“It’s time for me to disappear. Hazel will take care of my donation,” Grandpa announces, directing his gaze at me. “I’m glad you came, Willow. Are you leaving with Hunter or would you like to ride with me?”
“No, thank you. You should only worry about Hazel.” My voice comes off like a bite. I feel ashamed for snapping, for the ambivalence I have for him. One moment I’m content with this place, the next I’m elated, and then I crash because I don’t belong. All three corrode my emotional state. Am I wrong to feel jealous about Gramps relationship with Hazel? She can take care of him, his estate, and she found a new family. The Everharts are the McFee family of New York. She doesn’t need me. I should stop disrupting her life. Maybe Harrison is assuming Elliot’s place. I turn to look at Hunter, knowing he would be the perfect match for her. Can anyone be as amazing as him? Certainly not, and it won’t be long before he realizes she’s so much better than I am.
Leave, Willow. Run now that you still have your act together. No one will notice your absence. I rise from my seat. “You know what, I think that’s a marvelous idea. Shall we, Grandpa?” Everyone at the table stares at me, and my eyes widen as I realize I spoke in a poor British accent. Wonderful, now they’re going to think I’m crazy.
“Oops,” I peep, touching my mouth with the tip of my fingers I smile. “A side effect from my earlier audition. If you’ll excuse us, we will be leaving.” I quickly try to add something to the words that slipped from my mouth. “Have fun, Everhart boys. Make sure my sister makes it home. I’m so happy she found a support system in all of you.” I pat Hunter’s shoulder and walk to my grandfather. “Lead the way, Gramps. I’m so tired, I could sleep for days.”
I’m tired of trying to please everyone, to change for each person I know. When will they accept me for who I am? None of these people care about me. With each rejection, I die a little more on the inside.
“Of course, dear. The car is waiting for us.” We turn around to leave.
As I slide into the service car, I spot Hunter watching from afar. The door closes, and I can’t hold my shit together any longer. I start crying like a stupid child abandoned by her parents. No one ever chooses me. My grandfather holds me as I continue to cry, ordering the driver to take a long ride and closing the privacy window.
“This isn’t normal, dear. We have to find you some help, get you the support you need before something bad happens.” He doesn’t know bad happens daily. I wear bad as a second skin. When something good is about to approach, I make sure I ruin it.
REALITY IS RELATIVE
Do you want to be different?
Try to let go of the truth
~ “A Beautiful Lie,” 30 Seconds to Mars
Hunter
I STAND ON the sidewalk watching the car disappear, leaving me confused and horny. At least, that’s how I’ve convinced myself to run after her. I’m falling like an idiot for a woman who changes moods as quickly as she changes outfits. At least, that’s how I translate the heartache and chest tightness I felt as her gaze went cold, and she became distant.
Placing a hand on top of my head, I push it down, settling the anger. What the fuck just happened? Did I say something wrong? With my phone in hand, I slide my thumb across the screen, going to my texts.
“Hunter?” I stop from sending an angry text to Willow—no a pleading text. I turn around to find Hazel rushing toward me, she holds the hem of her navy, lace gown. Fitz carries her heels, and my two other brothers walk behind them. “What happened?”
Your sister switched personalities? “She behaved like an aristocrat from the eighteenth century.”
“Can you be a little more specific?”
I recount what happened, step by step. Hazel makes me go back, asking if she spewed out any character lines.
She quizzes me about her behavior. Five times in a row she asks about her mood or any explosive outburst.
“Her eyes were lost in a hurricane of emotions.”
“Do you think her mind was wandering?” This feels like the Spanish Inquisition. I’m being tortured by the uncertainty of her current state. “As if suddenly something else took over her.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Probably.”
“What else? I need more information.”
Pushing me to remember what Willow had for breakfast, her temper before and after the audition, and if she made any comments regarding the role. Fitz tells her about her comment toward Grant. Right, she snapped at him, how could I forget?
Worry about Hazel.
