by Ivy Raine
She hadn’t yet made it back to the van before the churning in her stomach grew into something worse. With her face deep down in the knee-high weeds and wildflowers, Marta threw up. Only this was much more than just emptying her unsettled stomach. It was about getting Stash out of her system – permanently. She heaved until nothing but pain would come from her knotted, hollow stomach.
When the waves of nausea finally stopped, Marta made her way back to the van and climbed into the sun-warmed seat. It felt good on her aching back, and reminded her of her carefree days as a child when she’d sit in the sun spot on the floral carpet in the family room and watch for Kyle to poke his head out his front door. She could see everything from that spot by the window: Kyle’s front door, the nasty Corwin sisters’ side yard, and even the playground down at the end of the street. For her, it was the whole entire world wrapped up neatly into a dozen little streets. For a moment, she thought about calling her mother, but snuffed that idea out in a hurry. Her mom would know instantly that something was wrong, and in her current state of mind, Marta would most likely spill her guts about everything.
No. She would just wait and talk to Brad. Safe and stable. That was Brad.
***
“Hope you don’t mind a low-key evening.” It didn’t take a brick over the head for Brad to notice something was wrong. “You don’t look like you’re up for too much tonight.”
Marta managed a weak smile. She’d tried to put Stash out of her mind, but the revelations that came with her afternoon stop at the garage were just too much to fake something more. “Thanks. I’m sorry if I’m not good company tonight.”
A warm arm slid around her shoulder. “It wouldn’t matter if you were dead asleep against my shoulder. Just being with you is good enough for me.”
Oh, the sweet feeling of being wanted – wanted without stipulations.
“How about some popcorn? We can pull out an old movie and just forget about the day.”
That was the best news Marta’d heard since the sun popped over the horizon. “I’m in.” She followed Brad to the kitchen.
“Marco and Shelli said they’d like to go out again sometime.” Brad pulled a deep, cast iron pot from the oven and poured a thin layer of coconut oil on the bottom. “Shelli really seems to like you, and if you know Shelli, that’s saying a lot.”
Every time Marta thought of Shelli – and she’d done that often since that night at Ringers – she remembered the sadness in her eyes. Sadness that, according to Shelli, had been put in its place, but Marta could still see the stains it left on her. Stains that would probably be carried from decade to decade until old age faded its sting.
“She’s an odd one.”
Brad nodded; he knew all about Shelli’s history. “Yeah, but Marco keeps her laughing. And most of all, he understands her.”
“That’s nice.” Simple words, complex meaning. To find someone who ‘understands’ you at your worst and loves you in spite of it is a gift. Marta looked at Brad and smiled inside. Unlike Stash, Brad was the type to stay around for the long haul. There was no secret agenda with Brad and he made no effort to hide what he was feeling.
She spent the evening resting against Brad’s shoulder, not really watching the movie, but instead, replaying the last few months over and over in her head. It was all a muddled mess and no single thought would rise to the surface to make her path clear. She was grasping for something – anything – to lead her in the right direction. Little did she know, the catalyst she was looking for was waiting for her back at the cottage.
The wind had picked up; Marta could feel the mist in the air. Slamming the van door shut, she instantly regretted the loud reverberation that echoed through the sleeping neighborhood. She’d stayed at Brad’s until late – very late. Tomorrow was sure to be a bitch.
“Where are you, key?” The sliver of metal tucked itself down in the bottom of Marta’s bag – again. As she pulled it out, Marta heard what sounded like a plastic shopping bag tumbling around in the breeze. A few seconds later, the slight rustling turned into footsteps in the dark. Marta’s heart beat faster.
“Hello?” She trained her ear toward the approaching sound, frantically looking around for something that could be used as a weapon. The beam from a flashlight inched around the corner.
“It’s just Al.” He wheezed a little as he shuffled through the darkness. “Your light’s out again, young lady. One of these nights you’re gonna come home and someone’s gonna knock you out.”
Marta clutched at her chest in a futile attempt to calm her racing heart. “You scared me!”
“I brought you another bulb.” He flipped his flashlight up to the lamp post. “You really need to have this entire thing replaced. You’ve got a short somewhere.”
Marta nodded in agreement. They’d gone over this once before, but Al told her all over again like it was fresh and new.
“Next week. I promise.”
He popped open the hinged door and unscrewed the old bulb. “Val always told me the same thing. Next week, Dad. And guess what. Next week always came and whatever it was that needed taken care of still didn’t get done. You young people are always in too big of a hurry to get wherever the hell it is that’s so damn important.”
The bulb flickered to life, flooding the immediate area with soft, yellow light.
“Thank you, Al.” Marta gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I really appreciate you watching out for me.”
He slipped the old bulb down into his pocket. “You’d be smart to listen to what I tell you, Marta, especially now that you’re here alone.” Reaching into his other pocket, Al pulled out a folded piece of lilac stationary. “Someone stopped by earlier today.” Al cleared his throat and hesitated. He clearly didn’t want to be the one to deliver the message. “She was lookin’ for Stash.”
Marta flinched. “She? Did she give you her name?” The world seemed to halt in mid breath.
