Igniting the Wild Sparks

by Alexander, Ren

  After a small amount of silence, she whispers, “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. Fuck. Please, don’t do this to me, Becks.” I gasp from the sharp pain surging through me at the thought of losing her because of my fucking stupidity. “Please don’t break up with me on the phone,” I plead. “At least do it in person.” So I can desperately beg you on my knees not to.

  “Finn...” She’s trying not to cry more, but her strained voice belies her anguish. She tearfully says, “I’ll always love you beyond, Sparks.” She hangs up and I roughly bounce my head against the headrest. I’m her Sparks. She’s my Becks. She can’t fucking do this.

  She was on her knees, giving me an ultimatum of the worst kind: Marry me or lose me.

  And I kicked her in the stomach and left her to bleed.

  Throughout the rest of the workday, I run through the gamut of moods, except for happiness. That one’s lost on me. By the time I’m on camera, I’m lethargic from the sips of the Jim I kept hidden in my desk in a water bottle. It’s a good thing I’m not conducting an interview or doing The Wild Side because I’m totally not here.

  I want to call Becks’ dad to see if she’s okay, but if I did, he would never in a million years confirm if she’s there. He’s going to protect his little girl from me. Too bad he didn’t do a good job of that in the emergency room.

  As I hand Cara my mic she asks, “You still heading to Montrose?”

  I curtly say, “No.” Thanks for reminding me.

  “So, it’s okay if I come with you?”

  I debate whether I still should take her to my place. I’m in no mood for company, but I can’t be a complete asshole to everyone around me. Just Becks. Fuck me.

  I shrug and head to my office with her following me. “Whatever.”

  Unlocking my desk drawer, I check my phone. No messages from Becks. Why should she leave me one?

  I testily glance up at Cara. She grins and says, “I’ll make you smile.”

  “Not likely.”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  As we leave the office, I resentfully roll my eyes behind her. Why in the hell did I agree to her hanging around me? All I want to do is drink the bottle of Jack I bought the other day; drinking tonight until I forget who I am and what I’ve done.

  We take the elevator down to the lobby and walk out to my car. Cara babbles on about some vacation she’s going to be taking. I don’t care what the hell she’s going to be doing. The only woman whose whereabouts I care about is shredding my heart from 153 miles away, if I’m right about her being at her dad’s.

  The ride to my apartment is quiet. Cara texts her roommate to give her my address, so she can pick her up later. I could be a nice guy and offer to take her back to the station to meet her roommate, but I honestly am not feeling that charitable tonight.

  I unlock my door and throw my keys haphazardly on the counter. She asks, “Are you okay? You seem worse than this morning.”

  Not giving an answer to her question, I deflect as I take off my gray suit jacket. “Do you want a drink?”

  “I’ll take a beer if you have one.”

  “Yep.” I toss my jacket onto a chair and go to the fridge as she leans against the bar.

  Popping the top off, I hand her the bottle. “So, you really do like all kinds of sports,” she observes, looking around my living room.

  I take a swig of my beer and say, “Yeah. There’s some I don’t care for, but most of them I enjoy.”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  I walk to the couch as I loosen my tie and she follows me. “I like the outdoors. Baseball, soccer, skydiving, snowboarding, and riding my dirt bike are the big ones.”

  “Skydiving? You actually like doing that?”

  I mumble, “I love it.” Though, it’s a touchy subject for me at the moment.

  “Does it scare you?”

  “No. Ricky does it, too. We do most shit together.” I cross my ankle over my knee and take a drink, while she looks at the pictures hanging on the walls or sitting on the entertainment center.

  “I’ve gathered that from all these pictures in here of the two of you.” She doesn’t comment on the pictures of me with someone else. “Hmm. Snowboarding? Are you any good?”

  I shrug. “Not that great, I guess, since I’ve broken a wrist, an ankle and two ribs from doing it. Ricky’s better at it than me.”

  “So, it’s a lot of fun?”

  “Well, yeah. I actually have pictures from our last trip. They’re on my laptop. I’ll get it and show you.”