Running through every step, I include the words I caught her mumbling while she chewed her lower lip. Everhart and McFees, sounding like the Montagues and Capulets.
Hazel looks up to the sky, sighing heavily. “Ignore that, you are nothing like the McFees and vice versa.”
Scanning the four of us, she burst into a loud laugh. “Damn it, she has to stop altering reality.” She waves around her head, closing her eyes briefly. “Was she sad?”
“I’m not sure.” I press my lips together, confused and lost. This interrogation is draining me, adding anxiety on top of worry.
Hazel takes her phone out of her clutch, swipes the screen, and taps it a few times. “This should help.”
I stretch my neck reading the few words she sent.
HAZEL: YAM, Wills.
“Jam?”
She shakes her head. “Y.A.M. It’s something I came up with to make sure she remembers I love and need her.”
Fitz squeezes her hand, and I believe he knows more than what Hazel is telling me. “What do you want us to do, sweetheart?”
She shoots me a glare as if she’s accusing me of something. “Gramps is with her, right?”
I nod. In about twenty minutes, she’ll have me. I don’t plan to sit and watch her disappear, forever. I fucking want her with me. Today, I’m fighting for her and with her. I believe in a future with Willow. No matter how many demons come with her, we can take them down together.
“I’m glad she has him. Maybe this is a good time for them to bond.” Hazel exhales heavily. “We are going back inside. There are children who are counting on us.”
For a second I thought she’s a bitch for abandoning her sister. I believe she doesn’t care with her interrogation and lack of emotion. But as she walks into Harrison’s arms and melts, I realize it’s not the case.
“You okay, Hunt?” Harrison shoots me a worried look, waiting for me to say something.
“Make an excuse, I have to be with her.”
Hazel smiles at me, whispers something to Harrison, and the four of them leave. I request my car from the valet parking station and drive to the Beesley’s home, I arrive within twenty minutes, as expected. Unfortunately, they aren’t home. My heart sinks when the housekeeper informs me they haven’t arrived, or called. Dreading what could’ve happened, I return to the elevator.
I step inside, wondering where she could be.
My eyes are trained on the elevator; it’s been five hours since I went downstairs to have the concierge park my Aston Martin. Suddenly, the elevator doors open and Willow and Mr. Beesley walk across the room. Her face is blotchy, eyes swollen, and her lips tightly closed.
“Willow, Mr. Beesley.”
“This isn’t a good time,” Grant says when he spots me sitting in a foyer chair. “She needs to rest.”
“I couldn’t agree more, sir.” I rise from my seat and take her into my arms. Kissing the top of her head, pressing her so close to me, that we almost fuse into one person. My heart finds the rhythm of hers, her flowery scent mixes with mine. “Do you want us to stay here tonight, Willow?”
Tilting my head, I find her sad eyes staring at me. Her expressive green orbs knock me on my knees as they look so empty and lost. Most of all, she looks like she’s in so much pain. “Let me be with you. I will hold you no matter how painful it gets.”
Her eyes water, she whimpers quietly, and the dam breaks, letting the tears fall freely.
“You
’re safe, baby.” I lift my hand, pushing her head lightly so it rests on top of my chest. “Mind if we stay in your room tonight?”
Without waiting for a response, I head to her room, open the door, and stare at the number of dresses lying all over the floor. That’s what she meant when she said she’d had trouble finding just the right dress. Nothing seemed appropriate for a charity event. She wanted to fit in, to look perfect for the part. Staring at the woman in my arms, it hits me like a bullet train. She changes her persona to fit the place, the person, and the moment.
Who are you?
I stare at her, the woman I hold like a precious angel. Kissing the top of that convoluted head, I speak. “Will you talk to me?”
“It hurts so much,” she whispers so low I can barely make out the words. Touching my lips to hers, I sense her pain. Wanting to dissipate it, I kiss her slowly, slipping my tongue into her mouth. The taste of wretchedness hitting my chest, making it throb with the jarring feelings that consume her. I would give anything to know where it hurts and how to take it away. Later, maybe tomorrow we can talk.
