by Abby Brooks
Except Sarah’s not smiling. She’s standing, her long fingers gripping the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles turn white, her cellphone pressed to her ear, color draining from her face.
“Is he gonna be okay?” she asks in a thin voice and then listens with wide eyes to whoever’s on the other end of the line.
Her fear sets off a nuclear blast inside me. A possessive need to swipe the phone out of her hand. End the call. And wrap her in my arms and make her feel better.
“Damn it, Colton. Don’t feed me a line of bullshit.” Sarah draws her brows together and pinches the bridge of her nose. “What are the doctors saying?” Her eyes meet mine and her nostrils flare as uncertainty wavers in her gaze. I stand on the other side of her desk and cover her hand with mine. The gesture says whatever it is, I’m here. You’re not alone.
“Okay.” She squeezes her eyes shut and drops her chin. “Thanks for letting me know. Please call if anything changes. Please.” Her voice cracks. “I love you.” She opens her mouth as if to say more, but the call ends before she can speak.
The phone clatters to her desk and Sarah drops into her chair. She stares at me without seeing me, then reaches for her purse and pulls out a bottle of pills. She blinks rapidly and lets out a breath. “Dad’s in the hospital. He had a stroke.” Her hand wraps around the bottle, tightening into a fist. “It’s not his first,” she adds and I realize how little I know about the woman I might be falling in love with.
I navigate to her side and pull her to her feet, wrapping my arms around her and swaying back and forth. She freezes momentarily before melting into me, one hand gripping my back, the other still a fist, pressing a prescription bottle into the muscles along my spine.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.
I rub her back and hold her close and then reach behind me and retrieve the pills. “Don’t do this.” I hold up the bottle and then put it on her desk. “I know it hurts. It’s scary. It dredges up all the years of worry and pain you have around your dad, but don’t dull it. Don’t run from it. Feel it. Face it. We have to experience the bad stuff to appreciate the good stuff. And I’m here, Sarah. I want to help.”
She nods, blinking back tears. “It was instinct. Grabbing them. I don’t really want them.” She gestures toward the bottle. “I don’t know what to do,” she says again.
“About what?” I listen as Sarah explains what little information her brother had for her.
When she’s done, her thoughts rush out in one long breath. “Should I go home? Part of me wants to go see my dad, but I don’t know if he’s ready to see me. I don’t know if he ever will be. What if me showing up out of the blue after all this time is too much stress on him and he gets worse? Would it be better for him if I stayed away? Honestly, it might be better for me. But what if he…” She shakes her head, unable to finish the thought. The elevator dings and she steps out of my grasp, sniffs, and paints a smile across her face as a draftsman strides by.
Part of me—a very selfish, very ugly part—wants to tell her to stay here with me. That now isn’t the time to have such a difficult conversation with her father.
That she should wait until he’s stronger.
Wait until she’s stronger.
That she should just wait.
That selfish voice reminds me that I don’t want her to leave because why in the world would she come back? And if she doesn’t come back, where does that leave me? She’s the first thing that’s not work-related that I can remember caring about.
Thankfully, I learned a long time ago not to listen to that little voice, the one that leads me to drink, to quiet its painful whispers with whiskey and beer. I brush Sarah’s hair from her face and wipe away the single tear trailing down her cheek. “I never told you my dad died when I was twenty-three, right in the middle of the worst of my drinking.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her words are reflexive and I shush them away.
“I never got to say goodbye to him. Never got to tell him about this job. Or thank him for giving me the background that led me to a career I love. He and I were never as close as I wanted us to be. I kept thinking there was time for all that later. That I could focus on my life now and then really show him what he meant to me later. Really find a way to build the relationship I always wanted. Then a car accident took him from us. The time was up, just like that.” I snap my fingers for emphasis, lost in the memories of the phone call from Chet. The sinking feeling of irrevocable loss. The realization that time is precious and life changes in the blink of an eye and the most important bits are also the simplest. “Go to him, Sarah. Go to your dad. Talk to him if you want to, but more importantly, just be there.”
Sarah nods, those ice blue eyes locked on mine as someone walks past us, talking loudly into his phone, pausing to lift a hand and smile on his way to the elevator. “I don’t want to have this conversation here,” Sarah says when he’s gone.
I draw her into my arms and run my hands up her shoulders. “Then let’s get out of here. It’s basically quitting time, anyway. We’ll go to my place and sort everything out.”
I’ve already come to the conclusion that she needs to go back home to Ohio. She needs to be with her family. She needs a chance to talk to her dad in case the worst happens. It’s the best thing for her. Even if it ends up being the worst thing for me.
Sarah nods, then takes a moment to collect herself before swiping her phone and her pills off the desk and tossing them into her purse. After she slides her chair into place, I wrap an arm around her shoulder and hold her close as we work our way out from behind her desk, stopping short when we come face to face with Bree, her arms crossed, her eyes wild.
Frank
Of all the times Sarah and I could have a confrontation with Bree Marshall, it had to be right now, when Sarah needs nothing more than to get out of here and focus on her dad. I glare at the woman staring us down, hopeful she can read between the lines. Instead, she rolls her eyes and lets out a long sigh.
