by Holly Hart
I roll my eyes. Fuck’s sake—drop it already!
Kate exhales forcefully. “Two weeks. Maybe a month. I don’t know. Sonia’s trying to get me into that charity show, so....” She pats Wes’s hand. “I know this is hitting you hard. If there’s anything I can—”
“You can come the fuck home!”
Kate recoils. “What the—?”
“And you can get this shit off me!” Wes flings his hands in the air. Scrubs them on his pants. Scrapes them along the bench. The price tag stays stuck to his thumb. He stares at it for a moment, eyes wet and glassy. “Goddammit!”
Carson jerks in his seat, eyes flying open. “Wes! Shit! Get ahold of yourself!”
“I can’t get this—I can’t—” He bites the wadded-up price tag off his thumb and spits it on the floor. “Like you’re all so perfect.”
Kate mutters something under her breath. She takes a long, deliberate sip of coffee, opens Wes’s book, and starts to read. Wes stands rooted to the spot, red to the eyeballs. His eyes dart between Kate and Carson. When neither makes a move to comfort him, he sits back down.
“Sorry.”
“Uh-huh....” Kate turns the page.
“I didn’t—I don’t know what came over me.” Wes sags in his seat. “I’m tired. Homesick, you know?”
“Yeah. I’m going through the same thing, remember?”
Wes winces. “Think it’s all hitting me at once. Dev, Kyle, the—my....” He waves his arms in a vague, all-encompassing gesture. “Keep thinking if I could get back to my things, my routine, my own bed, it’d somehow be all right.”
Christ. Can’t he leave well enough alone?
“I’ll do better. I swear.”
Kate shuts her book with a smack. “You can’t go to pieces, all right? I’m here for you—we all are—but you can’t do this shit.” Kate’s lips quirk upward, but her eyes stay hard. “You with me?”
“Yeah.” Wes scrunches down small. “It’s selfish, I know. Just—you’re part of my routine. Shower, breakfast, coffee at your place.... All those little normal things you don’t notice till they’re gone.”
Her expression softens. “We can still have coffee in New York.” She’s rubbing his neck now. Petting him like a cat. “It’ll be okay. And if that charity show isn’t too complicated, if Sonia can handle it...how about I look into flying back early?”
Wes nods. Sniffles. Damn it. He’s getting on my nerves. This is such vintage Wes. He’s always been like this: small and helpless. A born victim. Used to think he was sneaky, doing it for Kate’s attention, but nope. It’s just him. He’ll be next to crack, and if he takes Kate with him, so help me....
I take a deep breath. I’m being an asshole, just like Carson said. “This is what he wants, remember? Us freaking out, acting like the sky’s falling.” I jostle his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get some fast food. Soak up the last of that liquor, huh?”
The look Wes shoots me is pure venom. “Think I’ll pass on the grease. Don’t want to get sick on the plane.”
“Suit yourself.”
He mouths the words back at me, sneering. I turn my back on him—pissy little fuck.
A porter goes by on a buggy. The overhead screen updates, and updates again: our flight stays delayed. Wes pulls his knees up to his chest, the picture of misery. I’m being too tough on him. Out of all of us, he’s been hit hardest—financially, at least. Maybe legally, as well. He’s got to be scared. I should see if I can pull some strings for him when we get out of here. If we ever do. I’m starting to think we should invest in a couple of tents.
Carson offers Tic Tacs around. Kate wanders off and comes back with more coffee. No-one talks much. I’m bored out of my mind, half-dozing, when an electronic chime plays.
“That’s our flight.” Carson points at the monitor. “Looks like we’re back on.”
“Finally. I hate airports.” Wes reaches for his overnight bag. He brightens visibly as Kate scoops up his book and falls in beside him for the walk to the boarding gate.
Carson sidles up beside me. “You two have a fight?”
“Not that I know of.” I walk faster, hoping to avoid further discussion, but he matches my pace.
“Couldn’t help noticing she hasn’t looked at you since the hotel.”