THE CYCLE
The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die.
~ Juliette Lewis
Hunter
“ANYTHING YOU CAN tell me will help.”
Hazel hands me a plate. “Thank you for cooking?” She takes her plate to the table after I added scrambled eggs.
I snort, flipping the pancakes, and then turning off the gas knob before adding the batch of eggs to a platter. Without an alarm, my body woke up at six in the morning. I happened to find Hazel arriving with my brothers. They went clubbing after the gala. “About your sister. And you’re welcome for breakfast.”
“Wills has her episodes.” Hazel gets up and grabs the orange juice from the refrigerator. “Look, we had a strange childhood. Our parents are different.”
Fitz takes the bottle, pours juice into her glass, and then offers it to everyone around the table. “They’re eccentric,” he informs.
“They gave us no boundaries. A child without them tends to feel lost. It fucked us up.” She rubs her forehead. “Willow’s personality tends to adapt depending on where she is and who she’s with at the time. She’s only herself when she feels safe.”
Covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers, she stares at me.
“Do you think she has depression?”
Hazel shrugs. “I’m not a therapist to answer your question. Does she have issues?” She chuckles, turning to Fitz as if they share some kind of secret. “Parental neglect can cause a lot of mental damage. So, what if she has episodes when she avoids the world? It’s the way she copes with life.”
This isn’t helpful. In fact, she doesn’t recognize the enormity of Willow’s problems. Or maybe I’m making all of this up in my head.
“How do you cope with the world, Hazel?”
She laughs harder than before. “For years, I lived in a fantasy. My best friend, later boyfriend and then husband was my coping mechanism. Once our relationship fell apart, I searched for love and recognition.”
She drinks the rest of her juice. “Honestly, I wish I had dealt with my issues the way Willow does.” She shakes her head. “But we’re all different. Does she need therapy?” Rising from her seat, she kisses Fitz cheek. “Thank you for tonight, handsome. One day you’ll make someone the luckiest guy in the world.”
Fitz winks at her. “You’ll find him for me. That’s the deal.”
She smirks. Then points at Scott and Harrison. “I’ll have all the Everhart boys happily married one day.” Turning her gaze back to me, her shoulders sag. “I believe that everyone needs a therapist at some point in their lives. Willow does too. However, Willow does what Willow wants. I’ve learned that one can only change when one is ready. I don’t think that she is. But I’m not a doctor.” Inhaling loudly, she continues. “However, if you believe you need to fix her, you’re wrong,” she says. “Love isn’t about changing someone, bandaging wounds, and kissing bruises all the time. Some days you have to watch as the person learns to bandage herself and mend her bruises.”
Lifting her finger, she points at me. “If she asks for help, that’s when you hold her hand and you both walk away from the edge. Love is a partnership. It’s a mutual agreement where you learn to adapt and switch roles as needed.” She chews on her lip. “She’s starting to trust you and show you her scars. Walk away if you can’t handle when her bright light dims.”
“I vote for let’s head home and forget about Willow,” Fitz declares taking the dishes to the sink.
Hazel glares at him.
“What?” He gives her an innocent smile. “I’m worried about my little brother. Can you blame me?”
Setting Willow’s breakfast on a silver tray, I turn to him. “Wash the dishes, I fed you.”
Harrison follows behind me. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”
Turning around, I see them both, my oldest brothers—the ones who became my parents when ours died. They know me better than I do myself. I press my lips together, watching them as they glance at each other.
“We think this is a bad idea.”
“Terrible,” Harrison amends, separating his hands and then clapping loudly and making explosion-like noises with his mouth. “You’re not qualified to help her.”
“I’m old enough to know what I’m qualified to do.”
Continuing to her room, I open the door, finding her still asleep. “Morning, sunshine. It’s time to wake up and explore New York.” Setting the food on top of the credenza, I open the curtains. “Morning.”
