The Butterfly Box_A SASS Anthology

by Anthology

  “Why don’t you come have a seat, dear. I’ll fix you a cup of coffee and you can tell me what has you so upset.”

  I sniff back the tears prickling my eyes and nod. I walk over to the empty counter which is usually bustling full with patrons and pull out a stool. “I let him go,” I whisper sadly, dropping myself onto the black metal seat and resting my elbows on the wooden countertop. “I let him walk out and I didn’t stop him.”

  “I'm afraid I don't understand, dear. Surely, you can call him, no?”

  “I’ve tried. I keep getting his voicemail. He’s not answering, and I can’t say I blame him after everything.”

  “After everything? Why don't you start by telling me what happened?”

  “We fought, Addy. Well, we didn’t really fight, because that actually requires two people to talk, and that was the problem. I didn’t say anything. He gave me his heart, and I just sat there. I didn’t give him mine in return.”

  “Well, of course, you didn’t, my dear. Do you know why?”

  I shake my head, not understanding.

  “Because he already had it. And judging by the state you are in, it’s obvious he still does.”

  “Is that true?”

  The deep voice echoing over my silence has me immediately rotating on my seat, and the sight of Sam standing in the doorway causes my heart to take off in my chest.

  “Sam.” His name leaves me on a whisper, and I fight the urge to run to him and bury myself in his arms.

  “I think your bell needs replacing, Addy,” he says, pointing up and gesturing to the bell above his head, all the while his eyes continue to hold mine.

  “I’ll make note of that.”

  I can practically hear the smile in Addy’s tone as she shuffles behind me, and I assume she has returned to the pan of muffins she had left on the counter when I first arrived, wrapping and stocking them so they are ready for the early morning rush.

  “Is it true?” He repeats the question as his feet move across the laminate floor, slowly eliminating the distance between us. Reaching me, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close as if he is going to claim my mouth with his, but stops before our lips touch. “Does your heart belong to me?”

  I tilt my head back and catch the hopeful look in his eyes, the look that reconfirms, without a doubt, I am in love with this man. Pressing my hand to his chest, I close my eyes and concentrate on the beats pounding furiously beneath my palm, and it’s now that I realize, these two hearts of ours were always meant to beat for each other. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry I let you walk out, but, Sam, you need to know something. You need to know that I’m in love with you. I love you.”

  The words have barely left my mouth before Sam’s lips are meeting and covering mine, his hold on me tightening as his tongue sweeps in and takes control. He kisses me like he’s never kissed me before, and the kiss is filled with so much emotion and passion, it leaves me weak in the knees. I fall into him, and as I do, he breaks our kiss, grabbing me by my hand and dragging me toward the door.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, nearly breathless and stumbling over my own feet.

  “My house.”

  “Your house, why?”

  He stops abruptly, causing me to collide straight into his warm wall of muscle, and he grins at me. Leaning down and bringing his mouth to my ear so that Addy can’t hear, he whispers, “So I can show you, without words, just how much I love you.”

  PLACING THE LAST of the shirts in the box, I fold its flaps closed and push to my feet, spinning around the room with my hands on my hips. It’s taken me almost eighteen months to find the strength to do this, to finally pack up and donate all of Adam’s belongings, and I can honestly say, I’m not as sad as I thought I’d be, nor is there an ache in my chest. I’ll always think of him. I’ll always love him, and although he’s not here, I can’t help but feel as if he’s been watching over me this entire time. Even if I didn’t realize it, Adam’s ‘always forever’ was a promise he kept even after he was gone. You see, it lived on in his heart. And his heart now lives on in Sam; a man who has come into my life and has become more than my everything.

  Sam has taught me it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to let go, because letting go doesn’t mean you have to forget. It doesn’t mean you have to pretend to be okay or to be happy. There are days when I’m neither of those things, and that’s all right. It’s all right because it's all a part of this process that at some point in our lives, we will all inevitably endure.

  It's all a part of healing.

  The End

  “YOU KNOW I love you, Amie, it kills me to see you this way. But, you have so much on your plate right now that I think maybe it’s best if we postpone the wedding. I feel like I need to give you space to process everything and to get yourself healthy. You understand, don’t you?”

  Nate’s words replay on a loop in my mind.

  “Ma’am?” The young nurse is looking at me expectantly. She must’ve asked me a question, but hell if I know what it was. And, what the shit with all that ‘ma’am’ business? I’m thirty years old. My stomach clenches. I may be young, but apparently I’m past the middle of my life now. Guess I’d better get to work on that midlife crisis.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” I ask, shaking my head to try to clear it. I feel like I’ve been in a fog the past few weeks. I can’t seem to figure out which way is up.

  “I asked if you have someone coming to take you home.”

  The thing is I don’t blame Nate that much for bailing on me. I would bail too if I could. Even before I ended up hospitalized I’d been sick for weeks. I could hardly get out of bed. Then two weeks ago he came home to me passed out in a pool of my own bloody vomit. And that brings us here, to this very moment. I’m finally being discharged after two weeks practically tied to a hospital bed.

