Broken Course

by Aly Martinez

  "Is she okay?" I bite out, praying that he doesn’t have an answer.

  "Who? Sarah?" he asks, notably confused and my shoulders fall in relief.

  "Hey, can you give me Caleb’s number real fast. I need to ask him something."

  He narrows his eyes but rattles off a few numbers.

  "You got Emma’s too?" I ask while adding the contact to my cell phone.

  "What’s going on? Something happen?" he asks curiously before sliding a Magnolia Photography card from his wallet with Emma’s number on it.

  "Just give me a minute," I say, typing out a text to Caleb.

  Me: Hey, it’s Leo. Has Emma seen Sarah the last few days?

  I begin to type out a message to Emma when my phone pings back.

  Caleb: She’s okay. Emma spent the night at her place last night. You want to grab a beer tonight and talk about this shit?

  Me: Probably not, but I’ll let you know. Thanks.

  I rush out a relieved breath. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is this the first time I bothered to think about how Sarah is doing? I’ve been so lost in all the ways I could think of to try to fix this and get her back that didn’t even think about how this was affecting her. Maybe she’s better off without me. I’m such a fucking mess. I can’t even—

  "Everything okay?" Brett asks, reminding me that he’s in the room.

  "Yeah. Fine. Thanks for the numbers."

  "No problem," he responds, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets.

  "So what can I do for you?"

  "Look, I’m sorry about just stopping by tonight. I’ve spent over a week talking myself out of coming over here, but I truly feel like this is something I have to do."

  "Oh yeah? What’s that?" I question with a little more attitude than I originally intended.

  "Sarah. She’s not…right," he says, which causes me to bark out a laugh.

  "Really?" I ask in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

  "You don’t know who she is, and I don’t know what she’s told you, but I feel like I need to maybe fill in the gaps."

  "Get out," I growl while walking past him toward the door.

  "Just hear me out. There’s some shit you need to know."

  "I don’t need to know any of your shit. Because that is exactly what it would be—shit."

  "How long have you two been seeing each other?" he asks, turning to face me but not budging even after I open the door.

  "I’m not even remotely interested in listening to anything you have to say about Sarah. Especially when you start a conversation about the woman I love with bullshit about her not being ‘right.’"

  "Fuck," he breathes and runs a hand through his hair. "I didn’t mean it like that."

  "She’s your ex-wife. There’s a reason for that," I remind him just to be a dick.

  "No, she’s not. I was never married to the woman you’re in love with."

  "Even better. Then this conversation really is moot. I have work to do, so I’m going to need you to leave now."

  "Did Sarah tell you what happened that night at Jesse’s apartment?"

  "Oh for fuck’s sake. What is it with you people needing to warn me about shit? Yes. I know all about Sarah’s past. I don’t give a shit. She’s not perfect. Yeah, yeah. I get it." My frustration is palpable. I slam the door closed because Brett obviously isn’t planning to leave until he says his piece.

  "Well, there are some facts you should know."

  "Well, there’s a fact you should know as well. I don’t give a fuck about your facts!" I roar, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.

  "Her favorite color is blue. Not just any old generic blue. She’s very specific," he rushes out oddly.

  "Baby blue," I finish for him.

  "For Sarah’s twenty-fifth birthday, I ordered her a custom Walther P22 with a baby-blue grip. It was ridiculous and I paid a fortune for it. She was never big on guns, so she was pissed when I bought her one. She didn’t speak to me for a week. But I was a rookie back then and worked a lot of nights while trying to work my way up to detective. I saw all the crime that happened while on patrol, and it killed me that she was always alone. I just wanted to know she was safe. So I ordered this gun, started taking her to the range, and taught her how to shoot. She was hesitant at first, until I made it a competition on who could hit the most targets. You know Sarah—she’s so fucking competitive." He pauses to quietly laugh.

  I nod in agreement. That is one thing I definitely know about Sarah, and even though Brett is standing right in front of me, I can’t help but smile as my mind drifts back to that first night when she dropped her dress in my kitchen.