Pulling the covers over her face, she hisses, “Let me sleep for the next three days.”
“It’s time for us to get out of bed and explore New York.”
“Go away, Hunter. I’d rather not see you until I feel better.”
“We agreed to talk about what’s going on with you.”
“You settled that without my consent,” she growls as I uncover her pretty face; smiling when I kiss the tip of her nose. “No. I won’t leave my bed.”
“What are we doing then?” I point out the lack of a television. She says if she needs to watch something there’s her laptop or she might move her pity party to the media room.
Smiling, I go to the media room with breakfast in hand. Marching back into her bedroom, I wrap her in the comforter as if she’s a burrito and transport her to the room with me.
“What are you doing, Hunter?” She protests when I sit her on the long leather couch, adjusting the blanket.
“You want to spend the day doing nothing? How about watching more musicals?” I pick up a napkin by the tip, shake it, and place it on her lap. Then hand her a plate with pancakes and bacon and finally a glass of orange juice.
Glaring at the plate, she drops her shoulders. “This is the moment when you disappear from my life.”
“Why?” I slide in next to her with my own plate. I pop a piece of bacon into my mouth, then feed her some. “If you tell me more about what’s going on, we can adjust.”
“Adjust to what? I don’t know what I have.”
“Depression?”
No one believes I can handle whatever it is going on with her. I must look like a pathetic idiot. Telling her my story is working against me. I never should have told her I can’t handle shit. Well, maybe I could deal with the emotional baggage now.
“Trust me a little, gorgeous.” I feed her a pancake since she’s ignoring the food on her lap. “Yes, I was shallow with the others, but you’re different. We’re both trying to get out of our comfort zone. You let someone into your world. I get to know you before we . . .”
I move closer, my lips almost touching her beautiful neck. Her breathing hitching. “Make love.” I nibble her lobe before I find her lips and kiss her. “For days at a time.”
“When I disappoint you, you’ll leave me.”
Moving the plates to the end table, I push her to the corner of the couch. Hugging her
with both arms. “Nothing you do will push me away unless you don’t want to be with me. We both fear being left behind. If anything, I think we’re perfect for each other.”
“How?” She places both hands on my face, holding me still. Staring deeply into my eyes, I feel our souls touching.
“You should communicate what you feel, I will do the same. Like last night,” I blurt without thinking about the consequences of my words. “If you are done or overwhelmed, you just need to tell me and we can leave the event.”
“I don’t belong in your world.” Her tone is low, almost a whisper. “I feel anxious when I think you’re going to find out who I really am. What will I do then?”
“You are becoming my world, Willow,” I respond. I take her hands off my cheeks and kiss the back of each finger, pressing one of her palms onto my heart. “It’s beating for you.”
She puffs her cheeks, wrinkling her nose. “You’re idealizing someone I’m not. There will be days I can’t go out because I hate everyone, myself the most. I ruin everything I touch. The hardest are those days when I don’t see the point of going on.”
A chilling thought strikes me. “Not continuing?”
Her eyes concentrate on the carpet. “It’s a cycle, a rollercoaster. My only stable relationship is with my sister. I can’t hang on to a friendship for long. When I feel like someone is rejecting me, I want to give up . . .” She finally looks up, finding my eyes. “I fall apart.”
I run both hands through my hair, trying to absorb what she’s saying.
“In my experience, no one wants to stick around,” she continues. “Why would they? They don’t care to understand.”
Would she believe me if I tell her I can see the ache in her eyes? Her agony hurts me as well. It devastates me not knowing how to help her, how to reach inside her soul and comfort it. Is it her soul, her mind? What is it that makes her so miserable and unreachable?
“I want to be with you any day of the week. In your darkest as much as in your brightest days.”
She tosses her head back, closing her eyes for several breaths. Then, opening and straightening herself lightly she throws a curve ball. “So, I get used to you, what will happen to me when you leave?”
All of You All of Me Page 9