“You really are a self-important asshole,” Bree says to me. She strides toward us, her heels clicking against the tile, and levels a finger in Sarah’s face. “I warned you about this,” she says, waving that finger between Sarah and me. “Frank Wilde is really good at making a woman feel special just long enough for her give in to him. And you’re falling for it hook, line, and sinker.”
I step forward, placing myself between Bree and Sarah. “This is neither the time nor the place,” I begin, but Bree ignores me.
“Let me guess,” she says to Sarah. “He told you I was crazy. That I misunderstood the situation and fell for him through no fault of his own.” She watches Sarah’s reaction and then shakes her head. “That’s what I thought.”
I put up with Bree’s nonsense because I like working here. Her slanderous allegations and possessive nature never bothered me because I never felt threatened by her. She has a few screws loose, but she’s not dangerous. Who in their right mind would take anything she says at face value? But now, with Bree’s sights set on Sarah, I feel a whole lot less understanding.
I level a glare at Bree that should make her blood run cold. “I’d suggest you turn around and head back to your desk…”
“Or what?” Bree holds out her arms. “What are you going to do, Frank? Lodge a complaint about me?” She laughs. “We both know how well that works around here. I complain about you. You complain about me. Yet, here we are.”
Sarah steps forward, chin lifted, shoulders square. When she speaks, her voice is clear and strong. “Thank you for your concern, but none of this is your business.”
Bree either doesn’t hear her, or doesn’t care. “This is the way he does it, you know. If you don’t believe me, ask Violet Dunham, the girl who had your job before you. She quit a week before you showed up. Couldn’t stand to work here anymore because he broke her poor heart. Just like he broke mine. Just like he’s going to break yours.”
Sarah turns to me and I see her putting the pieces of the puzzle toget
her. She has the wrong pieces, but damn it, they fit together exactly the way Bree wants them too. The first night I spoke to Sarah at Derby’s, I told her Violet was my girlfriend. She recognizes the name, rolling it around in her mouth while her already wild emotions chase her down dark paths. I need to get her out of here now, before Bree does more damage.
“Jesus Christ, Bree. Why? What do you think you’re going to accomplish here? Are you actively trying to ruin my life? Do me a favor and stay away from me. Stay away from Sarah. Just stay away.” I wrap my arm around Sarah’s shoulders and lead her to the elevators without giving Bree another glance. We wait in silence and then step into the car when it arrives.
“I didn’t know your dad passed away.” Sarah looks at me, her brows drawn together, her face unreadable. “And you didn’t know about my dad’s first stroke. I didn’t know Violet worked here while you were dating her. You don’t even know that no one can count on me to stick around and everyone accepts it as one of my quirks and forgives me for it.”
Her last statement makes me flinch. No one can count on me to stick around. That’s the last thing I want to hear, right before I help her pack her bags and send her on her way.
I wrap an arm around her and kiss the top of her head. “Those are definitely things we didn’t know about each other.” I don’t know where she’s going with this train of thought, but I don’t like it.
Sarah pulls back. “What are we doing here?”
I want to send this elevator right back up to the thirty-first floor and force Bree to explain why she’s chosen to spread chaos in my life, but that’s useless. Instead, my focus belongs on Sarah, though the elevator is no place to have the conversation she wants to have. I opt for humor, hoping to diffuse the situation.
“We’re leaving work to go to my apartment so we can talk through what to do about your dad.”
“I know that. I mean, what are we doing?” She gestures between us. “What is this, Frank?”
I step close as the elevator begins to slow. “I don’t know what it is,” I say. “I’m in so far over my head with you, I can’t always catch my breath.”
She blinks at me and I smile despite myself.
“But I love every minute of it, Sarah. Every single minute. And it’s crazy because you don’t live here and we don’t know anything about each other and yet, when I look at you, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”
I trail off as the elevator comes to a stop. The doors rumble open, but neither one of us moves. Sarah offers me a tight-lipped smile, her eyes telling me everything I need to know. I smile in return and lead her through the lobby.
Her eyes have always spoken volumes, though I’ve never been sure I understood the language. I understand now.
Whatever happens next, we’re in this together.
Sarah
My thoughts have been surging through my head since I picked up my phone and Colton told me about Dad. I can’t make sense of most of what I’m thinking, since one thought contradicts the next, which contradicts the next, which contradicts the next.
For example, I want to go back to Ohio to see my dad but I’m scared of his reaction.
Will seeing me push him too far in his weakened state and cause him to get worse?
And, while I’m afraid it might be too much stress for him, I’m also worried how his reaction will affect me.
If he tells me he’s not ready to see me, even now, when he might very well be on his deathbed, how will I handle that? What will that do to my self-worth?
On top of all of that, I don’t want to leave Frank, but I don’t know if Frank even wants me to stay in Denver. He’s been adamant that I go back to Brookside.
It’s like I don’t know anything anymore. Up is down and down is up and nothing I thought was true actually is.
“Bree’s crazy,” I say to Frank, after several quiet minutes in the car. “Anyone can see that. I can’t tell if she’s upset that you didn’t fall for her, or if she truly believes you manipulated her, but either way, she’s out to get you.”
