Heart in Wire

by R. L. Griffin

  Chapter Twenty

  THE BEGINNING AND THE END OF EVERYTHING

  Patrick was driving, fast, up 95 headed home. He called Billy to make sure Millie had moved out—he had no idea, since she wasn’t taking his calls. He thought back a few hours. There was so much he’d wanted to say to her, but he hadn’t said any of it. He’d only pulled her into his arms and whispered that she was his person. He wished now he’d told her he needed her as much as she needed him. They’d made love that morning; he stayed in her after they’d finished. He ran his fingertips over her face, memorizing how she looked at that moment. He’d almost confessed that he was utterly and completely in love with her and they could make it through this together. He’d almost confessed that he felt as if his heart lived in her chest. Almost.

  He cursed himself for not telling her all the things that made him love her. Her laugh, her dirty mouth, and her intelligence were just the tip of the iceberg when he thought about what he would miss if she didn’t pick him. Now he knew why people left their spouses if they found this…what they had…was it love? It felt different, uncontrollable, and he was helpless to fight against it. It was a soul stirring, conscience disappearing, dick hardening kind of love that he’d only felt when El was touching him.

  Should he have begged her to pick him? He wanted to tell her to come home, but he didn’t. He’d almost turned around ten times just to hold her tonight and whisper in her ear how much he loved her.

  Patrick hadn’t felt so at peace with a decision in his entire life; the woman he loved was safe and they would finally be together. He hadn’t even showered this morning because he wanted to smell her on him. Her legs had tangled with his while they slept, a surprising and welcome feeling. El was what he wanted, what he needed. He’d never felt this combustible just from someone touching him; she could just look at him and his dick would get hard. This is what he’d denied for five fucking years. They were finally going to get a chance. He knew she needed some time to come to grips with what they’d done, he understood that. He was still processing the fact he’d killed someone, or maybe he wasn’t processing, but ignoring that he’d killed someone. Jamie would’ve killed her, Patrick knew that, but it didn’t change the fact he put a bullet in someone that used to sneak him dip during baseball games.

  He pulled out his phone and voxed her.

  “Breaker, breaker,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.

  Nothing.

  He tried again. “El?”

  Silence.

  He wasn’t surprised, she was probably outside with Cooper. She’d been ignoring her phone anyway.

  I can’t do this without you.

  Instead of saying that, he pressed the vox button again. “Don’t make me come back to get you. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

  When he pulled in the driveway, Billy unexpectedly opened the door.

  “What’re you doing home?” Patrick asked as he walked up the stairs.

  Billy smirked. “I figured you may need someone to drink with.”

  “You are a wise, wise man, William.”

  “So, as you can see, this side of the room is newly decorated. I call it ‘police tape chic.’ And do admire the blood splatter and brains on the wall—not everyone has such modern art in their home! Though I think I may need to do some redecorating.”

  “Shit,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “Sorry, man.”

  “Hey, nothing like a little blood and brains to get my ass to Home Depot.” Billy walked into the kitchen and poured two tumblers full of whiskey.

  Patrick chuckled as he took his glass and took a tentative sip. “Now how do you know it’s going to be that bad?”

  Billy’s eyebrow raised in question. “Am I wrong?”

  “No.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m suspended in fear,” Patrick acknowledged.

  Billy cocked his head to the side in question before he turned up his drink.

  “I poured my fucking heart out, man. I mean, I’ve never done that before, told someone they were my everything. Shit, I’ve never even felt like this before.”

  “Wait…you did?”

  Patrick nodded and took a sip of his whiskey.

  “What’d she say?”

  “Not much. We did have sex for two days though.”

  Both of Billy’s eyebrows rose again at that admission. “Oh really?”

  Patrick nodded.

  “This is messy,” Billy muttered.

  “It felt like perfection,” Patrick said in a low voice. “That is, until I left and she didn’t tell me she was coming home...to me.”

