Fixed Infatuation

by Stacy Borel

  I was really enjoying he was sharing openly like this. “So do you have any more?”

  “Mhmm. So give me another one.”

  I pondered it for a moment. “A warm towel out of the dryer. But only when it’s been tumbling with a dryer sheet, and you just get out of the tub during the middle of winter and the house is a little cold.”

  He smiled but refrained from chuckling, which was what he wanted to do. Sitting here looking at him, his profile was perfect. If this man ever had kids, someone help the world because two Blake Whitmores running around was trouble.

  “The sounds of snow falling.”

  “Oh, good one.” I verbally high-fived him. “Especially up in the mountains and it’s totally still. Living in Boston I recall asking someone that once, if they could hear the snow falling. They looked at me like I was crazy. But in the city, they can’t.”

  “They don’t know what they’re missing.” He winked.

  We’d both said two and I felt warm and perfect. This moment was perfect. He was perfect. Life was good, and I didn’t know this kind of euphoria existed.

  If life were a physical person and it were sitting next to me in this car, it heard my thoughts. And as if telling me I didn’t deserve it, or I hadn’t worked hard enough to feel this kind of happiness, it chose to turn me upside down. One second I was looking at Blake and admiring how beautiful everything was, and the next, it was filled with pain.

  Blake saw the car cross the median. And I believe he did everything in his power to make sure my side didn’t take the brunt of the hit. I screamed and that was all I remembered before I was knocked out.

  Blake

  WHY DID THIS FEEL FAMILIAR? I was in this heavy groggy state that prevented me from opening my eyes like I was willing them to. Something was sticking to my finger and stabbing pain in my stomach confused me. What in the hell was going on? I heard voices and I tried to focus on them instead.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  It was Molly. Who was she talking to?

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  Dad?

  “I didn’t know who else to call. The hospital said they had you on record for a point of contact. I found your number in Blake’s phone.”

  Okay, no really, what the fuck is going on? Hospital?

  Dad grunted. “He and I, we, uh—we don’t talk much.”

  No kidding. Please go away. I don’t want you talking to her.

  I could picture Molly’s saddened face.

  “It’s okay.”

  There was silence. I wondered if they’d left, until I heard one of them shuffling their feet.

  “Did the doctor tell you what’s going on with him?”

  “No. Just asked what room number was his at the nurse’s desk,” Dad replied.

  “Would you like me to tell you what I know, or do you want to wait for him to wake up? They won’t give me many details because I’m not family.”

  “If you were with him, I’m sure you know him better than I do. So go ahead.”

  The very sound of his voice is agitating me.

  There was another pause.

  “We were in an accident on Highway 101 coming back from Victoria Island. A drunk driver crossed the road and nearly hit us head-on. Blake managed to swerve away from it, but the wet conditions caused us to slide down a steep muddy hill. I guess the back of the car clipped a tree and we rolled twice before stopping.”

  Oh my God, that’s right. I tried to avoid the oncoming car. It was a drunk fucking driver? How perfect. Go ahead and tell her how much you drink, Dad. Do it.

  “Blake had a collapsed lung, dislocated his hip, and a broken collarbone.”

  Jesus. Oh my God, Molly. She may be talking, but is she okay? Why am I just now thinking of this? Did I have brain trauma?

  “So why is he asleep?”

  I’m not. I just can’t open my damn eyes. Or maybe I can, but I’ll wait till you’re gone.

  “They gave him some morphine. That’s about all I know.”

  “Seem to know a lot.” More silence. “You’re a little banged up.”

  “I’m okay. My arm’s broken and the airbag hit my face, but I’m fine. Saved my life. I’m in better shape than he is, and he’s who I’m worried about right now.”

  Silence.

  “You been seeing my boy for a while?”

  “Kind of. He started working on my house a little over two months ago. I live across the street.”

  “Well, that’s convenient. You in that shit hole?”

  I didn’t like his tone with her.

  “I guess so. The house isn’t so bad.”

  She was being kind. She shouldn’t be.

  “Ever since his mother, Blake’s been out of touch with the family and ostracized himself.”

  Are you kidding me, old man? Molly, I hope to God you don’t believe him. That is the biggest damn lie I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.

  “From my understanding, you all placed blame on him for how she died, when it wasn’t his fault at all.” Her voice became defensive.

  Wait, she knows? How did she find out?

  “Then you heard wrong.”

  “No, I don’t think so, Mr. Whitmore.”

  Silence.

  “Did he also tell you he stole my company out from under me?”

  “No, he didn’t. But considering that I smell whiskey on your breath right now, and you appear to be slightly inebriated, I don’t think he stole anything from you as much as you were losing it on your own.”

  “You’ve got a mouth on you, girl.”

  Don’t fucking talk to her that way, old man. Rage was rolling through me and the beeping next to me had gotten a little faster. This whole thing was fucked up.

  “I do when I deem it necessary. But I’m not going to let you come in here and accuse him of something he didn’t do nor has he done. I’m very sorry about your wife, I truly am. I’ve lost my mother and I know how deep that pain goes. But to blame your kid is plain crazy.”

  “If the shoe fits.”