  "Anyway, she got good—like, really good. We spent at least one night a week at the range for years." He smiles and it annoys me.

  As ridiculous as it sounds, I’m fucking jealous of his time spent with Sarah. I should have been the one to spend seven years with her. Not fucking months. But I guess Brett should understand how I'm feeling. He somehow survived losing her. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from him.

  Or I could continue to be a jealous dick.

  "Is this going somewhere?"

  "I’m getting there. So, that night, at Jesse’s apartment… Sarah pulled the trigger only inches away from me, yet she somehow managed to miss. Sure, she may have been a bit rusty after four years, but a toddler could have hit me at that range."

  "Wait. You don’t think she tried to shoot you?"

  "Nope. Now listen, the only reason I’m telling you this is because I want you to understand I don’t hate Sarah. I just personally can’t deal with her. Every time I see her or think about her, I turn into a brand of asshole that would give Caleb a run for his money. I remember the way it felt when I thought she had hurt Jesse. I’ll never be able to get over that. But I’m not here to fill your head with a bunch of bullshit about what a terrible person she is. Sarah’s just broken."

  "Was," I quickly correct him. "She was broken. She’s not anymore."

  "Right. Well, then, what was all that shit when I first got here then? You planning a party and just happened to need Emma’s and Caleb’s number?"

  "No. I fucked up. Not Sarah," I snap. "But that’s—"

  "None of my business." He waves me off. "Look, I saw Sarah with you last week at the restaurant. The way you kept her together… I have no idea what the hell you said to her, but it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. After the wreck, I wasn’t able to do that for her. I’ve never seen anyone affect Sarah like that, actually."

  "The truth. I told her the truth. Sarah doesn’t believe it herself, but up until a few days ago, she believed me." I drop my head and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  "You cheat on her?" he asks.

  My eyes fly up to his. Not that it’s any of his fucking business, but I feel compelled to answer anyway.

  "Jesus Christ, no."

  "Meh. Nothing that can’t be fixed then." He shrugs.

  "Yeah? How’d that work out for you and Sarah? You didn’t cheat, right?" I smart back.

  He crosses his arms over his chest. "I was never supposed to be with Sarah after that accident. I tried really fucking hard though, and that was ultimately my own demise. I may not know Sarah now, but I sure as hell know how to alienate her."

  I laugh humorlessly. "I think I’ve got that covered. Thanks for stopping by."

  "I’m here because I wanted to reach out and tell you all the ways I fucked up so you don’t make the same mistakes. It’s been seven years since that wreck, and we’ve all gotten better. Well, everyone but Sarah. She’s been stuck in this holding pattern, yet it appears you made her better…even for just a minute.

  "You have to understand, Sarah was always high strung. She was wild—always the first to be dancing on the bar or fluttering around socially. It was hard for me when she changed. I tried so hard to make her the woman I remembered. And you know what it did? It drove her away."

  "Gosh, as enlightening as this has been, I didn’t know Sarah before any of th
is, so I’m not trying to make her anyone she isn’t."

  "No, you’re missing what I’m saying. I tried. There was nothing natural about it. Whatever the hell you did in that restaurant wasn’t forced and she responded to it."

  "Yeah, well, things have changed since then." I grab the back of my neck and let out a loud exhale.

  "Well, fix it," he says simply. "Leo, there’s an invisible chain that has bound the six of us together since the wreck. When I met Jesse, it severed a link. Emma snapped one and then Eli’s betrayal shattered another. However, there’s one left. And I need you to break it. Sarah deserves a happy ending too, and I’m going to need you to give that to her."

  "No pressure, right?" I laugh then swallow hard. Fuck, I want to give that to her too.

  "No one’s been able to touch Sarah in seven years. Don’t fuck this up. I spent a third of my life with Sarah Erickson, and when she loves, she loves harder than anything you have ever experienced. However, your problem is going to be making her remember that."

  "Damn it, I’m trying!" I yell, causing Brett to shake his head.

