by Nicky Shanks
We both look in the direction of a set of double doors opening; a woman emerges exhausted and covered in blood. My heart races when she talks to the nurse at the desk, who nods toward us. My entire body buzzes as she walks over. Her face doesn’t have the glow of good news.
I don’t get the glow.
I get sadness.
A face full of regret.
When she closes in on us and reaches out her hand for me to shake, Casey intercepts her and takes her hand instead. I tell myself that I’ll thank him later for doing that. Oliver will be pleased with him for taking care of me when he couldn’t—I’m sure of it. They’ll be back to being best friends in no time. I look at the white-tiled floor and close my eyes, waiting.
“You two are here to see Mr. Jackson?” I hear her say, but I don’t look at her.
“Yes,” Casey answers for me. “She’s his—”
“—Wife, yes.” The nurse exhales deeply. Casey swallows hard, but neither of us correct her mistake about me being Oliver’s wife. “I was the one who called you…I’m sorry I had to hang up. We had an emergency and I had to help.”
“Okay,” I mutter and keep my eyes closed.
I don’t bother looking at her—I know what she’s come to tell me.
“Do you want to see him?” she asks, annoyance in her voice.
My eyes open and I make myself look at her this time. “In the morgue?”
She isn’t impressed with my attitude. “I think you’d better come with me.” She leads us back toward the doors she’d just emerged from. Casey pinches me to stand up and tugs me along behind him. The steel doors echo as they shut behind us.
That door.
That door is shutting me out from my old life, and my new reality is in front of me.
And I’m stuck in between.
Chapter Eleven
Heather
This room is so very…purple.
I like purple to an extent…but I’m going to have to change things around a little here. The bed is soft, and as I look at Brandon’s long, dark eyelashes while he sleeps, I frown. All we did last night was sleep. He held me a little and pushed me away once his brain took control and remembered that I’m not the one he really wants.
While I’m in the bathroom, he gets up and disappears into the house somewhere. I hear his voice as I try to eavesdrop around the corner of the living room.
“Yeah, she’s here,” he says. “She didn’t really put up too much of a fight. She just wants someone to take care of her like he did.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Yeah, she’s coming around. I mean…she isn’t Julie.”
I scoff. “Really?” I whisper, hearing him shuffle his feet around like he’s headed toward me. I tuck myself into a closet by the staircase and wait. When he passes me, his shadow moves through the light underneath the door and he turns on the TV in the living room.
“Hey, I’d better go. I have a feeling she’s going to wake up soon.”
The TV’s noise grows louder and I open the closet door slowly, hoping he isn’t aware that I was listening in on him. His head is turned toward the TV as he lounges on the sofa, so I smooth out my tank top and shorts and perk up my chest. I tuck my hair behind my ears and tiptoe into the living room.
“Hey, you.” I draw out my words so they sound sexier. His eyes widen as I come into his view; he opens his arms to greet me and pull me into his lap. It feels nice—no matter how fake it is—to have someone treat me like this again. After Ollie kicked me out, I felt so unwanted that I actually convinced myself I didn’t cheat because our relationship was basically already over.
Okay, I can finally admit it: I treated him like shit. I took him for granted.
“I woke up and you weren’t there.” I pout and his lips curl into a smile.
“I had every intention of making breakfast, but I had a phone call.” His eyes fix onto mine and it makes me nervous; I think he knows I was listening.
I have to save myself. “I can make you breakfast, don’t worry.” I start to move to stand, but he clutches onto me with gentle force.
“You’re not my slave,” he snaps. “You don’t have to take care of me.”
My stomach grumbles. “I’m hungry,” I say. “Don’t read too much into it.”
His laugh pierces my stomach more. “Sit down for a minute.” He laughs more when my eyes squint in annoyance at him. “Please?”
I cross my arms and sit down next to him. “What? I really am hungry.”
“You can make breakfast in a minute. I want you to understand something before we go any further with…whatever it is we’re doing here.”
I nod. “Agreed…”
“So, Julie and I met in high school when we were freshmen. We didn’t start dating until our senior year…she saved me from a bad, bad life. My parents were drug addicts—” His mouth tenses for a few seconds as he remembers his past. “—and just not very good people. Julie’s parents weren’t good people either, so we bonded over that. She helped me in so many ways…I would be lying if I told you I never loved her.”
I click my tongue. “Why are you telling me this? I don’t want to hear about her, just like you don’t want to hear about Oliver.”
His lips thin. “You need to hear this. Julie was everything to me, and it consumed me so much that I kept her hidden. I wanted her to belong to me and no one else. I didn’t let her have many friends…I stopped taking her out in public.”
He looks at me like he can tell I’m thinking something petty, but he continues. “There will never be a day where I won’t be in love with Julie, just know that. She saved my life and I destroyed hers in return. I’ll never forgive myself for that, but I can change myself. I can start something new with someone and be a better person. I’d like that person to be you.”
My eyes lock onto his. “Me?”