Frank glances at me, one eyebrow lifted. “You mean that?”
I nod. “Yep. She’s angry and trying to get between us, but it’s not going to happen. I like you too much to let someone like her make me think less of someone like you.”
I can’t imagine anything that would make me think less of Frank. He’s pretty much the most perfect human being I’ve ever met. And no matter how many people I meet in the future, I’m sure that statement will hold true for the rest of my life.
His shoulders drop away from his ears and he lets out a long breath. “I can’t tell you what a relief that is. I’ve been afraid you bought what she’s selling and I’d have to drive back to work and kill her for getting between us.” He drops me a wink and offers a playful smile, but the look in his eyes is much darker, seething with contempt and the possibility of destruction.
“Don’t worry. There’s no need for homicide in your future.” I smile through the wash of confusion raging through my head.
Frank places a hand on my thigh. He wants to say something, I can see it all over his face, but he chooses silence and I don’t push him. Instead, fear spins me in circles. Despite all my bravado about not believing Bree, a worried voice in my head keeps reminding me how quickly Frank told me I should go home and see my dad. He didn’t even consider asking me not to go.
And the more I try not to listen to that voice, the louder it gets. The more I remind myself that Frank is a good man, the more that voice reminds me I’m not a good woman.
While I’m sure Frank’s insistence that I go home and see my family is an example of him being supportive in the best way he knows how, that little voice wants me to think he’s trying to get rid of me. Even a perfect human being could get tired of someone like me.
Yeah, well, if he wanted me gone, why would I be in his car going to his apartment? I ask the voice.
Duh. Because you put out and he wants one more quickie before he tosses you to the curb, the voice replies.
I take a long breath and let it out slowly as I watch pedestrians on the other side of the window.
Old Sarah would have crumbled under the confusion by now. She would have told Frank to stop the car, gotten out, and run back to Brookside, numbed from the inside out by too many pills to keep count.
New Sarah sits as quietly as she can, as long as she can before turning to Frank just as he pulls into the parking garage under his complex. “Can I say something?” I ask.
“Of course.” Frank glances at me as he navigates the tight turns of the underground space.
I explain the inner argument I’ve been having and then sit like a defendant on trial, terrified of his verdict.
Frank pulls into his parking spot, turns off the car, and spins in his seat. “You’re afraid I’m kicking you out of Denver?”
“Not really,” I say and then laugh at myself. I’m the one who started the conversation. The least I could do is be brave enough to be honest. “But yeah. Kind of.”
I hang my head, ashamed of how weak I really am. I spend my life trying to pretend I’m strong. That I’m confident enough not to worry about what people think of me when really, that’s all I do.
“Sarah…” Frank chuckles and shakes his head. “What if I told you I spent most of today wondering if it was too soon to ask you to move to Denver?”
I lift my gaze. “Really?”
Am I ready to make a commitment like that? The joy pounding through my heart suggests I am.
“Really.” Frank nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t want you gone, Sarah. I’ve been dreading the time when you decide to leave Denver and continue west, or go back to Ohio, or whatever it is you decide to do. I love having you in my life. The only reason I suggested you go home is because I don’t want you to have any unresolved issues with your family. I want you to talk to them and heal what’s broken because I think that’s what you need in order to truly find happiness. Then I want you to
come back and if I had my way, you’d never leave again.”
“You really want me to stay?”
No one wants me to stay.
Everyone is happier once I’m gone.
It’s why I’m so good at leaving.
Why stick around when you’re not welcome? It’s why Tessa said it’d be wrong of her to start holding my quirks against me now. It’s why she forgave me so easily. She can’t be mad at me when I ultimately gave her what she wanted.
“I really want you to stay.” Frank lifts a shoulder and tilts his head. “I mean, I want you to go and talk to your dad, but in the end, I want you to come back to me. I want you, Sarah. And not just your body. I want your heart, your mind, your soul.”
His words leave me breathless, but I swallow back my reaction. “It looks like you’ll get your wish, or the second half of it, I guess. There’s no way I can go home. It’s a long way back to Ohio and I don’t have a lot of money. It’ll take me at least two days to get there, maybe less if I don’t stop. But there’s gas, and food, and I don’t know if I should keep paying for my hotel while I’m gone?”
I stack up all the reasons I can’t make the trip home. Turn them into a wall, a fortress to wrap around me and my poor heart. And breathe a sigh of relief.
I want to go to my dad.
But I can’t handle another rejection from him.
I just can’t.
So, I’ll stay safe and warm here in Denver, with Frank. I’ve made it this far without having my dad in my life. Him being in the hospital changes nothing. And if he doesn’t make it? I guess that’s a bridge I’ll figure out how to cross if it happens. A lump forms in my throat at the thought. I try to swallow it down, but it nearly strangles me.
Frank sucks in his lips and looks at me with kindness in his eyes. “All those things are easy to solve. I’ll buy you a plane ticket. We’ll call it a gift. No need to repay me. And no, you will not keep paying for that shitty hotel when you’re not there, especially because there’s no reason for you to come back.”