I hiss through my teeth. “Whatever.” I don’t get it: she gave so freely of herself last night. Not just the sex, but... She was open. Present. Laughing with me, lying in my arms like she belonged there. Why—? Is this going to be like before?—one minute, everything’s fine; the next, she’s just...gone, for no reason?
“Oh! Butterfingers!” Wes drops his coat. Kate catches it, and I feel myself grimace. Small and helpless. Cracking around the edges. And he’s battened onto her like a limpet. Getting his crazy all over her.
“Don’t worry about him. They’re just friends.”
“That’s not—” Kate glances over her shoulder, and I lower my voice. “That’s not what I’m worried about. Look at him: he’s a mess.”
“Nah. He’s just hung over.” Carson elbows me companionably. “We had a pretty good talk last night. He’s struggling, but he’ll be okay. He has a plan. It’s mostly Matt Danbury getting him down.”
My frown deepens. “Got to be dredging up some seriously rancid memories there.”
“To put it mildly.”
I am being a prick. Hadn’t thought about how bad it got with Matt and Wes for a while. Especially the locker room thing—that was—
Wes turns around. “I, uh—first class was full, so I—” He shakes his head. “What am I trying to prove? I’m fucking broke. I’ll be in coach, so... See you on the other side.”
“I’m right there with you.” Carson holds up his ticket. “We’ll get someone to switch. Sit together.”
And that leaves me and Kate. She smiles when I sit next to her, rests her head on my shoulder during takeoff. So it’s not me she’s avoiding: it’s letting Carson and Wes in on the secret. Makes sense, if she still suspects one of them—or, more likely, someone close to one of them. That just leaves the question of why she left me in the first place, when she so clearly still cares.
I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. I’ve got time—two weeks, maybe a month. I’m not letting her slip away again. Not without some answers.
Chapter 28
Kate
* * *
I’m swimming in paranoia.
A week we’ve been back in New York, and everything’s fine. Clear skies and still waters. But sleep’s a mirage. Food turns to ash on my tongue. And everywhere I look, there’s... It’s like the world’s grown thorns. Nasty little spikes, needling at me from the shadows, leaving me scratched and bleeding.
“What’s the matter?” Max sits up in bed, voice gravelly with sleep.
“Think I’m losing my mind....”
The covers rustle as he throws them off. Seconds later, he’s behind me, arms draped over my shoulders. I don’t need to look to know he’s naked. He went to sleep that way—we both did. Instead of the usual thrill, a frisson of dread walks up my spine.
I heard it—I know I did: a tinny voice from my laptop. Rachel’s voice, haunting me across space and time: can’t tell anyone, ever. They could try us as adults. Send us to—
“Kate?”
“Hm?”
“I said, why do you think you’re losing your mind?”
I gesture helplessly at the screen. “Didn’t you—didn’t you hear....” The words die on my lips. Obviously he didn’t, or he’d be freaking out too.
Max rests his chin on my head. “Hear what?”
“My computer. There was a voice. Coming through the speakers.” I hug myself to stave off a shiver. “It was Rachel. From the lake, that night. Talking about the fire.”
“Let me sit.”
We switch places. Max taps a few keys, bringing up window after window, dismissing them all with a frown. “There’s nothing here. No new audio files; no remote connections, as far as I can
see.”
I sink down on the bed. “Told you. I’m cracking up.” My teeth are chattering. I feel sick. Even Max sitting down next to me, pulling me into the safety of his embrace doesn’t do anything to quiet my nerves. “Feels like we’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Yeah.” He’s rubbing my back, soft little circles between my shoulder blades.
“My mind’s playing tricks on me. I keep seeing—”
“What?”
“It’ll sound crazy.”
Max’s lips brush the tip of my ear. “Tell me anyway.”
“Well, yesterday at dinner, I saw this busboy. Just a glimpse as he vanished into the kitchen, but I swear he was wearing...he had Matt Danbury printed on his shirt. Only, when he came back out, it said Hard Rock Café.” I cough. There’s a lump in my throat I can’t swallow. Has been since we got back from DC.
