Faith (Stregth Series Book 2)

by T. L. Nicholas

  He sits down across from me, “I don’t know. Haven’t decided yet if you’re worth fixing.”

  I nod, appreciating his ability to sting. “Nice. I didn’t know I had any feelings left. I hope that was the last one.”

  He smiles, “Pretty sure it’s not, so you might want to brace yourself.”

  “Shows what you know,” I answer, getting up to get a drink. He watches me, and I consider running, but he’s faster than me, and I know it. I get a mug of coffee and sit back down. “I thought you wanted me to eat breakfast. There’s nothing here.”

  He reaches into a cabinet in the island, retrieving a granola bar, and shoves it at me. “I hate granola bars,” I say, but it’s not true. I love granola bars. Or I used to.

  He stares at me for what seems like forever, until I open the package and take a bite. “Why do you care if I eat?” I ask.

  “If you’re going to get this shit out of your system, you need food.”

  “What shit out of my system? You think I can just get never having a family out of my system? You think I can just get a baby out of my system? Just get it out of my system that no one is ever going to love me? I did a horrible thing, and now I have to pay. I would think you could relate, but no, I just have to get it out of my system? Fuck you, Ben.”

  His eyes don’t change, he doesn’t even twitch. “No, I think you have to get the rest of the medication out of your system. You’re coming off, and you’re coming off hard. Sometimes it goes that way,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

  “I can’t have kids or the life I always dreamed of, and you think medication did this to me? Damn, Ben, I thought you were smarter than that. You never can tell with people, can you?” I hate myself. I hate him. I hate Jace. I hate everyone.

  “No, you never can. Take you, for instance, I thought you were a sweet kid. A lot like my kid sister. I really couldn’t have been more wrong,” he says.

  I laugh, “That’s me. A constant disappointment. Just ask my mother, or Jace. He’s closer, ask him, he’ll tell you.”

  I take another bite of the granola bar.

  He shakes his head, green eyes sparkling, “Why should I ask anyone? Why don’t you tell me? You already know it all, why should I hear it second hand? You tell me.”

  “Why? You don’t want to waste time hearing about my life.”

  He laughs, “Sunshine, I’ve got nothing but time. Why don’t you tell me what happened last night?” he asks.

  “No. I don’t want to talk about that,” I say. I take several long gulps of coffee, to make the point that I’m not talking.

  “Okay. Then how about I tell you what I know about last night, and then you can fill in anything you think is wrong, or that I forgot.”

  I shake my head, no. He smiles, “You’re kind of a captive audience, kid, so I’ll just do what I want. Last night, you freaked out because Jace thought there could be the possibility of you getting pregnant, and you heard him say that he wanted kids. Since you apparently can’t have kids, you assumed that he would be done with you, and you had a break down. How am I doing so far?”

  I cross my arms in front of me, “I didn’t assume anything, it’s fact.”

  “Okay, we can debate that later. Anyway, you started screaming at him to leave, and then you started hyperventilating. He grabbed you, to calm you down, and you punched him a couple of times, looks like you have a pretty nice right hook, by the way, and he tackled you. He held you down, while you screamed at him to let you die, over and over. And then, just when he thought you were getting somewhere, getting it all out, you told him to let you go, and you’d end it yourself.”

  I hurt Jace. When I end it, I sure know how to make sure there’s nothing left. I lock my eyes on his, “I never said any of that out loud.”

  “Then how would I know you said it?” he asks.

  I don’t have an answer for that, so I just stare back at him.

  “Do you know what happened next?” he asks.

  I shake my head, taking another bite of granola bar, just to have something to do with my hands.

  “You eventually fell asleep, but there was a lot of screaming about wanting to die before that happened. Jace moved you to the couch, and sat in front of it, watching you, all night long, terrified that if he fell asleep, you’d wake up and kill yourself” — I wince, imagining what he must have felt — “and he called me at six to tell me he wouldn’t be out to the house today. He sounded awful, and I got part of it out of him, and came over. He called the doctor, who suggested we have you committed on a seventy-two hour hold.”

