by Megan Green
These two were mine. All mine.
And nothing was going to break us apart.
Cade quickly gave us his blessing once Joey put him down. Trying to explain to him why we couldn’t have a wedding that weekend was the hard part, the words divorce and custody hearings not really making sense to his overactive imagination. He saw no problem with us having a party that weekend in Joey’s backyard. When Joey jokingly asked him what the rush was, my heart nearly burst in my chest at Cade’s response.
“I can’t wait to tell everyone that you’re my dad.”
I looked over at Joey at that point and saw the tears welling in his eyes. Joey was a man’s man, the epitome of a soldier through and through. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen him cry in all the years I’d known him. And, somehow, the words of my seven-year-old son had been able to reduce him to tears.
Now, I’m a blubbering mess from just thinking about that moment.
I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, sniffing back any lingering tears. My phone has stopped ringing by now, but I’ve been so caught up in my own blissful state of affairs that I don’t even have the heart to feel guilty. I’m sure whoever it was will call back if it was important. It was probably a damn telemarketer anyway. Only a few weeks with a new phone number, and somehow, I’ve already seemed to land at the top of every scammer’s call list.
I pull my hands from my bag and begin pushing the cart down the aisle when it rings again. I freeze, my thoughts momentarily going to the worst.
What if something has happened to Joey? Oh my God, or Cade?
My hand shoots into my purse and finds the phone within seconds. When I pull it out, my heart starts to race as an unknown number flashes on my screen. Only Joey and Cade have this number—well, other than the telemarketers. But what reason would they have for calling so close together?
I press the Answer button and hold the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I say warily.
Silence greets me for several seconds, followed by the sound of jostling, as if the phone is being passed around.
A heavy breath sighs into the phone, almost as if the person has been crying.
“Hello?” I say again, my tone more forceful this time. “I think you—”
“Mom?” Cade’s desperate voice floods my senses, panic instantly setting into every part of me.
“Cade?” I shriek, desperately looking around myself, as if it’ll make him appear out of thin air. “Where are you, baby?”
“I’m with him. I’m with…Dad.”
My blood turns to ice.
And then he’s there. “Hello, sweetheart.”
My heart is in my throat, pounding, pounding, pounding, in an attempt to escape the confines of my body. I can’t speak. I can’t even breathe. All I can do is stand here, tightly clutching the phone against my ear as hot tears fill my eyes.
“Cade and I are having a little father-son bonding day. Isn’t that right, son?”
I can hear Cade crying softly in the background. I can picture James reaching out to him, as if to place a loving hand on his son’s shoulder. And I can envision Cade shrinking away from his touch, not wanting James to hurt him.
The ice in my veins ignites.
“If you touch one hair on his head, James, I swear to God—”
“What? You’ll sic your new boyfriend on me again? I’ve got to say, sweetheart, that was low. Even for you. Sending someone else to do your dirty work for you. Tsk-tsk. Did I teach you nothing during all of our years together? If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”
“Fuck. You,” I seethe into the phone.
James gives a disapproving cluck of his tongue. “Now, now. That’s no way to speak to your husband. Don’t you remember those vows we took all those years ago? You promised to love, honor, and obey me. Well, sweetheart, you’ve done a piss-poor job at all three of those, haven’t you?”
“Where is my son?” I bite out, already tired of whatever game he thinks he’s playing.
I’m not going to bow down to him. Not this time. Not while he has my son in his clutches. James might think he knows me. The weak, frightened Nichole he beat into submission time and time again. But what he doesn’t know is that I’ve changed. In a few months, I’ve grown a confidence I didn’t think I possibly had in me. And, now, this son of a bitch has gone after my son. There’s no way I’m letting him go without a fight.
Even if it kills me.
James drones on about what a horrible wife I am and how I’ve failed Cade as a mother. But I don’t hear any of it.
“James,” I interrupt, my voice bordering on yelling, “tell me where you are.”
He laughs. “I don’t know. Cade, should we tell Mom where we are? Do you want her to come and hang out with us boys? I know she likes to do that with you and her new special friend. Tell me, Cade, should we have a big, old family reunion?”
A sniffle is the only response I hear, but it only further incites my fury.
“Enough, James. You called because you want me there. Now, tell me where you are.”
He’s silent for a moment. “You know, you were much more fun before you got all these bullshit ideas in your head. Now, you’re just a fucking bitch.”
It’s my turn to be silent. I’m not going to dignify that with a response.
“Cade and I are taking a trip down memory lane, sweetheart. You remember the old boathouse, don’t you? Where it all began?”
I’m out the door before the last word leaves his lips, my shopping cart forgotten in the Frozen Foods section.
“And, Nichole?” James’s voice comes through the line just before I’m about to hang up. “You’d better come alone. You wouldn’t like what could happen if you didn’t.”
Twelve Years Ago
I drag myself into work that night, my hair piled into a messy knot on top of my head.
After I refused to go off to college a few months ago, my mother told me she’d had enough of my wallowing around the house and said if I wasn’t going to school, then I sure as hell was going to get a job.