  I heard her sigh. “Listen, Mr. Whitmore.”

  “It’s Tom.”

  “Okay… Tom. I called you here because you are the only family near that could come and support him. He’s lying in a hospital bed with injuries and I’m certain he could use your love and compassion right now.”

  All he wants to do is get out of here so he can find his next drink. Stop trying, Molly.

  “Blake and I, we are long past any form of relationship. I don’t expect you to understand that. You didn’t know us when his mother was alive. She was driving him to his game and he was late. As always, Blake was running late. If he’d been on time, it would have never happened and his mom would be sitting here next to him.”

  I felt like I was being strangled to death. He was right. I was notorious for being late. It was something I beat myself up over for years. There was a lump in my throat that had formed and I was doing my best not to let tears fall. I wouldn’t do it. Not in front of him. And I’d never let Molly see me like that.

  “Tom, I think you need to leave.”

  “Probably right.”

  “If you’d do me a favor. An act of kindness toward your son if you will. Stop at the nurse’s station on your way out and sign something that states the doctors can speak to me about Blake’s condition. At least someone can be here for him while he heals.”

  I heard nothing after that. It was such a long pause I wondered if both of them had walked out of the room to go talk to someone. But then I felt Molly’s small hand touch mine.

  She sniffled. “I’m sorry. That was a huge mistake. I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah,” I croaked. My throat felt like there was a fireball in it. “It really was.”

  “Blake?”

  I winced at the bright lights in my eyes, but I slowly opened them.

  “You heard?”

  “Water,” I said.

  Molly moved to the sink and got me a small Styrofoam cup filled
with water and came back. I took a small sip and nearly groaned at the feeling as it wet my throat.

  She reached forward to touch my face, but I leaned back. Seeing my reaction, she dropped her hand. “Blake, what’s the matter?”

  I put the cup down on the rolling table beside me. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

  “I didn’t think it was important.”

  I glowered. “You didn’t think it was important for you to mention that you went digging for information about me? What, did you read it on the Internet?”

  She shook her head. “What? No, I didn’t go digging for anything. They were talking about it at the coffee shop and I overheard.”

  That pissed me off even more. “You’re saying some random people were talking about an accident that took place eighteen years ago, right in front of you, and you happened to hear the conversation?”

  Her brows scrunched together. The movement made her suck in a breath. She had the start of a black eye, and seeing her casted arm made me want to pull her to me and comfort her. I wanted nothing more than to be away from this place and inspect every inch of her so I could ensure for myself that she was in fact okay. But my anger was trumping those emotions.

  “It was your little friend, Lauren. She was speaking to an old classmate of yours. I had no idea they were going to start talking about it in front of me. In fact, I think she did it on purpose. Blake, I didn’t go searching for information about you. You told me your mom had passed away and I didn’t ask anything else. I even asked Sandra if she thought it was a good idea that I talk to you about what I heard. She said to leave it alone. You’d come to me in your own time.”

  That had my blood boiling. “Great! So Sandra knows too?”

  “Blake,” she protested. “It wasn’t like that at all.”

  I brought my hand up to stop her. My shoulder that didn’t have some weird contraption on it prevented me from moving my other arm. “No, Molly. I don’t want to hear it. I’ve been with you this entire weekend and not once did you bring it up. How long have you known?”

  She looked down at the floor. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “The day after you left for your trip.”

  “Perfect,” I mocked. “Even better. You know what? For my entire adult life, I’ve dealt with people who’ve blamed me for something that could have been avoided. I lost the most important person in my life, and I had no support to help me deal with my own grief. I waded through those waters by my fucking self.” I was seething the more I spoke. “When you came along, you were a breath of fresh air. You gave me honesty when everyone else whispered behind my back. Except you picked this one thing to hold back on because why? You wanted me to be the one to tell you? Well, let me tell you.”

  The tears were now freely flowing down her red cheeks. “Blake, please.”

  “My mother was severed. The car we were in rolled and it was split down the side she was sitting on. She was in pieces while I lived. She didn’t have a fighting chance. She didn’t get to watch me graduate and walk across the stage. She didn’t get to hug me when my dad gave me majority of the company. She was put into an infirmary and burned her body and now her ashes sit somewhere on my dad’s mantle like she can watch over fucking Christmases and birthdays.”

  “I’m sorry, Blake. I really am. I had no idea it was so bad.”

  I frowned. “That’s because you didn’t bother to ask. I’m sick and tired of people tiptoeing around me when all I want is to confront it head-on. Not one person has bothered to ask me how I’ve dealt with everything. Not even you.”

  Molly wiped at her eyes and tried to reach out to me again. I shifted away from her, and winced in pain

  “I’d like you to leave.”

  “Blake, you’re overreacting. If you had just given me a chance to find the right time… I could have spoken to you.”

  “The right time was when you overheard. The right time would have been opening your mouth and letting words out the second you saw me. The right time would have been trusting me enough to share such a colossal mishap in my life and giving me the opportunity to tell someone for a change.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  I looked her dead in the eyes and made my demand again. “Leave, Molly.”

