Juanita sets a steaming bowl of soup in front of me along with a small plate of bread. She fills my glass with water and passes a small, doily covered saucer holding four extra strength Tylenol pills. She nods for me to take them while giving me a gigantic smile. I put them all in my mouth and slowly drink the water down. The cool water tastes perfect as it quenches my dry mouth and throat.
“So, where are all the customers?” I ask then take a bite of my food.
“Oh, we haven’t had a lot of customers since…” Sadness covers her face before she swallows and continues, “Well, since the Wakefields died.”
“Oh, my gosh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
It makes me wonder what happened to Nate and how he is doing. He was very close to his parents, and they adored him just as much. I envied his life because I never had that. I had an alcoholic for a father and a recluse for a mother. They didn’t give a shit about me, and I pretty much raised myself.
“What happened?” I ask, wondering if I really want to know.
“Well, they were coming home from Boston late one night when Mr. Wakefield fell asleep at the wheel. He collided with a barrier and then flipped the car. After that, developers started buying up the land out here, and the business began to suffer. Our little town has been taken over by a lot of business types, and they are going nuts buying up the town. Now there are three locally run bed and breakfasts. The customers prefer to go there, I guess.”
She directs me to eat then stands and walks from the table. When Juanita comes back, she refills my water glass.
I have to ask her again, “What happened to me last night? Was I in a car accident?” Just as the words leave my mouth, an old truck comes cruising up the long, winding driveway, a cloud of dust behind it.
“You need to ask Nate. He was there. He can tell you exactly what happened.”
I snap my head to her as my heart simultaneously sinks to my feet. Nate. He is here. Of course he is. He wouldn’t leave this place, and isn’t that why I left him to begin with, because he wouldn’t leave the small town behind?
I stand from my chair and slowly walk to the front door. As I pull the door open, my past flashes backward a decade. Standing at the foot of the porch stairs is the boy I once cared for, encased in a man’s body. My heart lurches, and the pain in my side is soon masked by the feeling of uncertainty of what this moment will ensue.
I don’t know how he feels about me; however, the look of disgust on his face tells me it won’t be a good reunion. I assess him, trying to see if there is anything I recognize.
He has grown several inches, standing quite a bit taller than my five-foot-six frame, and is no longer lanky and thin. He has muscles, a lot of muscles, and they are perfectly cut to match is manly frame. He is wearing an old ball cap, but I can tell his sandy-brown hair is cut close to his head. Although, it is his eyes that practically knock me off my feet. They are the same gray-blue that I remember, but they don’t have the boyish twinkle gleaming from the corner. They are cold, angry, and slightly broken. In fact, his entire body mirrors his eyes as he appears hard and seems to be on the brink of raging out. His face is covered in a couple days’ worth of stubble, and the intricate, black ink covering his arms slightly moves as he flexes his fists into tight balls.
I take a step out the front door, not wanting to get closer yet knowing I have no other choice. I want to run. I want to make a break for it and never look back. I want the last couple of days to rewind until I’m back in New York City in my apartment, looking over the newest client’s portfolio. I don’t want to be here, because I don’t want to have to face the past. As it appears, Nate doesn’t want to face it, either.
I was really hoping when I got back from running errands she would be gone. I don’t know what to do with her, but my chivalry got the better of me when I decided not to leave her lying on the grass. She was hurt—that much was apparent. After I brought her back to the house, Dr. Wellman confirmed she had broken her ribs. What the hell else was I supposed to do? As a result, I stuck her in a room, hoping she would be gone the next day. He and I went back for her car, so I am surprised she is still here.
I don’t want to talk to her or even look at her. The thought of her back in town—not to mention staying in my family’s home—almost kills me. I haven’t dealt with my life well since she left me, and I definitely didn’t want to start last night. The best way for me to handle all of this was to get fucked up and forget all about the events at the cliff.
When I see her standing in front of me, all the anger of the past ten years comes flooding back in, and I want to beat something hard.
She looks like a battered wife with all her scrapes and bruises, but she is still as beautiful as she was when I loved her. Her feet are covered in a pair of my dad’s old socks, and she is wearing one of my dress shirts—probably from high school—and a pair of my boxers. The shirt is unbuttoned enough to show the swell of her full breasts, and her womanly curves are a sight to be admired.
What the hell? This is Maddie Stone I am talking about. It doesn’t matter how hot she is. She is a class-A bitch, and I want nothing to do with her, ever.
I turn my glare from annoyed to lethal because I am not going to give her the satisfaction of anything positive. The bitch doesn’t deserve it. I haven’t met a woman who does. I don’t want to give her anything except some gas for the road. I want her out of my life. I can’t deal with the bullshit that will surely come flying out of her mouth. If she is like anything she was back in the day, she will have something to say. She always did.
“Nate,” she whispers to me and then clears her throat. As she grabs on to the handrail, attempting to climb down the stairs, I only glare at her. “How … How are you doing?”