  “Okay.”

  I set my beer down and go to my bedroom, since I used my computer in there last, sliding my tie off as I go. I need a distraction, anything to keep me from giving in and talking more about what’s bothering me. I don’t need Cara to see me lose it. The last time I came close to crying in front of someone was when I was with Ricky, and that was in the dark in the back of his cruiser, but I stopped before I was full-on blubbering like a damn baby. Nobody will ever see me doing that shit.

  I pick up my computer from the chair in the corner and when I turn around, Cara is in the doorway. Feeling annoyed that she’s in my room, I irritably gripe, “I was going to bring it out to you.”

  “Oh. We can sit in here, if that’s okay.” She looks around as she walks over to my bed. “I can see how much you love baseball and soccer now.”

  “Um, yeah.”

  She takes a seat on my bed and I stand next to it, feeling uncomfortable and more irritated with her sitting there. It feels like she’s infringing on the sanctity of Becks’ and my love by being in here, as crazy, or cheesy—like Becks called me—as that sounds.

  She pats my blue comforter. “Sit.”

  My gaze falls behind her where Becks and I have made love countless times—her caramel hair falling over me while her hands were in mine, my hands on her hips as her tight warmth surrounded me; confessing our love to each other before our mouths fought for domination and our bodies sent us to another place together. Her remark at the beach suddenly slams into me. “At least you got laid one last time!” No. It couldn’t have been our last time.

  “Finn, you’re not okay. What happened?”

  I haul my eyes away from the bed and the memories to look at the woman, who is not my Becks, sitting on our bed. I grit my teeth until my jaw crackles. “I can’t, Cara.”

  “Can’t what? You can tell me. Please sit.”

  “I can’t talk about it.” My eyes fall to her green, low-cut blouse and then back up to her smile.

  “You need to talk to someone. Come on.” She nods her head to the mattress. “Sit down.”

  Indecisive, yet deciding I don’t want to argue anymore, I put my laptop down at the end of the bed and robotically sit, but keeping a distance from her. I lean forward with my elbows on my thighs, clasping my hands, glancing down at the floor as I unwillingly splutter, “She’s breaking up with me.”

  “She is? Where is she? You talked to her?”

  I say to the carpet, “Yeah. I think she’s at her dad’s in Annapolis.”

  “I’m sorry she’s doing this to you.”

  “It’s all my fault.”

  “No, it’s not.” Cara shifts closer to me. “Do you think it’s because of Greg Rodwell?”

  “No. She swore to me she doesn’t love him. They’re only friends. I have to believe her.”

  “I don’t know. They seem like they’re more than friends.”

  “She promised me they’re not having an affair.”

  “You don’t think he’s the reason she’s breaking up with you?”

  “No. It’s nothing to do with him. I hurt her.”

  “She’s hurting you, too. She doesn’t seem to care.” I briefly glance up at her and she waves her hand at me. “Look at you. You’re a fucking mess.”

  I look to the floor and mutter, “I deserve it.” Cara grabs my jaw and forces me to look at her. “No, you don’t. I can see the pain in your eyes. She broke your heart.” />
  She drops her hand and I finally concede, “Yes, she did. She only wants to stay with me if we get married. She gave me an ultimatum.”

  She sympathetically frowns. “I’m here for you, Finn. Whatever you need me to do to help you.” Her hand goes to my inner leg. “What can I do?”

  Looking back to the floor, I move my leg away, but it doesn’t knock her hand off. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “I can try to help you, if you let me.”

  I marginally shake my head. “You can’t.”

  “If Hadley’s having an affair with Greg, don’t you want to hurt her like she’s hurting you?”

  “She’s not cheating on me.” I do believe her.

  “Do you know that for sure? They’re really close friends. She even spent days in another state with him. Who knows what they were doing. I wonder where she slept.”

  Clenching my teeth, I glare at her and growl, “Stop.” Cara’s hand creeps up, but I still haven’t told her to move it.

  Shaking her head, she sighs. “I hate how they’re making you look like a clueless victim.”