Al handed Marta the crisp piece of paper. “Devon, I believe. Good lookin’ girl. I told her Stash hadn’t been around for a while, but she left this anyway just in case he happened to come back. I figured you had a right to it.”
Marta took the note, trying very hard not to look at the flowery writing scribble across it. Poor Al. It pained him almost as much as it did her. The offensive, little letter burned in her hand and she had a primal urge to rip it to pieces and scatter it to the night wind.
“Did you say anything about me?”
Al shook his head. “Ain’t none of her business.”
“Thank you. And thank you for the light bulb,” she said, unlocking the front door.
“Remember!” he called over his shoulder as he retreated back into the night. “Get that damn post fixed!”
Once inside, with the door blocking out the world, Marta uncrumpled the paper from her sweaty hand. She shook as she forced her eyes across the purple, swirly letters
Stash,
Please call me. You left before I could explain. It’s not what you think. Come home. I need you.
Devon
Marta crumpled the paper back up and stomped off to the kitchen. “I don’t think so, Devon. You’re half the reason he’s so screwed up, and you’re not getting a second chance to destroy him.”
She flipped on the stove burner and touched the note to the rising heat. Within a few seconds, it burst into flame and Marta tossed it into the sink. She watched as the scented paper twirled off into haphazard tendrils of white smoke. When the last of the smoke dissipated, black, damp ashes were all that remained. There was only one thing left to do. Marta turned on the water and washed Devon right down the drain.
Irrational as it may be, Marta reveled in her ‘destruction’ of Devon’s little game. She cared too much about Stash to let this creature get her claws into him again. No matter what happened between them and who he chose to be with, she wanted what was best for him. Oddly, Marta was almost glad he was with Lindi simply because it wasn’t Devon.
As Marta la
y in bed that night listening to the steady rhythm of the ocean, she dissected herself and went through her emotional inventory. She knew exactly why she acted the way she did, but when it came time to putting it into words, Marta became a blathering idiot with zero grasp of the English language.
“I love you Aaron Herman Steele.”
The unexpected, liberating words cut through the night, interrupting and taking precedence over the ever constant waves lapping at the shore. Marta’s heart beat faster. To hear the words spoken aloud terrified her. To admit to herself – inside of her head where it was safe – was one thing, but to profess her love out loud to human ears, though they were just her own, was another thing entirely.
Chapter 14
It was their eighth date in as many weeks. What did she really expect?
Marta found herself wondering exactly how she’d get out of this one. That wasn’t normally what a woman thought about as a man prepared to make love to her, but Marta’s mind jabbed out in ten different directions, each one hitting a brick wall. She just couldn’t give herself to someone – someone to whom she couldn’t truly utter the words ‘I love you’ – when those words belonged to someone else.
“Oh, Marta.” Brad ran his lips down the length of her neck before starting back up again. That’s when she felt his hands going in places she wasn’t prepared for. She caught his left hand and laced her fingers through his, but it didn’t slow him down. Backing her toward the bed, Brad spun around and pulled her down on top of him. Instinct began to take over and Marta knew if she didn’t do something soon, it would be too late.
“No. Stop,” she mumbled into his shoulder. Granted, it wasn’t exactly an emphatic ‘stop’, but she said it nonetheless. Marta pulled away and sat up, straddling Brad’s torso. “I…can’t. Not right now. I’m sorry.” And, she was – truly, but she couldn’t make love to Brad when she was in love with Stash – even if he’d never know it.
Brad stroked her arms. “Did I do something?”
Marta bit her lip and looked away. How could she tell him that while he’d been planning his life around her, she’d been pulled along with him like water down a drain – and it was time to put a plug in the sink for both of their sakes. “It just feels…off. The restaurant being right outside the door, and all.” The words she wanted to say – tried to say – just didn’t make it out. It broke her heart to think about hurting him.
“Why don’t we go somewhere else? Maybe a short vacation. We can get away and relax.” The near pleading in Brad’s voice weighed her down with guilt. She had to tell him.
“Brad.” Marta extricated herself from him, careful not to expose the barely-there lace panties she wore under her red, leather mini skirt. “You have no idea how much fun I’ve had over the last two months. You’ve shown me things and taken me places that I’ve never been.” She looked away. She didn’t want to remember the pain she’d surely see in his eyes. “After Stash left, I felt like I’d been cut into millions of little pieces. At the time, I didn’t want to admit to myself why it hurt so bad. We were friends – room mates.” She looked at Brad, laying on the bed with his hands laced behind his head, listening intently to her every word. “You helped to put me back together. You made me see that life doesn’t have to hurt, that there are things and people out there who are worth living for. You’ve helped me get to the point of realizing that I shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting happiness. You’re an amazing person, and you deserve to have happiness, too.” A lump rose up high in her throat. “I love you for all that you are, Bradley Mirelli.”
“But you’re not in love with me.” He massaged the tender spot right between his brows. “I think I knew it all along. I was just hoping.”
Marta’s lower lip quivered, but she vowed she wouldn’t cry. “I’m sorry.”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat beside Marta. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?"