“Anything else?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I keep thinking I hear people talking about, y’know...back then. Seeing little things out of place. I know it’s just—what do you call it when something’s on your mind, and suddenly you’re seeing it everywhere?”
“Frequency illusion, I think.” He’s playing with my hair, teasing out the tangles. “I don’t think that’s it, though. I mean, some of it might be, but I saw something too.”
A hot flush courses through me, followed by a wave of lightheadedness. I sag in Max’s arms. I open my mouth, but I can’t ask. Don’t want to know.
“It was at work.” His fingers catch on an obstinate knot. “In the middle of a meeting. I looked down at my laptop, just as I moused the screensaver away, and it said—yeah. Matt Danbury. But when I let it time out again, it was back to the usual message.”
“You think he’s fucking with us? Softening us up for the next blow?”
“I don’t know.” Max sighs. “Maybe we are imagining things. I mean, I got a spam this morning with FIRE SALE in the subject, and I thought it said...I don’t know. Something accusatory.” He gives up on detangling my hair and simply cradles the back of my head, rocking me back and forth. “It didn’t, though. It was just a regular old spam.”
Regular old spam. Right. Only, nothing’s going to be normal, nowhere’s going to feel safe, till we get out from under this shadow. I slide my arms around his waist. “I need this to be over. I need to know it’s over.”
“I know.”
Feels like the walls are closing in. “Where does Carson think you are right now?”
“Plowing my ex.”
I laugh in spite of myself. Technically, he is. They say the best lies are the ones that stick close to the truth—but this is dangerous. Carson’s still crashing at Max’s. Wes is right down the hall. We’re not being discreet.
“If he’s still out there—the blackmailer... If he finds out....” I pull back, just far enough to look Max in the eye. “He could use this against us. Make us turn on one another.”
“I wouldn’t turn on you.”
That’s what I thought, ten years ago. “What if you had to? What if he told you... What if you got another of those flash drives, and it said you had to slap me in the face? And if you didn’t, I’d go to prison, and so would you, and Carson and Wes too?”
“Then I’d leave no stone unturned. Go after him with everything I had till I dragged him into the light.”
“And if you couldn’t?”
Max gives me a long, considering look. “What kind of choice is that? Either way, you’d get hurt. And even if I came to you after—even if I threw myself at your feet and begged your forgiveness, I’d still be the man who slapped you in the face. Or sent you to prison.”
“And if I—”
“What?”
This is my chance to come clean—to find out, at last, if I can be forgiven for facing the same impossible choice and turning from him. We’ve already crossed the Rubicon: we’re in bed together. If that doesn’t fly in the face of the whole leave Max bit, I don’t know what would. Telling the truth can’t possibly make it worse.
“Ten years ago....” I pull away. Struggle to my feet. I’m cold all over, inside and out. “Wait.”
“What are you doing?”
I dig into my purse. Into the side pocket where I keep my wallet, and behind that, through the tear in the lining. I fish around till I feel brittle old paper between my fingertips.
“The night before our wedding, I...here. Read this.”
I can’t watch. I turn to the window instead. A plane soars overhead, blinking red and white. A TV flickers behind a window. Paper rustles, and Max muffles a shout behind his hand. I stand and wait, and the axe doesn’t fall. He lets out a long breath. Refolds the note. Shifts on the bed, making the springs creak. But still, he doesn’t come to me, doesn’t say a word. I can’t bear it. Ten years of silence were less gut-wrenching than this.
Say something.
“You....” His voice cracks. He shifts again, and this time, he gets up. The air seems to thicken as he takes a step closer, and another. I break out in gooseflesh, scalp crawling, stomach turning over.
I could fling myself at his feet. Beg for mercy, just like he said. But he’s right: I’d still be the woman who left him at the altar.
“You wanted to marry me?”
“More than anything.”
Max laughs, or sobs, or something in between. “I don’t know what I should be feeling right now, but.... Turn around.”
