by Gia Riley
“When will I see you again, Nolan?”
“Later, if you want to.”
“Really?” I question. “That’s not too soon?”
He smiles and walks toward me, placing a hand on either side of my head. His palms are pressed flat against the wall, so I’m boxed in, staring into his stormy eyes. Eyes that have seen every inch of my naked body.
“I told you, I’m not giving up, Meadow.”
Reality is like a sucker punch to the gut because I’m positive he’s referring to my treatment and not us. But his body’s almost pressed against mine. If he didn’t feel it, too, he wouldn’t be this close.
Sometimes, you don’t need words to hear a person; you just feel them through a look or a smile. And all of Nolan’s smiles lead straight to my heart.
“Thank you,” I whisper, afraid that, if I talk too loudly, our moment will disappear.
“No thanks needed, gorgeous.”
Kiss me. Please. Anything to stop the ache between my legs.
“That’s three,” I remind him, loving that he’s made no effort to stop.
“So it is,” he says. “Now, let’s get you back to your room before I make it four.”
He removes his hands from the wall, steps backward, and takes all the oxygen in the room with him. Only once the door is open and we step into the hallway do I fill my lungs with air.
We’re halfway back to my room before I realize I’m still wearing his shirt. His cologne is just as strong as when I put it on, and I’m not ready to give it back to him yet. Maybe, if I wear it to bed, I’ll have even better dreams.
“Keep it,” he says.
I almost trip, as I’m so amazed at how well this man reads me. “You’re sure you’re not psychic?”
“You were fidgeting. I took a guess.”
“You guessed right.”
If his guesses are always spot-on, then I’m afraid to think around Nolan. My thoughts are usually dirty, so I imagine something safer, like Grandma and the farmhouse.
But, even from the grave, she’s snickering at the two of us, enjoying the mess she’s created.
Oh, Grandma.
I wish she’d tell me what to do next because she gave me Nolan, and then she disappeared. Now, I don’t ever want to give him up.
twenty-five
CASH
Since Meadow went to rehab, my head hasn’t been in the game. From the moment I wake up until I fall asleep, I’m still consumed by my wife.
I thought having her out of the house and someplace safe would lighten the weight on my shoulders, but that’s not the case. Finding the journal on her desk and reading the sexually explicit scenes made my head spin. I’ve had the longest twenty-four hours of my life.
Normally, I’d jog across the street, and Teddi would make me forget about my problems for a little while. We’d watch a movie and laugh at all the same parts or just sit and talk about stupid shit. But I screwed that up after I missed Meadow’s calls and took my frustrations out on her—the one person who’d been on my side, helping me since this whole nightmare started at the police station.
I made my friend cry.
All Teddi wanted was me.
Me.
She didn’t ask for promises or try to overstep any boundaries. Even when we were redoing my bedroom, steps away from a mattress, she ignored temptation and stuck to the job we needed to finish.
My own wife didn’t want to sleep beside me, and yet here I am, racing to the treatment center to see Meadow before work. Putting my day on hold because I’m worried about her. I should be worried about Teddi.
I’m not allowed in the building until six o’clock, and considering visiting hours don’t exist today, I’m pushing my luck. Again.
But I won’t be worth a damn until I see Meadow. I need to find out what that journal is about and why she is so protective of it.
Pulling into the first spot in the lot, I wait five painfully long minutes. The second I see an employee with a badge, I run to the doors.
“It’s an emergency,” I tell the man as he stares at me from the other side of the glass.
With a worried expression, he turns the lock and opens the door far enough to speak without yelling. “Sir, do you need help?”
I’m sure I look as desperate as I feel, but I don’t care.
“I need to speak to my wife, Meadow. She’s in room one-eleven.”
“Come inside,” he tells me. “The ladies at the desk can help you better than I can. I’m just the custodian.”
I couldn’t care less what his job title was. All that matters is that he’s leading me to someone who can get me inside Meadow’s room. I’ve prepared a speech in my head, and I’ll beg if I have to. But it doesn’t come to that.
Walking around the corner, Meadow runs her fingers through her hair and appreciatively looks up at some guy. I’ve seen that look on her face before. She used to look at me that way when we were together, happy and newly married.
I didn’t think I’d ever see that gleam in her eyes again, and now that I have, I’m jealous as hell. The jealousy builds when I notice her wearing a man’s shirt. I didn’t accidentally pack it for her; it’s not mine.
And, now, the words written in her journal are painfully clear. It wasn’t a therapy exercise or creative writing to pass the time. Those words aren’t fiction.
The proof is standing next to my wife, smiling at her like they’re concealing the world’s biggest secret—a hush-hush relationship in rehab that could get them both thrown out.
They’re not fooling anyone, especially not me.
I’ve never been a violent man, but when his fingers brush against hers, I imagine all the other ways he’s touched her. And I snap.
When I run toward them, Meadow spots me first. Her eyes are wide, and she yells, “Cash, no!” just as my fist connects with his jaw.