The exhausted heave Marta let out surprised even her. “Yeah.” What more could she say? The one word reply summed it up neatly. She’d been keeping that little secret for far too long, even from herself, and it felt like a million pounds lifted from her shoulders when she admitted it to another human being.
Brad ran little circles around on her back with the palm of his hand. “You realize I love you, don’t you?” Not waiting for a reply, Brad pushed onward. “I love you in ways I never thought possible. I love every single thing about you right down to the way you pinch your lips when you’re annoyed, and I’d do absolutely anything to make you happy. Anything. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. You just need to grasp that before I tell you…something.”
Standing up, Brad paced forward about ten steps, came to a grinding halt and spun around to face her. “Did you ever catch butterflies when you were little?”
Marta couldn’t help but smile. She knew right where this was going. Or so she thought. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Brad shook his head. “Nope. They scared the hell out of me with their sticky, clingy legs and that long thing coming out of their mouth. Yuck.” He shivered. “Anyway, when I was about ten, my dad brought home two puppies for Easter.”
Marta raised a brow and wondered how they went from butterflies to dogs. “Puppies? For Easter?”
“Yeah, well, I’d hoped for bunnies, but apparently they were all out, so I got puppies. The puppies followed each other around everywhere. They slept together, ate together, played together and got into trouble together. And the worst part? They wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. Especially the cocky little black and white one.”
“I’m going out on a limb here and guessing that I represent the cocky one.”
“Well, yes and no,” he hedged. “The cocky little bastard was a boy and you’re…you’re definitely not a boy, and you’re not cocky, and you like me at least a little. And most importantly, you don’t nip when I get too close. But, back to my story.” He put a finger to his lips and cleared his throat. “So, one day I decided I’d grab the little monster and lock him in my bedroom with me. I was determined to make friends with him.”
“Did it work?”
“Again, yes and no. He warmed up to me and he even played a little, tore a hole in my sock, and gave me a wet willy. All seemed to be progressing nicely until he went to the door and started the whine. I called him back a few times and we played a little more, but each time he went back to the door.”
Brad stopped and sat down beside Marta again.
A pain stabbed at Marta’s eye, but she refused to give in to the tears. “You let him out, right?”
“Yep. And he went right back to his brother – the place he wanted to be all along. I was just a temporary distraction, and I was okay for a while, but what he really needed was his brother.”
Marta leaned her head on Brad’s shoulder. “I understand what you’re trying to say, but Stash is gone…just gone.” A woman can only stand so much before the tears take on a life of their own.
Brad encircled her with his warm, strong, safe arms and kissed the top of her head. His chest heaved with a massively deep breath. “He’s not gone. I know where he is.”
A jolt of heat went through Marta, instantly evaporating the puddles of saline on her cheeks. “You, what?” She pulled away from Brad. “How do you know? How long have you known?”
Rubbing his sweaty hands down the sides of his pants, Brad avoided eye contact with Marta. “Well, there’s a little bit of a story behind that.”
“Shoot. I have all night.” Crossing her arms, Marta turned to face Brad. Her heart seemed to still in her chest.
“Well, where to start.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave an apologetic smile. “In my defense, he asked me not to tell you.”
“You talked to him?” Marta jumped up and spun around. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” She stopped herself before words came out that she couldn’t take back.
“Look, Marta.” Snatching up her hands, Brad held tight. “He came to me
at the restaurant one morning. Early. Must’ve been before the sun was even up. He told me to watch out for you and not let anything happen to you. Now, it’s not like I needed incentive, or anything, since I’d already been ogling you for weeks. His visit just made it that much easier.”
If anger were fire, Marta would be shooting flames out her ears. “I can’t believe he just threw me at someone like that. What does he think I am? A piece of meat?” She yanked her hands out of Brad’s. “And you! Do you think I’m some kind of prize…a piece of property that can be passed around? I belong to myself. Me, myself, and I, and I’ll choose my own lover, if you both don’t mind.”
Brad jumped up and caught her as she tore across the room toward the door. “Marta! Stop! You don’t understand.” Wrapping his arms around her, he held fast while she made a futile attempt to wiggle free. “Are you going to listen to me?”
Marta knew it was pointless to struggle, from a physical standpoint as well as a logical one. “Fine. Say what you’ve gotta say, and then I’m leaving – for good.”
Releasing his grip, Brad nodded toward the sofa. “Let’s sit.”
Just the thought of sitting down irritated her. She didn’t want to get comfortable. She wanted answers. “No, just tell me.” That’s when she caught a glimpse of what was to come; the hollowness in his eyes terrified her. “What? What is it?”
The words seemed to catch on Brad’s lips, and even as he spoke them, Marta tried to deny them. “He’s in the hospital. He’s sick, Marta. Very sick. He collapsed on me the morning he came to see me. That’s how I know where he is. Please don’t be angry. He made me promise not to tell you.” Brad shook his head. “If I’d only known you were in love with him.”
Tears blurred the room, turning everything into a colorful haze. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Kidneys. He needs a transplant.”
If time really could stand still, Marta guessed that this must be what it would feel like. A blunt and helplessness invaded every cell of her body. Images of Kyle, lifeless and bleeding, were replaced by thoughts of Stash hooked up to machines and dying.