“Spare me the pleasantries, Maddie.” I cross my arms over my chest and lock my jaw from saying anything more. Just get in your damn car and get the fuck out of here.
“Damn, okay … It’s going to be like that, is it?” she snaps back in true Maddie fashion, mirroring my stance and squaring up to me. “Where the hell is my car?”
I nod my head to the left, and she looks where I gestured. I noticed last night when I got into the driver’s seat that it was full of boxes, like she was moving or something. For a moment, I thought she was coming back here, but that thought died when I realized who I was dealing with. Maddie Stone wanted nothing to do with Crestbrook, Rhode Island when she lived here. She couldn’t stay, even when I was certain the promise of our future together would guarantee her happiness. She still chose to leave. And that is fine. Whatever. I am over it.
She walks down the length of the porch and studies her car. It is a pretentious automobile if you ask me, but I am sure it suits her now. She seems to like the material things: from thousand dollar shoes to luxury cars.
“Wait…” She comes walking back, slightly hunched over to the side, holding her midsection with her arms. “I wasn’t in a car accident?”
“Nope,” I answer as I turn my back and walk to my small house cattycorner from the big guest house. I can’t deal with her right now. She just needs to leave.
“Nate!” Maddie shouts then whimpers slightly in pain.
My feet freeze, but I don’t face her. I simply can’t look at her right now. I don’t want to dredge up the past when I will more than likely want to hurt someone or something after the conversation is over.
The wooden stairs creak, letting me know she must be coming down the stairs. I hear the shuffling of feet and then a loud thud followed by the crushing sound of gravel. Then agony travels straight to my frozen soul, jarring the coldness slightly. I have to turn around.
When I do, she is lying on the gravel driveway clutching her side with her knees tucked up to her chest. Small, faint whimpers come from her mouth, and I do nothing. Not because I can’t, but because I don’t want to. The sadistic side of me likes that she is in pain. It serves her right. Why does she get to be happy all the time when the rest of us constantly suffer?
The door flies open, and Juanita comes running out. “Oh, Maddie… Are you okay?” It doesn’t surprise me she is coming to the rescue.
Once Juanita falls to Maddie’s side, she brushes her hair away from her face and soothes her with her serene voice, just like she did when I was a child.
“Nate, come help her up to her room.”
“What? She managed to get out here on her own, so she can manage her way back to her bed,” I snap back.
I don’t even want to be near her. Fuck that. Last night, I did my duty by not leaving her on that ridge. What she does from here on out is up to her.
“Nathan James Wakefield, get your rear end over here and help her to her room.” Juanita’s accent is thick, but when she is angry, she can be impossible to understand. I am used to it because she has been in my life for as long as I can remember, and I have learned Juanita is not someone to be messed with.
I let out a sigh as I make my way over to Maddie’s trembling body.
“How about I help her to her car, instead?” I ask and get my answer with a smack to the back of my arm.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Nate. You heard the doctor; she needs at least two weeks of rest before she should go anywhere. And, even then, it will take her another four to fully heal.”
I bend down and hoist her up in my arms without being careful. Maddie cries out in pain, and the asshole in me really enjoys it. However, the feeling is short lived when I pull her close to my chest. I can’t escape the sensation she gives me when I hold her in my arms. It has been so long since I held anyone, and to be holding Maddie simply blows my mind right now.
I walk up the flight of stairs and enter the room I put her in last night. Years ago, I had this same vision of carrying Maddie up the stairs, but it was for very different reasons. The candles were lit, and the mood was set, but I never got that chance, because she refused to give it to me. I never made it off that damn cliff.
I set her down on the bed then pull the blankets up so she can warm her chilled body. When I move toward the door, I can hear her cry. The sound is strange, as the old Maddie I knew rarely cried, even when she was in pain.
Just as I am about to close the door, she whispers, “Nate … Please tell me what happened last night.”
“Later, Maddie.” She needs to rest, and I need to free my mind from the overload of emotions. I hate to hurt, but I am also reminded how love and hate can be so very close to the same.
“Madison … just Madison,” she corrects as she pulls the covers taut around her body.
I nod my head. “Later, Madison. Just sleep and we will talk about it tomorrow.” I walk from the room and close the door behind me.
I don’t like her here. I don’t like feeling the past collide with my present. I simply want it all to go away. The very sight of her infuriates and, dare I think … scares me. It is because of her that I am who I am today. It is also because of Madison I have suffered through so much loss alone.
I need to beat something to shake the pent up anger. I need to let it loose. I need a goddamn drink.
Just as the thought comes to me, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I look at the message and sneer, thinking the timing couldn’t have been better.
My hand is trembling. I don’t really know how to identify the feelings going through my mind, because I am numb. There is no other word to describe the feeling. I’m simply frozen solid as I look at this stupid yellow paper in my hand. It was left where she said, under the collection of rocks near the edge of the cliff. Our spot, the spot that has been my happy place since I was sixteen, is now tainted by a fucking piece of paper. It only boasts one word, and the word is explosive as it obliterates the world around me.
chapter three
I AM STARTLED AWAKE BY the sound of a loud motor pulling into the driveway. My body is very sore and stiff, but there is something telling me I needed to get up and look out the window.