Falling backward, he bounces off the wall, not at all prepared for a fight. And why should he be? It’s six in the morning. He probably just woke up after sharing a bed with my wife all night.
I don’t understand why Meadow has so much freedom. She can’t handle it. Her decision-making skills are total shit; that’s how she ended up in rehab in the first place.
But, along with random drug testing, there’s supposed to be nightly bed checks. They assured me that, when I left Meadow here, she would be in the best hands, and they’d make her better.
And, now, look, we’re further apart than we’ve ever been. We’re not even in the same zip code anymore.
“You fucking asshole,” I yell as I rear my leg back to kick him while he’s down.
Meadow leaps in between us at the last second, taking the brunt of my shoe in her ribs.
Grimacing, she grabs her side, rolls onto her back, and struggles to catch her breath.
Time stands still.
A flashback of her on the backboard as she lay in the emergency room, waiting for more testing, sends me to my knees. “Meadow,” I whisper. “Baby, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t touch her,” the guy says through gritted teeth. He’s on the floor, not more than a foot away, trying to get his bearings back. “Someone call the fucking cops and get this deadbeat out of here!”
Deadbeat? That’s what he thinks I am? Some random person on the street who came here, looking for trouble?
He’s got another thing coming if that’s what he thinks this is.
“And, once the cops get here, you can explain to them why you spent the night with my wife,” I tell him.
“Wife?” he mutters. “You must be after the wrong damn person then.”
It takes all of her energy to speak, and when she does, Meadow rips my heart in half. “Stay. Away. Cash. Don’t touch me.”
The guy on the floor looks back and forth between the two of us, shocked that Meadow seems to know who I am. For a split second, I feel bad for him because she’s playing one of her games and messing with his head, probably to get her hands on some alcohol.
But t
hen I remember the journal, and whatever sympathy crept up disappears. I go right back to hating him, wishing I could punch him in the face a second time.
He starts to stand up, and Meadow reaches for him.
“Nolan, don’t leave. Please.”
He hesitates for a second, shaking his head to get rid of the stars he’s probably still seeing. Then, he says, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, gorgeous, but please tell me this guy isn’t really your husband.”
Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow to keep it down. Because I know Meadow wishes we weren’t married. She wants no ties to me whatsoever. She just wants him.
“Four,” she sputters with a weak smile that he returns, never directly answering his question.
But he knows. He feels the truth in the air all around him.
“Concentrate on breathing, Meadow. In and out. Not too fast. Try to slow down.”
Meadow closes her eyes and listens to his instructions. It’s like they’ve known each other forever, and I think I might throw up, so I turn around and run back outside.
Heaving all over the parking lot, I pound my fist against the ground. My knuckles split open, and blood gushes out.
How could this have happened?
I did everything right. No matter how much trouble Meadow got herself into, I figured out a way to keep her safe. I’ve lost nights of sleep. Days from work. Years from my life because of the stress and worry. And she’s here, playing house with some other guy. I can’t even be sure she’s taking her treatment seriously.
I have no room to talk. I’m guilty of doing the same damn thing with Teddi. If two wrongs made a right, we’d be set for life.
Teddi doesn’t feel wrong though. Being with her is the only part of my life that feels right these days, and I couldn’t walk away from her if I tried. Not right now. Not when things are still such a mess.
So, when I turn around and see the two of them holding hands, it still hurts like hell, but the urge to kill him isn’t as strong. I get it.
Fuck, do I get it.
A couple of minutes later, after I have nothing left to expel, an ambulance pulls up. The second I see the backboard and neck collar, I walk back inside.
What have I done?
There’s a crowd of people around Meadow, and just as the medics kneel beside her, I feel a warm hand on my shoulder.
“Cash, can I have a word with you? Ms. Lucia, remember?”
Of course I remember. She’s the one who promised to turn Meadow’s life around, and now, look at it. They’re about to take her to the hospital, and this whole insane journey is right back where it started.
“I need to talk to Meadow,” I tell her.
We can’t leave it like this.
“I don’t think this is the best time,” she says. “Why don’t we go talk in my office? I need to file an incident report.”
Not another report.
“Can’t it wait? I should stay with my wife.”
Flashing lights ricochet off the glass, and two officers step inside the center.
Police officers.
Ms. Lucia keeps an eye on me as she greets them. There’s a lot of whispering, some mentions of security camera footage, and then Meadow’s being wheeled by me. I follow, forgetting all about Ms. Lucia wanting to speak with me.
“Meadow, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I truly didn’t.
“Me neither, Cash,” she says, her face still twisted in pain. “But I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”
“What are you saying? You can’t leave rehab.”
“Me and you,” she whispers. “It’s killing me.”
I didn’t want it to end like this. I’ve tried so hard to prevent it.
“We are not breaking up in a parking lot, Meadow. You know I’d never lay a hand on you on purpose. Have I ever touched you?”
Before she has a chance to respond, Ms. Lucia steps in between us, making me look even guiltier. The medics take that as their opportunity to slide Meadow into the back of the ambulance. The guy I punched follows.
“Cash,” Ms. Lucia says, “we need you to come inside.”