  He walks to the door and pauses just before he passes me. "Then stop. I’m assuming you weren’t trying before. Don’t fucking start now." And without another glance, he walks out my door, ending the weirdest virtually one-sided conversation I have ever experienced in my life.

  Just as the door clicks, I snatch up my phone and call Johnson. He’s only downstairs, but I need to talk to someone—preferably someone who hasn’t slept with Sarah.

  "Yo."

  "Would you leave her alone?"

  "Erica?"

  "No, asshole. Sarah. Tell me I’m wrong for giving her space."

  "Would you be doubting it if Sharp hadn't just been up there?"

  "Probably," I answer honestly.

  "Then yeah, you’re probably doing the wrong thing."

  I let out a long string of expletives and snatch my keys off the table next to the door. "Does Slate need you this week?"

  "Nope. They are laying low until Erica has the baby."

  "I’ll be gone for a few days. I just finished payroll, so things should be smooth."

  "I won’t let it explode, I swear." He laughs and I can hear it as I step off the elevator. He meets me as I walk to the car.

  "Will you close down the house? I’m sure I left every light on."

  "No problem. Hey, can I say something without you being a prick?"

  "Right now? Probably not," I snark.

  "Oh well. I guess I’ll take that chance. Leo, I can almost guarantee she’s overthinking all of this. All her gears are probably spinning, but none in the right direction. If you want any type of future with Sarah, this is the time to lay it all out there."

  "I know," I answer curtly.

  "No. I mean all of it," he reiterates.

  "OH MY God!" I hear Sarah scream, causing me to jump to my feet.

  "Jesus Christ. Shhh."

  "What the fuck are you doing here? You scared me to death."

  "Change of plans. You parked your ass at my apartment for days while I worked through my shit. I’m here to do the same."

  "Leo, it’s two a.m. Go home," she says calmly.

  "Nah. I’m good, thanks. We don’t spend nearly enough time here. Your couch is actually really comfortable." I recline back down, propping my feet on the coffee table.

  "You have lost your fucking mind. Get out," she demands with attitude creeping into her voice.

  "You got anything to eat?" I ask, and for a brief second, I think her eyes might pop out of her head.

  "Are you kidding me here? What the hell is wrong with you? Get. Out," she snaps right alongside her temper.

  She’s beautiful when she’s pissed. And also a tad bit scary. I decide to stick with being a smartass. She’ll have to laugh eventually. Hopefully.

  "Jesus, calm down. I didn’t eat dinner. It’s not the end of the world."

  "I’m not doing this with you. Get the fuck out of my apartment or I swear to God…" Her chest begins to heave.

  "I’m not going home. I miss you."

  "Well, I don’t miss you. Now, leave," she bites out.

  Even though I’m relatively sure she’s lying, it still feels like a punch to the stomach. But I refuse to back down. I have my mind set on making this right, and I can be stubborn as hell when I need to be.

  "Look who’s lying now." I smirk and can almost see her fuse disappear.

  "Get the fuck out of my house." She races forward, grabs my keys and phone off the coffee table, and heads for the door.

  "Hey, what are you doing?"

  "Goddamn it, Leo. Leave me alone."

  "I’m not here to bother you, ángel," I reply with a sweet smile.

  The vein on her neck begins to show, and I have a sudden and irrational urge to lick it. However, I have a stronger desire to keep my nuts intact.

  "Get out!" she shrieks, throwing my keys and phone into the breezeway.

  "Hey! That was a new phone." I rush out the door after it.

  She slams the door behind me and I hear the deadbolt click as I pick up my belongings. I count to thirty before using my key to let myself back in.

  I walk in and find Sarah leaning over her kitchen sink, crying. It all but breaks me. But I’m not willing to show her that.

  "We need to get you a chain or something for this door."

  She stares at me for a minute and I swear I see something flash through her eyes. Humor, maybe?

  "You’re hurting me," she cries. Nope, definitely not humor. "Just you being here physically hurts."

  "I’m not trying to hurt you, Sarah. But you should know it’s excruciating for me to stay away."

  Her shoulders fall and she drops her chin to her chest as tears once again begin to flow from her eyes. "I hate you so much," she chokes out.

