to hold steady on the trigger.

  “Please,” I begged, choking back a cry. “We can talk.” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “No.” Julian’s eyes were cold, the hazel hue replaced with a darkness I’d never seen before. “You. Don’t. Deserve. To live.” His slow, harsh words were no match for the way he closed his eyes. Every moment felt like hours, but was merely seconds as his finger pulled back on the trigger.

  A cold shiver stretched down my spine, the fear ricocheted inside my soul.

  “No!” Nate’s scream pierced my ears before the loud bang of a gunshot barreled through me, deafening all other sounds but its hiss.

  I closed my eyes. My knees hit the floor first as my body fell. I blindly clutched at my chest, gasping for air as I waited for the pain.

  But there wasn’t any.

  I wasn’t hit.

  My pulse raced, giving me a sign I was still alive. I’d been shoved.

  My head snapped to the side, and it was then I noticed Nate’s lifeless body lying on the floor. Surrounded by a pool of blood.

  “Nate!” I crawled to his side. Bright red stained his button down shirt. Julian had shot him in the chest. “Oh, my God!” I screamed. With shaky hands, I pressed my palms as hard as I could to his wounded flesh. “Stay with me.” Tears blurred my vision, but I could still make out the green of his eyes. He was trying to keep his lids open. “Stay with me, okay?”

  But this wasn’t over. Julian still had a gun. The hair on my neck stood on end. Petrified, I dared a glance up at Julian.

  He was feet away, banging the gun against his forehead. “No, no, no!”

  Nate coughed, and I applied more pressure to the wound. “Don’t die, I sobbed. “Please!” Nate blinked slowly up at me. He opened his mouth and tried to say something, but the garbled sounds of blood gurgling in his throat overtook his words.

  My sobs shook my body like an earthquake, making it harder to keep pressure on his weakening chest.

  “You weren’t supposed to move, damn you!” Julian paced the floor, cursing under his breath.

  “Julian, please. Call nine-one-one. You have to help him!” Nate’s warm blood oozed through my fingers.

  He pointed the barrel of the gun in my face within seconds. “Don’t talk to me!” he shouted. “This is your fault! He was my brother! You were supposed to die! You!”

  He was right. I was. “I know.” I nodded. “I’m so sorry. Please.” My voice shook with fear, anger, and hatred for myself. “Please call for an ambulance and then . . . I paused, glancing down at my dying love, and then back at Julian. “And then you can kill me.” I felt Nate’s weak grip on my leg.

  I cried looking at his fearful face. “Don’t die,” I whispered. “Please.”

  “You never loved me.” Julian’s nostrils flared. “I was never the one you wanted.” His hand trembled and his finger danced around the trigger again.

  “Please, Julian,” I pleaded. “Call for help. If you do that, you can kill me. Just please, for your brother, call for help.”

  Nate coughed one more time, but the way the blood spurted from his mouth told me it was his last time. His eyes fluttered closed and he lost consciousness.

  “No, no, no!” I pounded on his chest. I wanted to give him CPR, but all I could do was swim in my own thoughts. This was all my fault.

  Guilt.

  Remorse.

  Sorrow.

  Each emotion crashed into me like a bullet from Julian's gun.

  “No!” Julian held the gun in my direction. “You made me kill my brother, and now you need to pay for that.”

  I nodded. There was nothing left for me. If Nate died, this world would be as empty as I felt right now. This had been my fault from the very beginning. I closed my eyes, my hands clutching Nate, anticipating when the bullet would enter my body. When I would no l
onger be able to hold the pressure on his still chest. When his heart would stop beating under my palms.

  “Uncle Julian?” Caleb’s small voice echoed from the doorway. My eyes flew open, and I gasped for air. “Is my dad dead?” With wide, frightened eyes, he looked over at me, and then at the gun Julian was waving.

  Julian pulled his gaze away from the boy and glared at me with a piercing stare. “This is all because of you.”

  I couldn’t move.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Not Caleb. He was only a child.

  He turned the gun away from me, toward Caleb. I couldn’t speak, I could only reach out as if that would help. Then slowly, Julian’s hand lifted higher and higher until the gun was shoved in his mouth.