  “Well, she obviously broke up with George, so where else would she go, Patrick?”

  “Way to boost my confidence, dude.”

  “I’m just being realistic.”

  “Do you think she’ll go back to him?”

  “I hope not, Patrick. For your sake, I hope not.”

  Billy refilled both of their glasses; they were in for a long day.

  The next morning, Patrick got out the shower and walked naked to his room. It was bare of the life it once had without Millie. He’d found the note she’d left him when he got back yesterday.

  Patrick,

  I’m not sure why you lied to me for so long, but you are a pretty good liar. Stella should know. I hope all your lies swallow you whole.

  It stung a bit; he knew he’d royally fucked up with Millie. She was one of the best people he knew and she didn’t deserve what he’d done to her. For over a year, he thought he’d loved her and maybe he did love her, in a way. He’d told himself he loved her. He told her he loved her. Liar. Patrick missed her glow; she was always so full of light and brought happiness with her wherever she went, even when she was cussing you out. It was nice to be in her radiance for a while, but she was right. He was a liar and a killer. Millie deserved someone better than him.

  He pulled on a cream cable-knit sweater and jeans plopped in the chair. His phone dinged.

  Headed back from home depot need anything

  Patrick shook his head with a smile; Billy was painting the front room so El wouldn’t be reminded of Jamie and what happened here. Patrick wasn’t the only one ready to get her back home.

  No

  Then he thought better of it.

  You better get more beer

  Patrick and Billy had been waiting…waiting to figure out if El was coming or not. She wasn’t answering his calls. He was hitting the end of his phone against the table, turning it over and over again, when he heard her car door slam in the driveway. He was through the door in three seconds, his heart beating out of his chest. She picked him. He’d known she would; he’d felt it in his gut. They were connected. His spirit soared with the knowledge that she was his. “El…” Her name escaped his mouth unconsciously. His.

  She’d been crying, her eyes were red, her face splotchy. He’d kiss every fucking tear away; he’d soothe her wounds like she did for him.

  As she walked up the stairs, Cooper followed, bounding up to where Patrick stood, his hands shoved in his pockets. Patrick pulled his hand out of his pocket and rubbed Cooper’s back. El stood in front of him, but wouldn’t look at him. He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, but El shook her way free from his grip. Letting her take a step back, he leaned in to kiss her. She shook her head imperceptibly and Patrick stilled. His entire world incinerated right before his eyes. All the hope he’d had a few seconds ago dissipated like a puff of smoke.

  “El?” Why was she here if she wasn’t choosing him? Patrick grabbed her hands to make sure she was real and this wasn’t a nightmare.

  “I can’t,” she barely whispered. If they hadn’t been only inches apart, he wouldn’t have heard her.

  “What?” His voice betrayed him, evidencing his heartache. He willed his eyes not to follow suit.

  “I’m…going to George’s.” Her voice was clipped and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  Silence.

  He d
idn’t know what to say, then a tear slipped from her eye and it enraged him. She was the one doing this—she didn’t get to cry about it.

  “Tell me you don’t love me.” His voice shook with the emotion he was trying to control. She wouldn’t look at him.

  “Fucking look at me!” His voice rose. “El!” he yelled and she flinched away from him, trying to get her hands out of his grasp. “Oh, you think I’m going to make it that easy? Just let you come here and say ‘I can’t’? Tell me you don’t love me, El.” Patrick jerked her forward, causing her body to crash into his. “TELL ME!” He was going to lose her; he couldn’t lose her. She was his everything, his beginning and end. He was nothing without her. The realization caused his legs to buckle and he fell to his knees. “Look at me and fucking tell me you don’t feel it. Feel this thing, this pull between me and you. I love you, El, and I’m pretty fucking sure you love me too.”

  She continued to cry. “I-I can’t,” she stammered.

  “You can’t what?” His voice shook with indignation. “You can’t what?!” He was yelling now. “El. You can’t what?!”