  "Well, I love you enough to supersede that," I respond more honestly than I have ever been in my life.

  "No, you don’t. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have played me for the last two months. Lying and filling my head with bullshit at every turn."

  "I omitted. I never lied to you, ángel. Well, maybe once. I hated Vanilla Sky." I grin. It’s lost even on me why I’m making jokes right now, but I can’t seem to stop. If I can just lighten the mood, maybe she will come around. And I desperately need her to come around right now.

  "Is this a fucking joke to you? Are you getting off on watching me fall apart? You enjoying the show, Leo?" She grabs the plate on the counter and hurls it across the room, shattering it against the wall. "There! Is that better for you? Is this what you wanted all along—a front-row seat to see Crazy Sarah Erickson firsthand? Well, here she is!" She moves to the cabinet and pulls out another plate, which quickly joins its mate broken on the floor.

  "You’re not crazy, Sarah. You’re mad. I get it. I really fucking do. I’m sorry I wasn’t more up-front with you. But—"

  "But what? Waiting for me to lose it was more entertaining?" She throws another plate at the wall and finally…fucking finally, I lose it too.

  "You want crazy, Sarah?" I walk to the kitchen to join her, grabbing a mug from the open cabinets. "I’ve found coffee cups to be more gratifying." I throw it as hard as I can against the wall. "You are not the only person in the fucking world who has issues. If you want to talk crazy, let me tell you a little fucking story."

  I grab another coffee cup and send it flying. "I know Erica because, while I was working undercover for the DEA, I stood outside her door and allowed over eight men to rape her."

  Sarah stumbles back a step, her look of horror matching the way I feel inside. I snatch up another cup and throw it.

  "I was so riddled with guilt that I couldn’t breathe at night. I became obsessed with making it up to her, even despite the fact that it was in her best interest to remove myself from the situation. She was scared of everything back then, and in some sick way, I loved it because it gave me a purpose and silenced her screams that were constantly ringing in my ear
s."

  Sarah throws her hand to cover her mouth.

  "Yeah. Crazy, right?"

  The last two coffee cups go flying across the room.

  "Oh, but wait. I’m just getting to the good part. When she and Slate got married, I was devastated. I was never in love with Erica, but I needed her. We spent three years in the Witness Protection Program together. And the moment she moved in with Slate, all the shit I had done came storming back into my head. It was too much. I decided to kill myself—the day before her wedding."

  Sarah’s eyebrows pop up.

  "One hell of a way to say sorry, huh? But I was too fucked up to even realize it."

  Tears stream down her face. My heart is racing, but the dam has been opened. I can’t stop now. I move to her bowls, slinging one over my shoulder into the pile of broken dishes on the floor.

  "Slate found me before I had the opportunity to follow through with my plan. Johnson drove me straight to Building Foundations and forced me inside. It just so happens that it was the day you gave your goodbye speech. You remember that one, right? When you bared your soul to a room full of strangers just to give them hope. You don’t know this, but there’s a reason why I call you ángel. Sarah, your words saved my life."

  "Oh my God," she breathes.

  "That’s it. That’s all I’ve got." I shrug and throw one last plate at the wall. "Oh, wait. And I love you. I love you despite it all, and now, I’m standing here, begging you to love me despite it all too." I run my hands through my hair and wait for her to respond.

  However, she doesn’t move a muscle. Her eyes stay glued to me, but I’m not completely sure she’s even breathing. It becomes unnerving.

  "Please say something," I whisper.

  Her silence wounds me deeper than her words ever could.

  "I SHOULDN’T have come here," Leo mumbles as he turns to walk away.

  How the hell am I supposed to respond to something like that? So much of what he said doesn’t even make sense. He allowed men to rape Erica? No way. He and Erica are close. There has to be more to that story, and as much as I want to run to avoid any further discussion, I need the answers more.

  "Leo, wait. Just give me a minute. That was a lot for me to process. I’m going to need you to explain a little more about the part where you allowed Erica to be raped," I call out, and he blows out a relieved breath.