  “I’m not insane.”

  “No one said you are, but you were a danger to yourself last night, and a danger to others if Jace’s face is any indication.”

  “I don’t remember hitting him. I felt trapped, and I just wanted to get away. I didn’t mean to hurt him, Ben. I don’t want to be committed,” I try to plead with him.

  “I know that. He knows that, Bayleigh. We don’t want to have you committed.”

  “So… I’m not going to be committed? I don’t understand. Why are you here then?” I ask.

  “I’m here to help Jace, to make sure you don’t hurt yourself until the symptoms are gone.”

  I put my head down, staring at my hands, while I play with the empty granola bar wrapper, “It’s not a symptom, Ben. I can’t deal with this. Everything is so fucked up.”

  “Yeah, it is. Life is pretty fucked up, Bayleigh, but we’ll get you through it,” he says.

  “What if I don’t want to get through it?” I ask, feeling the tears slide down my cheeks.

  “Then we’ll just hang on until you do. Jace needs sleep, so you’re with me until he wakes up. What do you want to do?”

  I stare at him, feeling nothing. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I know, you want to die. But what good would it do, Bayleigh? What would it fix?”

  “I wouldn’t have to feel it anymore. You don’t know how much it hurts, Ben. I can’t feel anything but pain.”

  He reaches across the island, engulfing my hand in his huge one. I want to pull away, but he’s warm and gentle, and it’s nice to have contact. “I do know how it feels, Bayleigh. I know how you feel.”

  “You can’t. I’m never going to be a mom, and it’s my fault.”

  “Okay, so it’s a little different, but I spent months devising a way to end it all. In the end, the only way I could manage it, being locked up and all, was to start a fight and sucker punch one of the higher ups in a prison gang. It didn’t work out as I’d hoped. I was stabbed seventeen times, but not one of the fuckers hit true enough to kill me. I can’t tell you how unbelievably pissed off I was. I went to all that trouble, to get beat to death, or, fuck, at least strangled, and they couldn’t even do that right.” He laughs. “Of course, I shouldn’t have been surprised. They were all in jail, so they can’t be very good at being criminals either.”

  “That can’t be true, why would you want to die?”

  “Oh, it’s true” — he stands up lifting his shirt, and I see tattoos, a well-developed stomach and chest, and scars. Lots of scars. He turns around and they’re on his back too, so many scars— “but a better question would be, why would I want to live? I grew up poor, my mom died of cancer when I was ten. My dad took care of me and my sister, but he wasn’t especially good at it. He went out with the guys a lot, and had a little bit of a temper when he was lit. It’s a typical story, nothing special, but I loved them, both of them, with everything I had. When my sister got sick, I worked my ass off to make sure she had everything she needed. She was my world. When she died, I floundered for a little while, but then I met my ex. She was sweet and funny, and reminded me a little of my sister, but not in a creepy way or anything, not like you do. We got married and started thinking about a family, but then dad got sick. He had lung cancer and they caught it late. I barely had time to process that he was dying, before it seemed like he would be gone any minute”— he pauses, taking a deep
breath — “I didn’t handle it well.”

  “I was an asshole, picking fights with my ex and staying out all night drinking. It was all falling apart and I couldn’t bring myself to even try to fix it. All I could do was keep pushing. I wanted her to leave, and every day I was scared to death that she was going to. Then I came home one night, drunk as usual, and she was packing. She was doing it, and I told her to fucking go. Save herself, jump ship like the rat she was, just get the fuck out” — he makes a fist, green eyes watery with pain and shame — “I was horrible. I was a monster. And, you know, she didn’t deserve that. She was good to me, she put up with more shit than anyone should ever have to, but all I could see was how much better off she’d be without me, how much less it would hurt if I could just get it over with.”

  I nod, tears sliding down my cheeks for him. I know what he means.

