Say You'll Stay

by Michaels, Corinne

  Say You’ll Stay

  Copyright © 2016 Corinne Michaels

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-942834-18-2

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written consent of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.

  Editor:

  Lisa Christman, Adept Edits

  Proofreading:

  Ashley Williams, Adept Edits

  Interior Design and Formatting:

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  www.perfectlypublishable.com

  Cover Design:

  Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  www.okaycreations.com

  Cover photo © Josh Norris Studio

  www.joshnorrisstudios.com

  Table of Contents

  Say You'll Stay

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Letter to the Reader

  Books by Corinne Michaels

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  To the love that let me go so I could find the one worth holding on to.

  And to my father, who showed me the kind of man I don’t want in my life. You may not have thought I was good enough for you, but it was you who wasn’t good enough for me.

  “The rain will stop, the night will end, and the hurt will fade. Hope is never so lost that it can’t be found.”

  —Mandy Hale

  “W HY DON’T YOU HEAD HOME, Presley? I can close up,” Angie offers from behind the counter.

  We run a small cupcake shop in Media, Pennsylvania. It’s been a long few days with our two bakers being sick. I’ve worked almost forty hours in three days, and I’m beyond tired. Angie doesn’t bake, but she runs the business side of things, which means I’ve had to fill in both spots by myself.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She laughs. “Now go before I call Todd and make him drag you out.”

  “You’re lucky I love you.”

  She kisses my cheek. “I love you more, even if you drive me nuts with your need for perfection.”

  Angelina, or Angie as we all call her, is my sister-in-law and former college roommate. My husband is her brother, who I fell in love with when he was there for me during a dark time in my life. Of course, at first she didn’t love the idea of us dating, but she came around when she saw how well we fit together.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” I grab my coat and head to my car before I find a reason to stick around.

  I call my house, but the boys don’t answer. I picture Logan with his headphones on, playing some mindless game, and Cayden refuses to move for anything. It’s a daily adventure with those two. It’s hard to believe they’ll both be in middle school next year. It feels like they were infants only yesterday.

  The machine beeps, and I pray one of them or my husband hears it. “Hey boys, I’m on my way home. I hope your homework is done. I’d like to maybe go out for dinner? Love you! Oh, and Todd . . . don’t forget to call your mother, she’s called eight times this week.”

  I turn out of the lot and head to where I’m sure chaos is in full effect. We own a beautiful row home about ten minutes from the bakery. His parents moved to Florida to escape the cold winters, and there was no way in hell I was moving back to Tennessee after college. I’d have to be dragged there in cuffs. So, my in-laws sold it to us after we got married. We gutted it, and now it’s everything I could want. The remodel ended up costing more than buying a new place, but we wanted to live here.

  Once I park, I check myself quickly. My face is covered in various baking products, and thanks to the bowl of flour I sent flying earlier today, my dark brown hair is sprinkled with white powder. Typical day.

  “Hello?” I call out as I enter the house. Papers are thrown around, shoes are left where they landed, and coats are dropped right where the boys walked in. I swear, getting anyone to hang something up is like pulling teeth. “Boys! Clean this mess!” I yell, but no one responds.

  I walk toward the family room where, exactly as I assumed, they’re playing a game with their headphones on. I lift one side off each of their ears. “Hey!”

  “Mom!” they both grumble. “We’re playing a game.”

  “I see that. How about you play clean the hallway? I think that sounds like a fun game.” I smile and kiss them each on the cheek, which grants me another protest. “Aww, don’t you want your Mommy—”

  “Stop!” They pause the game and jump up. “You love to embarrass us,” Logan complains.

  “It’s my mission in life.” I shrug. “Where’s your dad?”

  “We haven’t seen him since we got home. I guess he’s upstairs.”

  “Go clean up, and then we’ll talk about how school was.” I point to the door as they drag their feet.

  Mama always said boys are easier. Maybe having only one is, but twins are a whole new world of fun. They use the other to bargain for what they want. Todd and I are always on our toes. That being said, I have no doubt that being a parent is the most rewarding job in the world.

  “Babe?” I call toward the bedroom.

  No answer.

  “Todd! I’m home.”

  He’s probably in his office or on the phone. We have a relationship that all our friends envy. No matter what obstacles we face, we have each other. He’s truly the most loving and caring man I’ve ever met. He’s never strayed or been anything but supportive. When I said that Angie and I wanted to open the store, he didn’t blink. We took out loans, and he stood behind me. I know that I can always count on him. He loves me more than I deserve.

  I climb the stairs but don’t see him in the office or the boys’ room.

  “Babe, are you here?” I ask again with no response. “Todd?” I look around the bedroom, but he’s not here.

  I walk toward the bathroom. “Hun, are you in here? You can at least answer me.” I laugh and open the door.