Mom and Dad knew the owner of the boathouse, and he hired me without even having a formal interview. I would come here three nights a week and all day on Saturdays, sitting behind a desk, to hand out keys and take payments for rentals. It was boring as hell. And I hated it. But it was easy and got my mother off my back slightly, so I kept at it.
It had been three months since Joey left. Three months since the night I fucked up my life forever.
And I hated myself a little more each day.
Tonight is a slow night on the lake, autumn finally turning over into winter, driving away the few remaining fishermen and families looking for a quiet evening on the water. I drum my fingers on the counter as I stare at the clock, wishing for ten o’clock to hurry up and roll around so that I can go home.
Not that home is any better. Home is just full of memories of him. But, at least when I’m home, I can take a sleep aid and shut it all down for a few hours. I don’t have to endure the accusing looks from the people in town or the whispers I hear following me everywhere I go.
“She broke that poor boy’s heart. That’s why he left. He couldn’t stay here and face her every day, knowing what she’d done. And, now, who knows if we’ll ever see him again?”
I wanted to argue the first time I heard them. I wanted to tell them that Joey had enlisted before anything had happened between us. But the words never passed my lips. Regardless of how true my rebuttal might be, it didn’t change the fact that the first part of the gossip was true.
I’d broken Joey’s heart. And I wasn’t sure how I would ever be able to forgive myself.
I’d gone to him the day after I’d woken up in bed with Owen, hoping I could explain. Maybe if Joey heard it from me and could see how sorry I was, he might be able to forgive me. But I had been too late. Word had already gotten to him. And the look on his face when he’d opened his front door and seen me standing the
re would haunt me forever.
He hadn’t looked angry.
He hadn’t even looked mad.
He’d just looked…hurt.
Broken.
Devastated.
He’d taken one look at me and shaken his head. “Go home, Nichole.” His voice had cracked.
I’d wanted to go to him. I’d wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how sorry I was. How I would give anything to take it back. To take some of the hurt I could feel radiating off him and inflict it upon myself. I deserved it. Joey did not.
But I didn’t do any of those things. Instead, I’d curled in on myself, my arms wrapping around my waist, as if they could hold me together. And I’d watched him shut the door in my face.
My heart aches with the same raw pain even now, after several months have passed. I don’t think it’s ever going to go away. There’s a hollowness in me, in my chest, that feels like it will never be filled. I’m going to remain this shell, this fragmented outline of the person I once was, for the rest of my days.
And I earned every single second of it.
The bell on the door chimes, signaling the entrance of a customer and the time for wallowing to end.
I pull myself from my thoughts, turning to look up at the man before me. He smiles at me, his lips lifting crookedly in one corner.
“I’m here to rent a boat?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement.
I look at the clock. “We’re closing in half an hour. Sorry.”
He grins at me again, his eyes giving me a quick once-over. I run my hands over my messy ponytail, trying to smooth down any flyaways that I’m sure have developed in the past few hours. I haven’t given one ounce of a shit about my appearance these past few months. But, suddenly, with this stranger’s eyes on me, I want to at least appear presentable.
My actions only cause his smile to widen.
“What’s your name, pretty eyes?”
I blush, my cheeks flaming as I look down at the counter, my lips turning up in the corners.
It’s the first time I’ve smiled since that night.
“Nichole,” I whisper, still not looking up to meet his gaze.
His hand comes to rest under my chin. Slowly, he lifts my face until my eyes meet his. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. It’s nice to meet you, Nichole. I’m James.”
James came to see me every night that first week.
On the second night, he’d talked me into taking a boat ride with him.
By the third night, we had started dating.
He made me feel beautiful. He made me feel wanted. And, above all, he made me feel…better.
I know it might sound terrible. I mean, really, it had only been a few months since Joey left. But, when you’re eighteen and heartbroken, the town pariah because of one horrible mistake, a few months can feel like forever.
James helped me forget all that. He made me feel like my old self again. And I fell for him.
Hook, line, and sinker.
After my parents died, he was all I had left. He held me during those long nights as I cried myself to sleep. He promised me he’d make it all okay. That he’d make sure I never felt this kind of pain again.
It wasn’t until later—much, much later—that I realized he was too good to be true. And, by then, it was too late.
You know the rest.
As I speed through traffic, trying desperately to get to my son before something bad happens, I wish above all else that I’d never set foot on that first boat with James. I wish I’d been stronger. I wish I’d been able to pull myself out of my own depression, not needing James to help me through it.
I now believe fate has a plan for us all. Cade would have still found his way to me even if I had never met James. And if something happens to Cade today because of my past transgressions, I will never be able to live with myself.
My foot presses heavily on the accelerator of Joey’s truck, my body unable to stop rocking as I will the vehicle to move faster. It doesn’t work though. It feels like an eternity has passed before I pull up outside that old boathouse.