  Finally, she looked at him. She tentatively reached toward him, but then pulled her hand back. “I can’t tell you that I don’t love you, Patrick.”

  What the fuck? She loves me but she’s still leaving me for George? How is this possible?

  “Then come home,” he pleaded. “Come to our room. I already bought a new bed and new sheets.” He put his palms on her hips; he wanted to be inside her right now, she had to know this is where she needed to be.

  “Patrick, I love George too.”

  He felt all the air escape his body like she’d punched him in the fucking gut, or the dick, but worse, it felt like something he would never come back from. Patrick’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped. “Please, El, don’t do this,” he begged.

  “I do love you,” she whispered. El stepped back, but Patrick grabbed her by her thighs, not letting her go. He buried his face in her stomach and let her shirt soak up his tears.

  “Stay with me…” Please. “Love me…trust me,” he urged into her. “El, please…” I can’t do this without you.

  El began sobbing and tears flooded down her face. She lowered herself to her knees so they were face to face. Patrick wanted to kiss her, but she started shaking.

  “You told me nothing would change, Patrick.” She barely got the words out, and they were weighed down with regret. “You better not have lied to me again.”

  Patrick shook his head in disbelief. She gently put both of her hands on the back of his head and sighed, letting the tears flow. Please just kiss me. All of sudden, like a switch had been flipped, she froze and began to frantically untangle herself from him.

  “I have to go.” El ran down to her car, away from him. “Cooper!” she yelled, and Cooper, who had been circling them both, made a break for El’s car.

  Patrick was on his knees, tears forming and falling without any resistance from him. His future just walked away from him. It didn’t matter how many breaths he took, he couldn’t breathe. He put his hands down on the front porch and fought to hold everything in. He’d just watched the love of his life drive off to the man she loved.

  El had hurt him more than anyone had ever hurt him. He hadn’t felt this crushed since that day in Georgia when his entire family’s life changed. He sat back on his heels and stared at the road. She picked George. His El had picked George. Even after everything he’d done for her, she’d picked fucking George. Bitch. His head hung in devastation.

  Billy cracked the door and looked out at Patrick on his knees. “Hey, man. Where’s El?”

  Patrick shook his head, not saying anything. He couldn’t speak, worried if he did, he’d lose his shit.

  “I brought you a beer.” Billy stepped out and handed Patrick a beer. “I believe tonight calls for getting you drunk and getting you laid.”

  “I just want to get drunk.”

  “That’s the easiest request that’s ever been made.” Billy walked back in the house, leaving Patrick on the porch guzzling beer on his knees.

  Patrick looked one more time at the road. El. She’d fucked him multiple times this past week and was going back to George. She told Patrick she loved him, but drove away from him after ripping his fucking heart out.

  He closed his eyes and saw another set of taillights leaving. He’d been fifteen when his father left him, his sister, brother, and mother. Katrina had clung to his father’s leg as he walked out of their house for the last time. She’d cried and begged, but Patrick was stoic and stone-faced—his father wouldn’t see how his leaving affected him. His father would never know that leaving his family while they were in chaos caused Patrick to shut down and not let anyone in. His father would never know anything about the man he became.

  When he opened his eyes, the street was empty and he shook the memories of the two people he loved leaving him away. He pushed himself off the ground and walked into the house. Arrogantly or stupidly, he’d been so sure that El was coming back to him that he’d talked Billy into redoing the entire front of the house so as not to remind El of that night. Overconfident, he’d already ordered and had a new bed delivered. He’d called and ordered it while they were at the beach.

  He had planned for them to have a fresh start. Together.

  Stunned with his new reality, he stood in the kitchen numbly, not really knowing what to do with himself. “She…”

  Billy put two beers on the counter. “Stop. Before we talk about El, we’re going to drink four beers each.” Billy opened his beer and drank half of it. “Go,” he said, pointing at the beer.