  “Juli—” I didn’t even get a chance to shout his name before he pulled the trigger and collapsed to the floor.

  “No!” I screamed.

  Caleb stood paralyzed, his small hands shaking at his sides, tears streaming down his face.

  “Caleb, sweetie.” I swallowed back the sob that wanted to escape. This little boy was the only one who could help us now. His face grew paler by the second, but I needed him.

  So I lied.

  “It’s going to be okay. Can you grab the phone and give it to me? Please, honey.” I tried to calm my high-pitched voice. I could still feel Nate’s heart beating. It was faint, but it was still there. I hoped there was a chance to save his life.

  “Is he . . .” Caleb asked. He took a step further, his little eyes stuck on Julian’s limp body.

  “Don’t look,” I said when he moved closer to Julian. “I can feel your dad's heartbeat, but we need to call nine-one-one. Do you think you can do that for me?”

  He nodded and ran to Nate’s computer desk. Dialing the emergency number, he placed the phone on speaker and held it up for me.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

  “There been a shooting. We need an ambulance.” I waited as the operator tracked where we were.

  I looked over at Caleb. “It will be okay,” I reassured him, yet the way my heart pinched, I wasn't so sure I believed it myself. “Help is on the way.” I looked down at Nate. The color in his cheeks faded as blood drained out of his body.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is all my fault. Please don’t die.”

  “Aunt B, I’m scared.” Caleb kneeled next to his father.

  “I know. Me, too. But help is coming. Your dad will be fine.”

  My biggest lie yet.

  Our lives would never be the same.

  Chapter 35

  The world around me spun until I didn't know which way I was heading. All I knew was that I'd been adding pressure to Nate's wound. The paramedics arrived and rushed us to the emergency room. Waves of people passed me. I was incoherent to it all.

  I stood in the sterile room. My eyes closed as I heard it all.

  “His BP is dropping!”

  “We have a 34-year-old male GSW to the chest.”

  “He's going into cardiac arrest.”

  “Starting CPR.”

  “He’s in V-Fib.

  “Paddles.”

  “Charge to two hundred.”

  “Clear!”

  “Charge to three hundred.”

  “Clear!”

  Beep Beep. Beep.

  “We need to get him into an OR.”

  Doctors shouted at each other and I hugged Caleb, his head buried in my chest as I shielded him from the sight of his dad.

  “Ma'am,” a young doctor said. “We're taking him up to surgery. Are you his next of kin?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “His wife's at work.”

  The female doctor shook her head sympathetically. Her eyes scanned my body and hands. They were drenched in his blood. “Because this is a gunshot wound, you will need to speak to the police officers and explain what happened. They have to open an investigation.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll get you something to change into.”

  “Can I wait until his mother comes?” I held on to Caleb. “I don't want to leave the boy alone.” I pleaded. “Can I speak to the police after she’s arrived?”

  “Of course.”

  A nurse appeared and gave me a pair of scrubs, directed us to the waiting area, and said someone would be out with an update. I sat with Caleb in the waiting room; his glare was locked on the pale green wall. He hadn't said a word to me. He hadn’t spoken since I told him everything would be fine.

  I closed my eyes and silently prayed for Nate.

  “Caleb!” Delaney's voice ricocheted from down the hall. We’d been sitting there for an hour before she arrived. Her footsteps stomped across the floor as she hurriedly approached us.

  “Caleb?” she said again. Caleb rushed to his mother and she hugged him tightly. “Oh, my baby. I was so worried.” She held his shoulders and examined him. “Are you okay?” Caleb nodded. Delaney held tightly to him and looked up at me. “What the hell happened?”

  I sat back in the chair and dropped my head. My palms were still tinted with Nate’s blood. “Julian is dead.” Delaney gasped. “He's downstairs in the morgue with the coroner.” I ran my hands through my hair as the image of a black bag being placed over him refused to leave my memory. ”Julian and I fought last night. He was back to his old Julian self.” I pointed to the bruise on my cheek. “I told him I wanted a divorce; that I couldn't do this anymore. And then I kicked him out of the house.” When I came home from work I decided I should tell Nate what was going on, and we went into his office to talk privately.” I glanced at Caleb. Julian must've been in the apartment. He came looking for me but he was disoriented, drunk, slurring his words and he pulled out a gun. He wanted to shoot me, not Nate.” I cried and looked up at Delaney. Tears dripped down her face.