  My body goes still.

  My heart shatters.

  My world crumbles.

  “No!” I scream, rushing toward him. His body hangs limp on a rope tied to the beam in the ceiling. His lips are blue, eyes bloodshot, and there’s not a sound coming from him. “God, no!” I grab his legs, trying to hold him up as my body shakes. I need to get him down. Fear grips me as I use all my strength to keep him from hanging.

  He doesn’t respond or move. “Todd, please. You can’t. Why?” I cry as tears fall relentlessly. I fight with everyth
ing I have to wake him.

  I need to call 911, but I know. I know with everything inside me that it’s too late. There’s no sound of breathing. No movement. I can’t save him. He’s gone. But I refuse to give up. I rush to the other room and grab the phone.

  I fumble as I dial, and my hands shake so hard I can barely press the buttons. As the call goes through, I return to trying to bring him back to me.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “M-my husband!” I scream into the receiver as I keep trying to hold him. “He tried . . . I mean, I t-think he’s d-dead. He’s not breathing.”

  “Okay, ma’am, remain calm and tell me your address?”

  I rattle off what I hope is the correct address. I can’t see as the tears blind me. “How could you leave me?” I sob as my arms cramp. “He’s not breathing!” I tell the operator frantically. I hoist him up as much as I can with one arm and press my fingers to his wrist, but I feel nothing.

  “Ma’am, can you tell me what happened?”

  I’d like to know the same thing. He would never do this to me and the boys. Yet, here I stand with my arms around his legs and his lifeless body. My chest aches as I think of Logan and Cayden unaware of what’s happening. “He’s h-hanging. I can’t get him down. I’m trying to push up, but I-I . . .” Every part of me breaks apart as I say the words. Then it hits me. “Oh, God.” I shake even harder. “My boys. They’re in the house. They don’t know,” I explain to the 911 operator.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Presley. Presley Benson.”

  “Okay, Presley. I’m Donna, and I’m going to stay on the line with you until the police and paramedics arrive. Is he moving at all?” Donna asks.

  “No. He’s not moving. He’s not waking up. He . . . he’s . . . I can’t let the boys see this.”

  “Is he breathing or making any sounds?”

  I shake my head as I hear her words but can’t respond. This can’t be real. This is just a fucking dream. There’s no way this is real. Wake up, Presley . I shake my head, but nothing changes.

  “Presley, are you there?”

  “He’s not breathing. He has no pulse,” I say as the fear sharpens every nerve in my body. I’m breaking apart as the words spill from my mouth.

  She talks as I fall back on my heels. “Take a few deep breaths. Can you have your children open the door for the police?”

  “No.” I have to protect them. He’s dead. My husband of thirteen years just took his own life. “They can’t see this. I can never let them see him like this.”

  Why would he do this? How am I going to tell them? How? I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough.

  “All right, Presley, I need you to open the front door. The officers are almost there.”

  “My boys. I-I have to . . .”

  “Go to the front door, shield the boys as much as you can. They’ll be there in less than three minutes. Can you do that?”

  Can I do anything?

  Can I move?

  Tears fall as I release my arms. “Why, Todd?” I whisper. A sob erupts from my chest as I stand there unable to move. “Why?”

  “Are you still there?” Donna asks.

  “I’m here. I can’t breathe. They can’t see him like this. He’s just . . .”

  “I know, Presley. Take a deep breath, help is almost there. Can you go downstairs and bring them to a neighbor?”

  I fall to the ground. My knees hit the unforgiving floor, but it’s nothing compared to the pain in my chest. I sit, unmoving, as my life falls apart. I have to think of those precious boys whose lives are about to be altered. The only thing I can do is be certain they’re protected. I wipe my face and try to pull myself together as much as I can.

  “I’m heading there now.”

  “Okay, I’ll remain on the phone with you until the officer arrives if you’d like.”

  Right now, Donna is the only person that knows. If I disconnect the call, then this is it. It’s irrational and ridiculous, but once this call disconnects . . . it’s all real. “Please. I can’t do this alone.”

  “Of course. I’m right here. You’re not alone, Presley.”

  I manage to lift myself off the floor. My feet somehow move forward. I head to the living room, and Logan looks up.

  “Mom?” He stands.

  “I need you boys to go out the back and knock on Mrs. Malgieri’s door. Play with Ryan until I come get you,” I instruct on autopilot. My eyes close as I fold my arm around my torso.

  Logan rushes over. He’s always been my more sensitive soul. This is going to crush him. “What’s wrong?”

  I place my hand against his cheek as a tear falls. “You and Cayden go, and I’ll be there in a bit.” My voice cracks as the pain rips through me. My boys. My sweet, innocent, and loving boys will never be the same. Cayden’s eyes well as I’m sure he hears the pain in my words.