  Her lower lip quivered. I nearly cracked. I was hurting her. Once that rock started rolling down the hill, it picked up too much speed and I couldn’t stop it. She didn’t bother grabbing anything on her way out. She was gone.

  This was now exactly as it had been eighteen years ago. I was alone in a hospital room, and alone to deal with my grief and pain.

  Blake

  Two months later

  I WAS STOPPING BY MY HOUSE during my lunch break to change my clothes. I’d been on a job site that had me covered in plaster and paint. As I pulled up, I noticed there was a van parked in front of Molly’s house. It said ‘Frankland contracting.’ It was my biggest competitor in the area. A pang of jealousy and anger shot through me.

  It had been a long recovery. After I left the hospital, I’d been given a pile of pain medication and instructions to rest for at least four weeks. They had wanted to set me up with physical therapy to help with any residual pain that would assist in movement of my shoulder and hip. I all but told them they could screw off. I had no interest in staying in that place longer than I needed to be. They kept me for two more days after my dad had come and I’d kicked Molly out.

  My words damaged her. I knew I’d break her eventually. Being around me and that close to me could only end in regret. I wished like hell it wouldn’t have happened the way it did. My physical pain from the accident was nothing compared to how shitty I felt dealing with every day not being able to go to her house and check on her.

  I didn’t see her for a while after I’d gotten home. An entire two weeks passed before I caught a glimpse of her walking out to her car. I tried from a distance to inspect her to see if she was healing okay, but it only left me agitated. She still had a cast on, but that’s all I could tell from here. Seeing her again was a reminder of my own level of cruelty. I deserved to be alone. I never deserved her.

  Molly was sunshine and ice cream on a hot day. She was warmth and that fresh towel out of the dryer during the cold. She was rain on a tin roof. And she was that fresh cut grass that filled even me with excitement. She was everything that brought happiness when everything else in this world was bad. She had become my new favorite thing. I didn’t know that feeling could be wrapped into a person. But it did. It hadn’t taken me long to come to the conclusion I’d fallen for her. I’d ruined her, and she hated me.

  Seeing the van parked at her house twisted my gut. She was still remodeling the house. There wasn’t a ton left over when we’d left for Canada. But there were definitely things she wouldn’t be able to do on her own. At least that’s what I continuously told her. But my little spitfire would have attempted to do it by herself, no doubt about it. Frankland had a few good contractors on their team, but none of them were as good as me. That may be cocky, but it was true. Molly had to have gotten to a point of desperation to have called in help.

  My stomach dropped knowing she didn’t come to me.

  I grabbed a clean shirt off my dresser and headed back out. I needed to leave and get some fresh air. As I walked to my car, she came out beside an older man with graying hair. He wasn’t someone I recognized. She was talking to him and I heard their faint voices. I’d stopped in my tracks and watched. She smiled politely at him and he reached out to shake her hand. When the man went to leave she twisted to go back inside. That’s when she saw me standing here watching her.

  I swallowed. I had no idea what I needed to do in this moment, but I wished it consisted of me marching across the street, picking her up, and carrying her inside to make love to her. I wanted to smatter her in kisses and tell her I loved her and would never be such an idiot again. I wanted to raise my hand to give a subtle wave.

  She was close enough that I could see her biting
her lip and she looked like she was trying not to cry. It pierced my heart. What was I doing standing here? Fucking go to her, you idiot.

  I’d taken too long. Molly walked back in her house and left me standing there looking at a big fat nothing. I sighed. This was exactly what I deserved. When I saw her curtains drawing shut, I knew she was trying to close me out. She was done with me. I needed to leave. Finding a way to move on from the best thing that had ever happened to me was something I didn’t want to do but would have to.

  Molly

  Three months after the accident

  I LOOKED IN THE MIRROR AND there were dark circles under my eyes. My hair hadn’t been washed in almost five days and it looked like a bird had been nesting in it. My black eye had long been gone, and my cast had been cut off. I’d regained full use of my arm, but there was parts of me that were still so tattered that no doctor could see it, test for it, or feel for it. It wasn’t like a lump hidden under my skin, or a rash that itched. My heart was shattered.

  All of my previous relationships had been ones that had ebbs and flows. And when they didn’t seem to be going anywhere, they were mutually ended. While I felt sad about something not working out, I knew it wasn’t meant to be. That kind of sadness didn’t run this deep. It never left me in a zombie like state that made me not want to function. I felt like someone had died. I had no idea if it hurt even worse that the person I wanted to see more than anything was not dead, he was alive and well and living fifty yards away.

  A few drunken nights here and there, Sandra had to talk to me out of going over to Blake’s house and giving him a piece of my mind. She said it would make me feel worse and only pathetic women did that. To leave it to the movies and Nicolas Sparks books. Life wasn’t a sappy love song and forgiveness was passed out like Valentine’s Day cards you gave to everyone as kids. She said he had to earn my forgiveness.

  When my cast came off, I was more than ready to get back to work and try to form some sort of semblance of my old normal. I’d noticed my poor stories had taken a turn down a darker path and my characters were sadder. I wasn’t one to write dark romance, but it seemed like the perfect time to do it. I had to write what I felt.