  “People like us, kid? We don’t rely on people. We don’t know how. We can’t. We’re never fucking good enough to sit on our asses and take. We have to earn what we have, every goddamned crumb, because when we slip, for even a second, everything crashes down around us. That’s why Jace eats at you so much. You can’t understand why he just keeps giving, and everything he gives is one more thing you’ll never be able to repay.”

  I want to nod, I want to jump up and yell ‘hallelujah’, because someone actually understands, but I don’t. “Okay. So, she left?”

  He nods, “Yeah, she left. Or I think so. I left, ran away from my own words, like always, and I never saw the other car. I woke up in the hospital and they told me I killed her. I accepted it, because, well… of course I did. Of course I killed someone. That’s just the kind of career fuck up I am. I went right from the hospital to jail, and tried to keep myself in the frame of mind that this is what I deserved. That I was paying for killing her, for letting my sister die, for treating my ex like shit, this was the penance. I didn’t get out on bail because I couldn’t afford it, and when they gave me three years it was like being kicked in the face. That wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to pay for everything I owed. The judge felt that I had a true grasp of what I had done, that I felt extreme remorse for my actions, so he gave me the minimum. I was pissed. How could he do this to me? I deserved twenty years, life even.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

  “I came to terms with it, slowly, then dad died and they wouldn’t even let me out for his funeral. Again, I told myself this was karma, just making sure I was punished enough for my many crimes. I had a year left on my sentence when I was served with divorce papers. It wasn’t unexpected, she had only visited one time, when my dad died, and wrote to me only every few months. Even so, when I went to the court hearing for the divorce, and I saw her, happy and glowing, seven or eight months pregnant, with a man who I had called a friend’s arm around her? Something inside me snapped. I broke. I wanted to die, truly, because I couldn’t see past it. I couldn’t imagine a world that wouldn’t hurt so much I couldn’t get back up.”

  He gets up, making me another cup of coffee, and even though he does it wrong, not enough sugar and too much milk, I drink it.

  “So, you sucker punched a gang leader?” I ask.

  “No, not the leader, I couldn’t get to him, but I would’ve if the opportunity presented itself. He wasn’t that high up, but high enough that I knew the rest of the gang would retaliate quickly and viciously. I gave them too much credit though, and I woke up in the hospital, cuffed to a bed. You know what that feels like,” he says, and grins.

  I nod, smiling back. “It was a little different since I had chest drains, and all kinds of IV’s, tubes, and shit. I couldn’t believe it. The physical pain was pretty mind-blowing, and really I would’ve given my left nut to go back to the mental pain I had before.”

  I laugh, his choice of words making me think of Mike. “Is that how you got over wanting to die?”

  He grins. “No, a nurse kicked my ass.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was an older woman, really tiny, like you. You could see she was a beauty back in the day, and she was so prim and proper seeming. She was changing the stuff around the chest tube, and it felt like lightning in my chest. I yelped, and said something like ‘next time I’m going to make sure I die’ and she slapped me. Like, full on, no hesitation, smacked me right across the face” — he laughs, head back, shoulders shaking, and I laugh too, imagining it — “I don’t know which one of us was more surprised, but she recovered quicker than me. She pointed her finger at me, ‘Young man, you weren’t given life just so you could throw it away. If it’s not working, figure out what will work and do that instead. I don’t know what you’re in prison for, and I really don’t care, you’re an able-bodied, well, you will be an able-bodied, able-minded, handsome young man. What the hell makes you think you get to decide whether you live or die? You’re alive because someone in this world needs you. Don’t you make it worse by killing yourself! You don’t know who will die because you weren’t there later.’”

  “I hadn’t ever thought of it that way. I was pretty sure she was wrong, that my life was going to be an endless hell until I finally died, but I wasn’t sure I should risk it. I mean, I couldn’t see any possibility of me being anyone’s saving grace, but I’m still here, waiting.”

  I roll my eyes, “So you think you’re still alive to save me?” I ask.

  He laughs, “Oh hell no. This isn’t a Lifetime movie. I’m just here for reinforcement while you figure out how the fuck to save yourself. I don’t need that kind of pressure.”