  I object through my teeth, “I’m not a victim.”

  “I think everyone on the team suspects them. They’re all coworkers. They know what goes on. I’ve heard murmurings about Hadley’s and Rod’s behavior. They all feel bad at how weak it makes you look.”

  “Weak?” She nods and I snap, “I’m not weak, either.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re strong. She doesn’t deserve you.” Her fingers brush over my zipper. I glance down at her hand and then up to her face, my mounting anger falling by the wayside as bafflement pervades me.

  I suspiciously ask, “What are you doing?” I’m pretty sure I know, but then again, I can’t comprehend her tenacity.

  “I want to make you feel better. I want to help Finn Wilder exact his revenge.”

  I shove her hand off me. “I’m not cheating on my girlfriend.”

  “How can you cheat on her if she broke up with you?”

  I swallow through the agony suffocating me, and whisper, “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t care what she told you about Rod. I think something happened between them.”

  I accused Becks of fucking Greg Rodwell and she said she’s not. Oh, shit. Am I stupid to think she wouldn’t lie to me when I lied to her about the skydiving?

  Looking at Cara, the horror slithers in. I peer over to the nightstand to the pictures of Becks and me. We were so happy and so deeply in love. I thought we were. At least I was. Could she really be cheating on me and lying about it, while throwing tantrums about me lying to her? I’ve been hiding the skydiving, but I don’t think having an affair behind my back justifies that.

  No. I trust Becks. I determinedly maintain, “No. She wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “Even if she isn’t, she’s still throwing you away, Finn. She broke up with you because she wants you to be someone you’re not. To do something you don’t want. To give up your life for her. She doesn’t want to give you anything in return, and she’s not getting her way, so she’s dumping you. I think you’re perfect the way you are. She doesn’t appreciate that.” Cara leans against me and her hands move to my belt buckle of my gray pants.

  My hands clamp onto her wrists to stop her and I growl, “No. I love her.”

  Slanting her head, she looks up at me. “She doesn’t love the real you. She wants to fulfill her own desires, forgetting about yours. She only wants you on her own terms. She doesn’t give a fuck what you want. She wants to trap you in a marriage that you don’t want, and since you don’t want it, she’s getting rid of you like you’re yesterday’s sports scores. Fuck that. Let me take care of you. Let me help you get over her.”

  I torpidly stare at Cara, letting go of her wrists. Becks has left me. She pitched our love into the fucking trash because I’m not giving in, only wanting me if I marry her. Anything less is unacceptable. I have to be her husband in order for her to love me, not loving me just for being me. I wanted to marry her…maybe someday; however, she doesn’t have to be my wife. Legal or not, I’ll eternally love her no matter what she is to me. Though I guess in her eyes, our love does have an expiration date.

  Becks, how can you destroy my heart like this? My life?

  “Let me help you relax. You’ll be able to think clearer tomorrow.” Cara pushes on my chest and I involuntarily recline back, not having the strength to protest any longer. I feel like a damn zombie. All I can think about is how Becks doesn’t want me anymore. My Becks. She asked me to marry her and I told her no. Now, she wants to end our love like these past three years have meant not a fucking thing to her. I know I broke her heart, but she broke mine by saying we can’t work it out. Her love is conditional upon only if I become her husband. She won’t love me as her boyfriend or even if she can call me her fiancé. She thinks I’m nothing but a waffling asshole that refuses to grow up because I won’t sign a piece of paper and say “I do” in front of a shit ton of people I don’t know.

  That’s what my brain tells me.

  My heart, on the other hand, wants to fight for her until I’m bruised and bloody. Until my final breath on Earth. I should beg her to marry me, but now, she’d just laugh in my face, as she should. At any rate, I know she’s better off without me.

  When she disembowels me, will it be Mortal Kombat and I instantaneously die in a heap of bones as Becks cheers over me in victory?

  Still, I love her. Fuck! I love her! I will always, always love Hadley Beckett. My Becks. I just wish she loved me as unconditionally as I love her.