Slowly, I get up to my elbows and roll myself over to the non-injured side. I swing my legs out of bed and give myself a moment to catch my breath. As slow as I am going, I doubt I will find out who is coming into the drive, but I keep up with my quest, anyway.
I creep out of the bedroom and stumble to the front of the house, looking out the window that has the best view of the driveway. My bedroom is in the back of the house, facing the ocean, so I am surprised that I could hear anything other than the waves rolling in, but I did. My mind was already on alert being in this house with Nate staying close by. I could probably hear a mime outside with how high-strung I am.
When I get to the window, I see Nate shutting the door to his beat up truck. It is after three in the morning, and he looks to be just getting in. He is holding a white towel to his lip with one hand and bottle of liquor in the other. He shuffles his feet along the gravel drive, stumbling with every movement.
I roll my eyes, knowing he is probably wasted and just getting home from the bars or something. With the rage he had toward me earlier today, I wouldn’t be shocked if he took that out on some poor, unsuspecting fool by getting in a bar fight. His muscles are huge and scary, yet it was his lethal glare that had me frightened of the new version of Nate.
Nevertheless, the fact that he is drinking actually surprises me. Nate was never much of a drinker in high school. He practically detested it. He always said oblivion is not a feeling he ever wants to have, and never really took a drink. Me, on the other hand, I was escaping the hellhole I lived in; therefore, being disconnected from reality was a welcome sensation. Nate never judged me. He would drive me around, sit with me at the cliffs, and listen to me spill out the dark secrets that lived inside the walls of my simple ranch home.
Yeah, I am the typical, screwed-up girl with daddy issues. Sadly enough, it is not rare these days, and I am one of a million girls who has to live with that. I am from a stereotypical dysfunctional home. When I was eighteen, I wished I wasn’t the child of a broken family. I wanted so much for my mother to get her shit together enough to give us a better life, away from my father. It never happened.
I tuck my body close to the side of the window frame, trying not to be visible as Nate stands and looks up to the sky. While he lifts the bottle of whiskey to his lips and takes long pulls from it, I shake my head as my curiosity awakens.
What the hell happened to him? What would lead him to drink the way he is? From my mother’s experience, you can’t chug a bottle of liquor the way Nate is without having built a good tolerance. Could this all stem from the night I left that note? Is that why he is drowning himself in booze, because he simply can’t handle what I did to him? No, that couldn’t be it. He has lost his parents, people he adored his whole life. That has to be it, doesn’t it?
“Mom,” I shout into her face, knowing she is wasted again. “Mom!” I scream again, and she does nothing.
My heart starts to pound a hundred miles per hour as I look at my mother’s eerily still body. I plant my gaze at her chest, begging it to move, hoping like hell she is still alive. It feels like an eternity has gone by, but the movement is there. She is still with me.
I release an agitated breath and slap her across the face. I want her to wake up. I want her to feel the fury she caused inside of me. However, as my hand collides with her cheek, her eyes pop open for a mere second before she closes them again.
She isn’t getting up anytime soon. One day, this will not be her outcome. She will be dead, and I will be left with him, the asshole who wants nothing more than for me to disappear.
The next morning, I am able to get up without Juanita’s help and manage to find another button-down shirt in the closet in the other room. I put it on and walk slowly toward the bathroom.
The gash on my head is scabbed over completely and will leave a pretty wicked scar once it is done healing. I bend down, washing my face, and find some of my belongings stacked in the bathroom. Someone must have gone through my stuff in the car, because they found my toothbrush and all my toiletries Daniel threw into a
box when he kicked me out of our place.
The very thought of him angers me so much. I only moved in with him a month prior. I was hesitant, but he insisted I stay over permanently. I decided I wasn’t getting any younger, and I did care for Daniel, so why the hell not? The least I could do was save a little money by giving up my apartment. However, when it all went down at work two days ago, I knew it had all been only a scheme of Daniel’s.
I pull out my toothbrush and find the toothpaste in the cupboard, pushing those thoughts away. I furiously brush my teeth while I think of what a stupid asshole Daniel is and how stupid I was to fall for someone who was simply playing me. He knew my computer access codes and what I was going to introduce for the project. The long and short of it is, I trusted him and got burned.
When I finally make it downstairs, I smell bacon, and my stomach grumbles with immense hunger.
Juanita is standing in the kitchen, humming away to the local oldies channel and singing a little tune as she cooks breakfast. I smile at her happy demeanor this morning and remember the woman is always cheerful. At least she hasn’t changed over the past ten years. Nate, on the other hand, is a stranger.
I would never have thought I would say that in my life time, but he is. We were so close at one time, but I got scared and ran. I moved on with my life, and I hoped Nate had done the same thing. I hope his new outlook on life doesn’t have to do with the night on the cliffs ten years ago. I don’t think I can handle that guilt now.
Hold on You Page 3