  Patrick took the beer and chugged it. Billy put two more on the counter. He continued this process until they both downed their fourth beers.

  Patrick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So…she’s going back to George.”

  “Do you think George will take her back?” Billy placed two more beers on the counter. “I mean, she left him and had sex with you all week.”

  Patrick took a gulp of beer. “I doubt she’s going to tell him that we fucked all week.”

  “You don’t think he’ll find out?”

  “Well, the only people that know are you, me, and her, and I think it’s pretty clear we can keep secrets,” he admitted with a smirk.

  “True,” Billy said, clicking his beer bottle with Patrick’s. He cleared his throat. “You okay?”

  “I’m pretty sure no.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “I’m leaving,” Patrick said as he walked to the fridge and grabbed two more beers.

  “Leaving?” Billy asked, surprised.

  “Yep, I put in for a transfer a few weeks ago. I’ll let them know tomorrow I’m going to take it.”

  “Holy shit, dude.” Billy set his beer down on the counter, hard, not caring that it foamed up and over the top. “Where?”

  “Atlanta.” He walked over to the den and sat down. “I’ll be in the field more than on the desk. I need to get my mind occupied with things not El.”

  “Okay.” Billy sat down, looking a little dazed. “When do you think you’ll leave?”

  “Two weeks. They told me I had the transfer if I wanted and the date a while back, I just didn’t know if I would take it until now.”

  “Nothing like a heartbreak to get you to move from DC.”

  “Heartbreak seems like a stupid thing to call what I feel. You can fix a break. I feel like she shredded my fucking chest. I mean, my chest actually hurts.”

  “Dude. I’m sorry.”

  “It is what it is.” Patrick drained his beer and got up to get another. “I plan on getting so fucking drunk I won’t remember what happened on that porch today. That’s my fucking plan.”

  Patrick braced himself in the shower, his arms on either side of the showerhead. He was drunk, like he and Billy had consumed an entire case of beer and a fifth of whiskey drunk. They’d been drinking for seven hours straight. His head was swi
mming with his reality. He’d murdered his friend for the woman he loved and she’d left him. She’d looked him in the eyes and picked someone else. Jamie. El. Jamie. El. His brain pounded with alcohol, loss, and pain. The wire that squeezed his heart was painful on a normal day, but he’d punctured it and now he was bleeding the fuck out.

  He watched, mesmerized as the water ran down his back and over his head, which hung low between his shoulders, falling between his feet and circling the drain. He’d never felt so wrecked. Not wrecked in the manner that he could be repaired, but wrecked as in totaled. Patrick needed to cut his losses and move on. He’d emailed Kevin that he was taking the transfer when he was only six beers in. Kevin responded that he’d start in Atlanta in two weeks. His new assignment would have him in the field instead of sitting behind a desk, thinking of her. It was the best he could do right now.

  He’d done what he’d told her he’d do, he’d protected her. She’d be dead if it weren’t for him. Patrick hadn’t allowed himself to feel emotions since his dad left, and now he felt like he couldn’t keep any emotions in. In the privacy of the shower, he let out all of the pent up everything he had in his chest, his brain, and his heart. Sobs wracked through his body as he let them all out. The tears mixing with the water were washed away along with the hope he’d ever feel the happiness he’d felt the past few days again.

  He couldn’t do this again. He wouldn’t cry for her again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  WHY THE LIES?

  Patrick lowered the door on the moving truck and locked it, made sure his beloved Audi was secured on the trailer, and took a look back at the house. He had to leave, it was the only way he could be okay, but he couldn’t help the sadness at leaving that house, where he had so many good memories, and this city, where his best friend lived and where he’d built his own life.

  Billy closed the door behind him and locked it. “We ready?” he asked, hopping down the stairs. Billy’s sloppy blondish hair was hidden by his dark grey wool cap, which was pulled down to his brown eyes, framed by his Clark Kent glasses. He looked annoyingly cheerful for a long road trip.