  A laugh bursts out of me, his words are so unexpected. “What pressure?”

  “Well, if I was responsible for saving you and I failed, Jace would kill me. That would have worked for me a couple of years ago, but now? Nah. I’m going to hang around for a little while. I have a pretty cool job, a boss I really like, and his girlfriend is a huge pain in my ass, but… since she’s the reason I have the cool job and great boss, I’ve decided I can tolerate her.”

  “You don’t pay attention very well, Ben. I’m not his girlfriend anymore. If I ever was.”

  “I know you think that, but I also know Jace doesn’t think that. He’s in this, Bayleigh, with you, so you’re going to have to figure it out.”

  “Figure what out? There’s nothing to figure out. He’ll come to his senses in a few days and see that I’m not what he needs.” I answer.

  He stares me down, “And you’re going to make sure of that, aren’t you? You’re going to push and push, until he believes the very last place you want to be in this world is next to him. Don’t do that, Bayleigh. I’ve read that book and I know how it ends. So do you. It’s not fair to make a decision for someone else like that.”

  “It wouldn’t be my decision, it would be his, and he needs to do what’s right for him.”

  “It would be your decision, Bayleigh. I may not be able to stop you, but I won’t let you act like you’re doing something honorable, for him. I did that already, remember? I know what it looks like. I will remind you, every fucking second of every goddamned day, that you’re doing it for you. You’re doing it so you don’t have to worry about letting him down later. It will be your decision, because you know, you fucking know, whether you can admit it or not, he’ll never walk away as long as you want him, so you’ll make him believe that you don’t.”

  “You think you know me, but you don’t, Ben. I am doing it for him. I’m not you.”

  He laughs. “Oh, you’re me, kid, and you’re not pissed that I know you so well, without even really knowing you at all, you’re pissed because I won’t let you be a martyr. I won’t let you play this game, where you get to sacrifice yourself for the ‘greater good’.”

  I stand up, and he does too, making it clear that I’m not going anywhere without him. “You don’t know Jace either. What do you think? You eat dinner with us, you work with him for a little while and then you’re like best friends or something? Is that how you ended up with a friend fucking your wife?” As soon
as the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “No, I ended up with my friend fucking my wife because I was in prison. Because my world wasn’t falling apart fast enough for me, so I started tearing it down with my bare fucking hands. It’s the same thing you’re doing, Bayleigh, and you’re pissed because you know I’m right.”

  I try to push past him, but he’s almost as tall as Jace, and twice as built. Immovable as a mountain, he smiles down at me. “You want to run? Yeah, you want to run, but you’re not running from me, you’re trying to run from yourself. Hate to tell you, Sunshine, there’s nowhere far enough to outrun your own mind.”

  I am so tired of this. “He thinks he wants me, but he doesn’t, Ben. You say you know me so well? If that’s true, you know I’m not the best thing for Jace. I’ll ruin him. He thinks he’ll be okay without a family, but later, when it comes down to it, he’s going to resent me. We’ll be sitting on the porch of his little house, old and gray, and he’ll be talking about how nice it would be to have grandkids running around. And what am I going to say then? No, honey, you chose me, remember?”

  “You haven’t been to Jace’s house, have you?” he asks.

  “What? No. What the hell does that have to do with anything?” I ask.

  “Nothing. I just didn’t realize you hadn’t been there,” he says.

  “Well, actually, it does have something to do with it, doesn’t it? He’s willing to throw away his chance at having a little Jace running around, for someone he doesn’t even trust enough to take to his beloved house? That doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it?”

  Green eyes thoughtful, he studies me for a long moment, “If you want the truth, ah hell, even if you don’t you’re going to get it. The truth is, I would say that the man sleeping upstairs right now, loves his house. You can see it in every nail, every molding, every window, the man loves his house. But, yet, here he is, in his brother’s house, living out of a bag, or a suitcase or whatever, to be here with you. So, yeah, he loves his house, but I gotta tell you, Sunshine, I think he loves you more.”