I can’t.
“Please.” He stretches out his hand, but stops short of touching me. Like in his office, that night, and didn’t that end well? “Please?”
I turn to face him.
“All this time....” He smiles. Cups my chin, at last, and when I dare to look, there’s nothing but warmth in his eyes. Nothing but...love?
I must be dreaming.
“Max?”
“You slapped me in the face.” Max kisses me, soft and chaste. “I’m furious. And ecstatic. I thought....”
“You thought—?”
“I need time to think.” He steals another kiss. Pushes my hair back from my face. His eyes are wet but warm—so warm. “I should go. I—I can’t leave you like this.”
What have I done?
His smile fades, turns pensive. “I had these dreams, after you left, where you’d come back, and there’d be some explanation—something that washed it all away, all the pain, all the questions—but that’s not how it works, is it?”
I shake my head. Of course it isn’t.
“This isn’t nothing, though.” He straightens up. A ferocious spark kindles in his eyes. “We haven’t just been fucking. Have we?”
I flinch at the challenge in his tone. “No.”
“Good.” He stands a little straighter. “No one can know about this. You’re right: he could use it against us. Would. Has.” It’s Max’s turn to turn to the window, but instead of looking out, he draws the curtains. “Swear you won’t run from me, if he tries it again.”
“I won’t.”
He clasps my hands in his, so tight it hurts. “I’d come after you this time. Demand the truth.”
“I couldn’t do it again. Once was more than I could stand.”
“Let’s get everyone together tomorrow. There has to be something we’ve missed. We’ll go after this guy. Take him out of the equation. Then, we can—”
“Take it slow, maybe? See if we...if this is something we can get past?”
“Yeah. Christ, I want it to be, but it’s so much water under the bridge.” He stares at me, shaking his head. “All these years...fuck.”
Fuck is right.
Max shakes his head slowly. All his defenses are down, and I can see it in his eyes—rage and relief; confusion and excitement—a sea of competing sentiments. He sighs. “Sleep, for now?”
That sounds good. I’m drained, physically and emotionally. All I want is to curl into his arms and pretend we’ve been married for years. That he’s willing to let me, after everything... My heart swells with gratit
ude.
I might not deserve this—I don’t—but I’ll take it. For as long as I can have it, I’ll take it. If he wakes up tomorrow and decides it’s too much to forgive, I’ll understand; I’ll let him go. But for tonight, I have the comfort of his heartbeat, his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest. And hope—I have that. Maybe he does, too.
Chapter 29
Max
* * *
This changes everything.
She lied to me. Made me hate her—no. Made me want to hate her. Ten years, I tried to hate her. And I let it show. In everything I did, in everything I was—I’ve been a dick.
That’s not all on her.
I close my eyes, but my mind’s racing. She wanted to marry me. Almost went through with it, despite everything. If I’d caught her hand instead of her veil, I might’ve changed her mind. Changed our lives.
Who would’ve wanted to bust up our wedding?
Not Carson: he didn’t give a fuck. Not Wes, either: his crush on Kate was long over. And his focus was on his dad that summer.
My dad, maybe? He wasn’t crazy about us getting hitched right out of high school. I snort at the thought of the old man going to the trouble: he could’ve refused to foot the bill—problem solved.
Kate mutters in her sleep and nuzzles into my shoulder. She didn’t trust me. Bore the burden alone, sooner than share it with me.
She bore it alone, sooner than inflict it on me.
She abandoned me. Saved me. Both—I don’t know.
My scattered thoughts give way to a vague sense of comfort as I swim close to sleep, only to turn sharp and cutting as I jerk awake. Why her, back then? Why all of us now?
Maybe it was one of Matt’s gang. Danbury made a sport of sexual harassment, and Kate was his favorite target. If he had actual feelings for her, feelings he confessed to a friend... That might explain our wedding. As for what’s going on now—I suppose the grudge might’ve held. But how would one of Matt’s crowd get the dirt on us?