  “You’re doing great, Presley,” Donna encourages. “They’re one minute out.”

  “You’re scaring me, Mom.” He looks at me with his big, green eyes.

  “I need to handle something and you don’t need to be here.” I fight back the sob building inside me, knowing that my children are about to be destroyed.

  Logan’s arms encircle my middle, and Cayden pulls him back. “Is it Dad?” he asks.

  “Go! Now!” I’m no longer able to maintain my composure. I just need them to go. I know I’ve scared them, and I can see they’re freaking out inside, but I can’t catch my breath. “I’m sorry. I need you both to get up right now and go over to Ryan’s house.”

  “Come on, Logan, let’s go.” Cayden has always been more perceptive. He reads between the lines and can often see things that most kids his age can’t.

  There’s no fooling them. My face must be red and my eyes swollen from crying. Cayden stares at me as my chin quivers. “We’re going to be okay.”

  “Mom?” Logan asks as I can no longer hold back the tears.

  A tear falls from Cayden’s face as I pull them into my arms. “I love you.”

  I stare at them, praying I can find a way to make this okay. Reluctantly they release me and head out the back door. I watch them go and cry. I cry for them. For me. And for how much pain this is going to cause them.

  When they disappear from my view, I walk to the front door and open it. The police car approaches, lights blazing, and the hollowness swallows me.

  “P RESLEY!” ANGIE CALLS OUT AS she enters the house. I’m sitting on the couch where I’ve been for the last forty minutes. The police called Angie and asked her to come before they had even finished taking my statement. I went over everything I knew, and they handed me tissues as I struggled with my agony. The paramedics are upstairs taking care of the body.

  She rushes forward. “Ang?” I stare at her, watching the fear in her eyes. My heart breaks knowing I’m about to tear her world apart.

  “Is it the boys?”

  I shake my head.

  “No!” She sinks next to me as I pull her into my arms. “Oh, God,” Angie cries and we cling to each other.

  I lean back as she wipes her eyes. “I don’t . . . I don’t know how to tell you this.” It’s so much worse.

  “Tell me what?”

  “He . . . he . . . he hung himself.” My chest heaves as I say the words aloud.

  “No, no, no, no,” she says over and over. “Why? How? No! He would never! You’re lying!”

  “He did.”

  Her eyes fill with confusion. “No. You’re wrong!” Angie stands and moves around. “Not Todd. He loves you. He loves those boys more than anything. I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t do this!”

  I don’t really believe it either. “I wish I was lying. I wish this was a bad dream, but it’s not. He . . . he . . .” My breaths come in small bursts as I struggle to inhale. This is too much. “I saw him h-h-hanging f-from the bathroom beam!” I scream and sob hysterically. “I’m not lying! I’m . . . I’m . . .”

  The officer
that sits beside me grips my shoulders and instructs me to inhale slowly. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. I repeat this process until I’m not on the verge of a panic attack.

  Angie cries with me, letting out her own sounds of devastation. We clutch each other and mourn the loss of a man we love.

  Twenty minutes later, just as Angie and I have settle together and calmed into quiet weeping, the paramedics appear on the staircase. A black bag lies on the gurney, holding the man I planned to grow old with, the father of my children, and all the hopes of the life I’d imagined. No more dinners. No more kisses. No more laughs can be shared between us. Because he decided he couldn’t. And I don’t even know why.

  We have a beautiful home, stable jobs, smart and healthy kids. I’m so confused. I keep waiting for Todd to walk down the stairs and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

  I stand, staring at the blackness that fills my view.

  The emptiness drains the parts of me that were once so full. It takes over the hope I once had, making it black and ugly. They wheel him out as I crumple to the floor. Angie rushes over to me, enveloping me in her arms, and holds on.

  “I’m so sorry, Pres.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” I release her and know what I have to do now. “I have to go get the boys.”

  “Oh, God,” she gasps, covering her mouth. “What do they know?”

  “They know something’s wrong and it’s about their father. I have to go get them. They’re probably terrified.”

  I manage to pull myself up as the last police officer lingers by the back door. He walks over as I squeeze my arms around my stomach. “Here’s my card, Mrs. Benson. If you need anything, please give me a call.”

  I nod and close my eyes. I need for this to not be real, but he can’t do that. “Thanks.”

  Angie’s hand rests on my back. “Do you want me to stay?”

  “Please,” I say and she heads to the couch. I hear her moan break free as I walk the officer out.

  “I can stay here if it’ll help,” he offers.

  “I appreciate it. I don’t think anything is going to help.” I grip the card in my hand as a lifeline. “How do I tell them?” I ask this man who is a stranger. I need someone to tell me what to do.