I jump out of the cab of the truck, not even bothering to shut the door behind me. I take off at a run, sprinting up the old gravel walkway to the front door. Weeds have taken over, the rocks barely visible through their thickness. The place shut down several years ago, closing within months after the big sporting goods store had opened in town. Nobody wanted to rent a boat when you could buy one for a monthly payment that was unheard of.
I rush to the front door, trying the handle, only to find it locked. I violently shake it, throwing my shoulder into the door in an attempt to break it free. But it’s no use. Running around to the side of the building, I try the access door, the one leading into the garage where all the spare parts were kept.
It opens.
I run through it, my eyes not adjusting quickly enough to the dim lighting inside. I trip over a large hunk of metal, and it sends me sprawling onto my hands and knees.
A dress shoe steps into my line of sight.
“Hello, sweetheart,” James says.
I raise my head to look up at him.
His arm rushes down, a blurred flash in my distorted vision, and then all I see is darkness.
His voice registers before I’m fully conscious, the deep timbre dragging me back from the depths of senselessness. My head lolls on my neck, and it takes everything in me to lift it upright and open my eyes. It feels like I was hit upside the head with a sledgehammer. And, when my eyes finally focus on James, I see exactly that.
Not a sledgehammer. But a regular old hammer.
My hand instinctively rises to assess the damage to my head, but I’m met with resistance. Looking around, I see that I’m on the floor, my arms bent painfully behind my body. Craning my neck, I see the cords bound around my wrists, along with tiny hands that are turning purple against mine. I trail my eyes up the little arms, my gaze coming to rest on Cade’s slumped form just behind my shoulder.
I wiggle my fingers against his, rubbing my thumb along the back of his hand. His fingers tighten around mine. It’s awkward as hell, but this small contact provides me with a sense of relief. A sense of courage.
Lifting my head, I turn and face James.
I’m greeted with a familiar look, his sneering smile looming over me. When my eyes meet his, his lips part in a toothy grin, his eyes narrowing into predatory slits.
He looks downright malevolent. A villain who’s finally captured his prey. A lion that has finally taken down the gazelle he was stalking, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity.
I bite back the overwhelming fear that fills my chest. I can’t let him win this time. I won’t. I owe it to Cade.
“Why, James? Why go to all this trouble?” I ask him, looking around the room.
The windows are boarded up, only the slightest slivers of light breaking through the cracks. This might be an abandoned boathouse, but I know for a fact that they didn’t go through all the trouble of boarding up the place before they locked the doors for the last time. This wasn’t an opportunistic crime James jumped at when the time presented itself, as if Cade were walking out of school or playing on the playground by himself and James seized the opportunity to grab him. No, he planned this. He made sure I’d walk in exactly where he wanted me. And he made sure nobody would be around to hear me scream.
I look back up at him. “You don’t love me, James. So, tell me why. Why couldn’t you just let me go?”
His hand closes around my face, squeezing tightly. I wince under the pressure, the taste of blood flooding my mouth as the inside of my cheeks scrape against my teeth.
“You are mine,” he seethes. He harshly pushes me away from him, knocking me and Cade off balance, and he turns and walks over to the chair he has propped in front of the two of us.
He sits slowly, sinking into the chair as he watches Cade and I attempt to straighten ourselves. Once we’re both upright, James scoffs, a humorless, dry laugh esc
aping his lips.
“Did you really think I’d just let you walk away? You are my wife, Nichole. You don’t just get to leave. That isn’t how it works.”
His hands are visibly shaking as he wipes them down the front of his slacks. There’s a slight twitch at the left corner of his lips. He sniffs hard. Once, twice.
Wipe. Twitch. Sniff.
Like a junkie in need of his next fix.
I am so fucking stupid.
How did I not see this sooner? The change in his behavior the last few times I’ve seen him. He’s always been brutal. But these past couple months…he’s been completely insane.
James is an addict. And there’s no way he’d be stupid enough to try and score from a dealer. Not when people could potentially see and talk. No, if he’s using, that means he’s supplying it himself. Which means…
“It’s you, isn’t it?” I ask softly.
His head cocks to the side as he looks at me, his expression curious.
“You’re the one selling drugs to those kids.”
His lips turn up at the corners. “Figured that out, have you? I’ll say, sweetheart, it’s about time. I was practically dealing right under your nose for months before you walked out. But you were too blind to see it. Too damn stupid.”
I think back to the late-night phone calls. The last-minute meetings he’d have to run out to. I didn’t think anything of it, only grateful for the few minutes or hours of sanctuary it might provide for me, being out from under his scrutinizing gaze and heavy hand. I never once thought of what he might really be doing. I didn’t have the foresight to consider the consequences of turning a blind eye. I was only concerned for myself and my son.
And, now, several people are dead because of the man standing in front of me.
“How could you?” I ask sincerely. As awful as James has always been to me, I’d never have imagined him doing something like this. “They were just kids, James. Do you realize what you’ve done?”
He chuckles. “I didn’t do anything but provide them with something they were already looking for. It’s not my fault their parents did a piss-poor job of raising them, causing them to seek out an escape. It was too easy. All I had to do was flash a little bit of product, and they’d come running.”