  As Cara works on my fly, I look up at the ceiling. My body belongs to Becks… it did. I want to stop Cara, but my arms won’t move and my voice is gone. I can’t even breathe. I shouldn’t let her do this, but I can’t be without Becks even more, and that’s unquestionably happening since I turned down her proposal. She doesn’t want me now.

  I don’t even deserve her if she did.

  Becks, I love you so much. Baby, I need you. I always will. Always…

  Imagining it’s Becks’ touch, my vision begins to blur, so I close my eyes. Becks… She’s all I see and she’ll be forever in my heart.

  My numb body slowly begins to unfaithfully respond amid my raging thoughts. I don’t want to do this with Cara, but I don’t want to feel the excruciating misery incinerating me alive in my chest. I have to do something to get rid of the torture. Please just take the pain away. Whatever it takes. I’m dying. Don’t let me think anymore. Make me forget for now because tomorrow, it’s going to hit me like a speeding bullet.

  I am weak.

  God, help me. Forgive me.

  My Becks…

  I love you.

  I can’t do this.

  Fuck.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Here, pumpkin pie.” my dad says, handing me a glass of lemonade. I mechanically take it from him, setting it on the small glass table next to my rocking chair on the back porch. It’s early Monday afternoon. I’ll have to leave soon because I’m out of vacation days. I haven’t talked to Finn since I left the beach, though, he’s been calling me nonstop, leaving me 29 messages—well, that’s what my phone claims. That total could be a little off. I haven’t spoken to Morgan, Rod or Val yet, either. Rod’s calls have also been numerous. I know they’re all worried, but I honestly don’t want to brag about me being an absolute idiot.

  “Thanks,” I feebly mumble, not really wanting a drink or a talk; although, I feel like the lemonade should come with a disclaimer that a lecture is imminent.

  He sighs and takes a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the table. “Hadley, please tell me what happened. You show up here at 4:30 Sunday morning, but you won’t say why. You won’t talk to me. All you want to do is sit out here. Did you and Finn have an argument?” An argument. I guess you could call it that.

  I watch the leaves flutter on the trees in my dad’s wooded backyard. I grew up here. I loved playing in the trees with my brother,
but this doesn’t feel like home to me anymore. My home is a state away, persistently calling me.

  “What happened?” he asks again, his craggy voice is soft and comforting. I tighten my folded arms around me and hesitantly peer over at him. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. Adam Beckett. My dad. He’s tall and thin. I definitely lost out on that lottery. My brother lucked out, though. I was born when my dad was in his early 20’s, so he’s still a young dad to me, and he’s still boyish-looking, even with his bushy, brown hair, heavily peppered with gray. If he’d color it and shave off his light, graying beard, he’d look even closer to me in age. There have been so many times when I’ve been with him that people remarked that he’s too young to be my father, or that we look like brother and sister. His youthful handsomeness comes close to rivaling Finn’s baby face. Sparks…

  “I think we’re over, Dad.” I unwind my arms and cover my face with my hands. Vaguely, I hear him get up, and he puts his arms around my shoulders from behind my chair.

  “Baby doll, I’m so sorry,” he gently says over my head, which only makes me cry harder. I love my dad. I miss his hugs. Finn would be a good dad like mine is. Oh, Finn…

  Dad says again, “Talk to me.”

  “I’m an idiot!” I cry. “I thought he would… I didn’t think…” I sniff and rub my nose with the back of my hand as my dad hangs above me. I summarily eek out, “I asked Finn to marry me and he said no!”

  “You did?”

  I avidly nod, shaking the white chair and his arms as I do. “I bought him a ring and I got down on my knee because I knew he’d never truly do it. He might have, but he wouldn’t have meant for us to really get married.”

  “Did you do it because of what I said to you about getting married?”

  “No. I already had bought him the ring and was planning to do it when I talked to you. I’ve wanted to marry him since our first date, when I fell in love with him. I love him so much, Dad.” I again quiver with sobs and my dad moves around my chair to kneel down in front of me. I only saw Finn on his knee for me once, but his rainy proposal wasn’t even going to be real.