“You.”
I inch away from him on the sofa. “You don’t even know me.”
“Let’s change that.” He turns to face me and scoots forward, forcing our legs to touch and making me weak. “Let’s be honest with each other. What were things like between you and Oliver?”
I shake my head. “I’m not talking about that. Just because you’re honest and open doesn’t mean I want to be.”
He holds up his hands in defeat. “Okay, I won’t push you. But if you want a relationship with me, you’re going to tell me sometime. It’s what normal people do—they share things with each other.”
I groan. “Fine. Ollie and I met when I was a sophomore in college and he was a senior. I grew up poor and it was like a fairy tale. My rich prince had swept me off my feet, and before I knew it, I’d dropped out of school and canceled my scholarships to move here with him after he graduated.”
“So, he was able to graduate and you weren’t? That’s pretty shitty.”
My gaze falls to my lap. “Yeah, but I made the choice to drop out. I could have stayed at NYU if I wanted to.”
“He should’ve stayed with you. That’s what I would’ve done.”
I can feel the flush in my cheeks. “Things were different back then. I was a different person. But, I do like the idea of us being better people. I’m actually on a good karma quest right now…I need all of it I can get.”
“Same here.” He smirks. “Then I guess it’s you and me, beautiful.”
I feel uncomfortable talking about myself; no one has asked me any real questions about my life for years. No one ever seemed to care what I thought—they just wanted my attention. Ollie especially liked showing me off to his friends and didn’t mind footing the bill for manicures and clothes. “I could look at some classes at the community college and try some new things out.” I can’t believe what I’m saying, but it piques his interest.
“I can help you with whatever you decide.”
I have to swallow the lump in my throat before I choke. Without saying anything, I stand up and rush to the kitchen, ready to make something to eat. Thank god I find some ba
con in his fridge, because I haven’t had any for days. I don’t know how to make anything else, so I open a few cups of yogurt and spread the food out on the table. When Brandon comes in to check on my progress, his eyes twinkle with amusement but he doesn’t dare laugh out loud.
I blush and look at the food. “I don’t eat much.”
He grunts. “I guess maybe I need to do some shopping if this is what you came up with.”
After a few seconds of awkward silence, he sits at the table and we eat the bacon and yogurt without speaking. His lips turn into a grin and he licks the bacon grease from them, smiling at me wider. I giggle and hand him a napkin, but instead he tugs me off my chair and into his lap.
“Let me down, let me down!” I squeak and playfully smack his arms. He lets me go and places me back in my own chair, laughing. I haven’t been flirted with in so long that I nearly missed the cues he was giving me. The wide-eyed, cheerful look on his face makes me smile the most genuine smile I’ve had in months. We continue to eat in happy silence, every few minutes grinning at each other around our full mouths.
He collects our dishes and puts them in the sink, then downs a glass of orange juice. He looks like his movements are thought-out and pre-planned, like he has to tell himself who he is before doing anything. He isn’t muscular like Ollie, but he’s not so bad. His dark hair is shining with pomade and he’s just ruggedly manicured enough it can’t be natural. While Ollie’s lips are full, Brandon’s are thinner and more serious-looking—except when he uses his wicked smile.
“I have to run out for a while…will you be okay here alone?”
I scoff. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”
He smiles and rubs his chin. “Not really—you could stand to eat a few cheeseburgers and not throw them back up.” He notices the horrified look on my face and shakes his head. “I heard you when we first met, in the hotel room. Don’t let me hear it again.” His eyes are shadowed now…and scary.
I open my mouth but don’t say anything. I don’t want to argue with him, so I let him feel superior for a few minutes as he pulls out his keys and leaves without so much as a goodbye. It’s not like he’d believe me about my nervous stomach even if I told him. I rush to the living room window and watch him leave, not really caring that he’s left me here alone.
I want to snoop anyways.
His bedroom is the farthest room away from mine, and I want to start there. There’s nothing out of the ordinary; his bed sits in the middle, a desk and chair pushed against one wall and a long dresser against another. The door leading to the master bathroom is open, so I peek inside and find nothing of interest in there, either.
There’s no evidence of Julie anywhere.
“Well, he must have gotten rid of all things Julie,” I tell myself out loud. When I see the closed door across the hall, I walk over and turn the doorknob, but it’s locked. I remember seeing a few small keys on his dresser, so I grab them and try them out. The third one opens the door, and I get an eerie feeling in my stomach because I know I shouldn’t be in here. I turn on the light anyway and see dozens of brown moving boxes lined up in rows around the room.
This is his life with Julie.
A whole life packed away in dozens of boxes.
I tear open the first box I reach and sift through its contents. I pull out pictures of various trips and outings—most with Julie and Brandon from years ago. I hear a noise downstairs, so I snatch a stack of photos and pocket them, close the door, and lock it back up. I almost forget to put the keys back on his dresser and race downstairs to find out that Brandon isn’t home after all.