“I’m not going inside. My wife is on her way to the hospital.”
“Stop calling me that!” Meadow yells as loudly as she can. It echoes inside the back of the ambulance.
I take a step toward my car, determined to see her one way or another, but Ms. Lucia moves in front of me, holding on to my arm.
“Given the circumstances, we’re requesting she doesn’t have any visitors. Both at the hospital and here.”
“What about him?” I say as I point to the ambulance. “I don’t care if they’re both patients here or not; they shouldn’t be in the same ambulance together. Or the same hospital!”
“You struck one of our therapists, Cash. If you won’t have a civil conversation with me in my office, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises. You won’t be allowed to see Meadow until further notice.”
“But I’m not the bad guy. I’d never hurt her.”
“You just did,” she says. “We’ll contact you when we’re ready for a meeting. Dr. Slater isn’t pressing charges at this time—as long as you leave.”
Doctor Slater?
“That was Dr. Slater? Her therapist?”
“Yes, her therapist. Whatever you thought you saw, you were mistaken. He’s one of our best, and he takes his job very seriously.”
Of course she’d cover for him. She has to. Because what doctor has office hours this early in the morning. What I saw looked bad. And she knows it.
“Ms. Lucia, I work for a lawyer. Are you sure you still want to keep me from seeing Meadow?”
She glances over her shoulder, and the officers walk toward me.
“I’m sorry, Cash. Threats won’t get you anywhere. Meadow’s health and safety are our priority.”
What about the journal in her room? If they’re so concerned with her care, then why isn’t anyone monitoring that? Because I don’t care how highly Ms. Lucia talks about Dr. Slater. Meadow has feelings for him.
“Do we have a problem here?” an officer questions.
Ms. Lucia purses her lips, her eyes pleading with me to do the right thing.
I’m not about to go to the police station again, so I say, “No.”
If I were to go back, I’d look like the crazy one, bloody hands and shirt, just like the last time.
I’ve lost my wife. I’m not about to lose my reputation, too.
twenty-six
CASH
It’s not even seven o’clock, and I’m almost home. I don’t have to be at the office until nine, but going inside and looking at the emptiness is too much for me to handle right now.
The more time I spend in the house without my wife, the more I want to burn it down. I made all those changes to make her more comfortable once she came home. For nothing.
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”
She’s finally given up on us. And, now, all I’m left with is a house that echoes Meadow with little reflections of Teddi sprinkled all over the place. Sometimes, I can smell both of their perfumes, depending on which room I’m in, and it’s driving me crazy.
Like a moth to a flame, the second I pull into the development, my car veers toward Teddi’s driveway. Just as I pull in, her garage door rises. She sees me and clutches the coffee between her hands.
I shouldn’t be here. I’m the biggest hypocrite; I know I am. But Teddi’s the only one who understands, the one person in my life who knows the whole story from start to finish, and doesn’t judge me.
Hell, she knows every last detail—the good, the bad, and the ugly—and she still wants me.
Fuck, I don’t deserve her.
She takes one look at my bloody shirt, and I wait for her to tell me to leave, but she doesn’t move. I’m not even sure she’s breathing.
I’m a proud man—I always have been—but I suck up my pride and say, “I’m sorry.”
“I hurt you.” That’s all I seem to be doing these days.
She doesn’t deny it. She just says, “From the looks of it, you’re hurting, too. What happened?”
“It’s over. I fucked it all up.”
“What’s over?” she asks.
“Meadow. My marriage. She just ended it, and I’m not allowed to see her, but that doesn’t even matter. She doesn’t want me. She hasn’t wanted me in a long time, and I’ve been too stubborn to accept it.”
“You love her, Cash. That has nothing to do with being stubborn. Life has been awful to the both of you.”
As always, she doesn’t focus on the faults, just the harsh reality of what we’ve been through.
“I’ll always love Meadow. But I don’t love the woman in rehab.”
It stings so damn bad to admit that out loud.
“You love who she was,” Teddi says. “I think anyone would try to hold on to what they had for as long as possible.”
“She’s not coming back though,” I tell her as my voice cracks. “That woman’s gone.”
I’ve known that for a long time, too. But I held out hope that I could fix my wife. That, if I just tried harder and pushed her in the right direction, we’d have our lives back. But fate has a way of playing whatever hand you’ve been dealt whether you want to fold or not. And, no matter how hard you try to change the outcome, it’s already set in stone.
“Cash, why do you have blood on you?”
I saw my knuckles split open and didn’t feel an ounce of pain. Just like when I’d jumped from the window and landed in the driveway, I kept going, numb to the world around me.
I’ve never felt that way with Teddi. When I’m with her, I feel everything.
Her voice always guts me because what she thinks matters. I care about her, probably as much as she cares about me. I might even love her, and that’s why I have to be honest—regardless of her reaction.
“Meadow’s in the hospital.” Just saying the words almost makes me throw up again.
I cover my face with my hands, waiting for her to tell me that she doesn’t want me on her property either. That I have to leave the only place where I’m happy.