  “But Julian’s dead?” Delaney asked.

  I nodded. My lower lip trembled. “Caleb walked in. Nate lost consciousness and Julian turned the gun on himself.

  “Mrs. Wright?” A nurse walked into the waiting room. “We have an update on your husband.” She looked over at me.

  “He’s my husband.” Delaney corrected her.

  “I’m sorry.” The nurse apologized. “Your husband is stable for now, Dr. Ororke is operating on him now. As soon as we know something more, I’ll notify you.

  “Thank you.” Delaney nodded and turned to hug Caleb.

  It was the longest eight hours until Nate was out of surgery. Delaney paced the waiting room. I spoke with the police officers and left a voicemail for Louisa. When Nate was in recovery and we thought there was hope after all, the floor was ripped out from underneath us.

  Delaney and I approached the ICU room where Nate was delivered after his surgery. It was late at night and Caleb was asleep with Delaney’s mother. We held hands as we walked further into the room. Delaney whimpered quietly while my heart broke in pieces. Tubes came from his mouth, machines beeped around him. I stood back and gave Delaney her time with him. I hated that she had that. Even then, while he was hanging on, I wanted more from him. Unable to control my emotions, I turned my back and cried silently.

  An erratic beeping noise startled me. I spun back to face Delaney. Her hand covered her mouth as she sobbed. A slew of doctors and nurses rushed in.

  “He’s crashing!” someone shouted.

  A nurse shoved Delaney out of the way.

  “What do we have?” a doctor called out. Unable to move, I held on to Delaney.

  “GSW to his chest, it grazed his Aortic. We had to bypass in two circuits. His pulse dropped and he’s in cardiac arrest.”

  “Okay. Get them out of here.” The doctor pointed to us.

  Delaney fought to stay in the room, but in the end we were shoved out.

  “It’s okay,” I cried. “He’ll be okay.” I nodded, needing to reassure myself more than her.

  “This is all your fault!” she screamed. “Ever since you showed up at our damn door.” She covered her face with her
hands. “We were happy!”

  “Del.”

  She didn’t speak to me. She simply shook her head and stormed away.

  I was alone.

  Utterly alone.

  “This urn is brass.” Donna, the funeral director, held it up for us to see. “It looks beautiful on a mantel.”

  It had been two days since the shooting, and we were already discussing funeral arrangements. I wanted to sit in a room and cry, but Louisa and Warren flew home once they got the news. We all agreed that a quiet funeral was best. There was no reason to open it up to anyone else.

  My head pounded, but I tried to keep my composure around Louisa. I needed to be strong for her, especially when she had no idea what happened between Nate and Julian. No one did. I was the only one who knew the entire tragic scene. It was all my fault.

  Delaney’s eyes were puffy and red from crying. Neither of us had slept much in the past few days. She had spent most the time crying and ignoring me. I was to blame for all of this. I was the reason Caleb was medicated. I was the reason we were selecting an urn at a funeral home that smelled like old stale clothes.

  I rested my hand on Louisa's thigh, and she looked at me with sad eyes. Her nose was still pink, but the Xanax she took had finally kicked in. “Brielle, what do you think?”

  “Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

  “We have a wooden urn or a marble one,” Donna said when there was a long pause. “Or there is always the option of a burial.”

  I bowed my head. I couldn’t picture Julian laying in a casket with half of his head missing.

  “We want it to be a cremation,” Delaney said when the words wouldn't leave my mouth.

  “This is fine.” I leaned forward and touched the brass one. “We'll take it.”

  Donna nodded and handed us a few more papers to sign. When we finished, Louisa pushed off the plush chair and walked out of the funeral home. Delaney's arm was laced with hers as she helped her into my car. I rested against the trunk while I waited.