I take the pictures from my pocket and sit on my bed. In each picture, they’re really close and almost always kissing. He smiled during their kisses, though…that was captured on film and guys don’t just do that with someone they aren’t in love with. As I get deeper in the stack, the pictures turn to Julie doing mundane things like laughing or washing the dishes. The last picture is Julie smiling and flipping the bird to the camera, and it makes me laugh a little.
I could probably like Julie if I hadn’t already burnt that bridge. She made that pretty clear when she hung up on me.
I stash the pictures in my underwear drawer and sit back down on the bed, looking around the room once more. I really hope all of this purple doesn’t make me vomit.
The pictures of Brandon kissing her make me want to vomit.
I have to make him forget about her.
This isn’t about getting Ollie back anymore—this is about getting the life that was meant for me to begin with. Brandon is messed up, sure, but I’m messed up too. We’ve never followed the rules and look where it’s gotten us. Although, following the rules never appealed much to me anyway.
My phone buzzes.
Lucy: Hey! The Tavern tonight? Are you sure you don’t want to come?
I smile at her offer.
Heather: No, thanks. I’m rearranging a hideous room. Have a good time and talk to a hottie for me!
I send her a smiley face and put the phone down. It actually turns out not to be such a bad idea to move some things around and do a little online shopping from my phone. I save several items to my cart; I’ll wait to pay for them until Brandon comes back.
Lucy doesn’t bother answering my text, and I don’t blame her. We just aren’t compatible as friends anymore.
I’m changing—things for me are changing. I just need to keep doing good things to keep up the good luck. I’m tired of messing things up for myself, and since I have no friends—or family—left to help me with my down-and-out luck…
…Brandon is my new best friend, boyfriend, and family wrapped up in one tight pair of black dress slacks.
Chapter Twelve
Oliver
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Am I dead?
I’m not fucking sure.
Are my eyes open?
I can’t see anything.
But…I can hear everything around me.
“Did you contact his wife?” I hear Dr. Johnson ask someone. I command my brain to tell my fingers to move…but nothing happens.
“Yes, but then Mr. Akers coded so I had to hang up with her. I told her who I was and where I was calling from, so I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”
“Make sure you follow up on that—he will need her here.”
This is it?
I think of all the shit I’ve been through in my life: my drug-addicted mother, my father dying when I was a teenager, my grandfather dying a few years later. Heather—the worst thing that ever happened to me—and Julie…the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Someone’s playing a sick joke on me, letting me find her and then ripping her away from me like this.
“Well, he’s stable enough for now, but she better get here soon. He might not make it through the night. The damage to his lung isn’t operable…at least not by anyone qualified enough here.”
Dammit fingers, move!
Julie will tell them to get someone to help me.
The voices are gone. I’m alone and I don’t fucking like it. I can feel the cold but nothing else; the air just feels so…sterile. This isn’t supposed to happen to me. I’m supposed to live a long and happy life and now that I have Julie…things were supposed to start getting even better.
The baby.
I’ll never know if there’s a baby now.
I want to thrash around in the bed; I want to cry and scream, but—
Am I even in a bed?
It feels like days since someone has been here with me; the voices were the only things letting me know for sure that I’m not dead. I wish I could’ve felt whatever they were doing to me when they spoke about it, putting tubes and needles in places every few minutes.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I hear her voice again, the second familiar one.
“Now, we have him stable enough, but he isn’t responsive.”
I can feel
her.
I can feel you, Julie!
I feel her rush to my side and whisper into my ear, “I thought you were dead.”
I’m not dead, I’m just not exactly alive.
Are you pregnant?
I love you.
Don’t forget me.
Nothing comes out.
I can’t even open my eyes to see her.
“What are his injuries?”
Wait. Who is that? Is that Casey?
My mind races and I start to get angry because they’ve come together.
What are they fucking doing together?
“And who are you?”
He clears his throat to answer, but Julie gets there first. “He’s with me.”
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Okay, I think you two better step outside.”
Not her! She stays!
“I’m not going anywhere. Casey, can you step out?”
My entire body blazes with fire. I want to fucking feel her touch. I swear that if I ever wake up, I will never take her for granted again. I’ll follow the fucking rules—I’ll be the perfect picture of a man she deserves.
“So, how bad is he?” Julie asks the second voice.
“Broken ribs, right leg is broken, but the biggest issues are the rips to his lungs and kidneys.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
Second voice doesn’t answer her.
Answer her, dammit!
“It’s too early to tell, but we can’t find anyone qualified enough to repair his lung. It takes a special surgeon—”
“Do it. Find them.” Julie’s voice is dark and strained.
I fucking love you, Julie.
You are everything I ever want in life.
“That could take some time,” second voice huffs.
Julie sighs and her voice gets angry. “You said yourself that he doesn’t have a lot of time. So maybe go find that surgeon and get him here instead of arguing with me? I will pay whatever it takes.”
“Miss, with all due respect—”
I hear the growl in Julie’s voice. “Now.”