  “I called a cab,” I mumble. How fucking sad is it that I don’t have anyone to drive me home from the hospital? To be fair, my parents would if they didn’t live three states away. And, as far as they know Nate is here taking care of me, driving me home, doing all the things a fiancé should be doing in this situation.

  “Alright, I’ll send a CNA in with a wheelchair to take you downstairs. I know you have a lot of medications, and I’m sure a lot of information to process. Do you have any questions I can answer before you leave?”

  I shake my head, doing my best to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach and the burning in my eyes. I’m not going to cry in front of this poor nurse. I’ll wait ‘til I get home to my empty apartment. I have endless amounts of time to cry by myself at this point. I understand everything about my meds and about my disease. I have a medical degree, after all. Veterinary medicine, but physiology isn’t so different between species. I know what it means when the doctor tells me I only have thirty percent kidney function. I understand perfectly well how sick the medications I have to take to suppress my immune system will make me. And, I could write a scholarly paper about how I’m more likely to die from a secondary infection than from the disease that landed me in the hospital two weeks ago.

  “Thank you for everything.” I force myself to smile at the nurse. She really was helpful and kind to me over the past two weeks.

  “You’re more than welcome. Take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you back here.”

  “I’ll try.”

  THE QUIET OF my apartment is starting to give me hives. I never thought I’d say this but I’m starting to hate living alone. A year and a half ago when Kristen- my last girlfriend-moved out I vowed that I would be a lone wolf from here on out. Trying to make someone else happy all of the time is too much pressure. I can’t even make myself happy. How the fuck do I qualify to be responsible for someone else’s happiness?

  I slip on my shoes and grab the keys to my bike. My Ducati is the only thing I’ve been interested in committing to recently. Well, that’s not entirely true. There’s one other thing I’d be willing to put some emotion
al energy into…

  “Hey, Amie,” I nod hello to my neighbor as she fumbles with her keys. My heart rate automatically triples every time I see her. I’m pretty sure it’s part of the reason Kristen left me. She caught me checking out Amie a few too many times. And she never appreciated how I was always willing to fix things around Amie’s apartment for her. Up until last year, that is, when her fiancé moved in. Now we have more of a ‘nodding hello when we see each other in the hallway’ type of relationship.

  “Hey, Parker,” she says, giving me a tight smile. I pause and take in her appearance. She looks like shit. I mean, she looks great, Amie always looks great. But, her blonde hair is hanging in dirty clumps and her skin is pale and waxen. She looks ill.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, noticing how her hands are shaking slightly as she tries to get the key into the lock.

  “Fucking peachy,” she murmurs before disappearing into her apartment.

  It takes a lot for me to resist the urge to knock on her door and demand she tell me what’s wrong. It’s not my business. We’re neighbors, nothing more. Even if I’ve thought about her naked multiple times a day since the first time we met three years ago.

  I let out a long sigh and spin my keys around my index finger before turning and jogging down the stairs.

  My bike purrs to life between my legs. Fucking perfection. Give me my bike and the open road and nothing else in the world matters. I peal out of the parking lot and take a deep breath as the moonlight bathes my skin and the wind begins to whip past my face. The only thing that could possibly make this any better would be Amie’s sexy legs on either side of me, her arms wrapped around my stomach.

  I can still remember the day we met like it was yesterday.

  “Someone must be moving in next door,” my buddy Dawson comments at the sound of furniture scraping and doors banging.

  “Wow, way to work that one out Sherlock.”

  Dawson gives me the finger and I bark out a laugh.

  “I just hope whoever is moving in doesn’t have a huge stick up their ass like the last neighbor. That lady complained if I so much as sneezed.”

  “Well, we both know you’re not having wall shaking sex over here so I don’t see what the problem is,” he taunts. It’s my turn to give him the finger.

  “Fuck you dude, the ladies love a fireman and you know it.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t get a woman. I’m saying you don’t bother very often.”

  “Eh, fair enough.” I shrug. He’s right. It’s not that I don’t like sex, believe me I do. I guess I’m just one of those weird guys who’d rather have a relationship than a random hookup.

  A loud crash sounds in the hallway. I decide to do the neighborly thing and see if I can lend a hand. I stride toward the door and pull it open.

  I’m met with a sight that stops me in my tracks. She’s on her hands and knees, with random shit scattered on the floor around her, a torn box beside her. Even though she looks like she’s about two seconds from going Hulk she’s fucking gorgeous. Her blond hair is hanging around her face and shoulders. Her shorts are riding up just enough for me to get a little peek at the curve of her ass. Her pouty lips are formed into an annoyed frown and her green eyes are almost hypnotizing.

  I quickly kneel down and start helping her gather her stuff up.

  “Thanks. Gotta love moving day.” She gives me a grateful smile.

  “Oh yeah. Always fun.”

  “I’m Amie,” she says, standing and holding out a hand for me to shake. I grasp her hand, reveling in how smooth her skin is.

  “Parker,” I introduce myself. “Do you need help with any of your big stuff? Or is your boyfriend helping with that?”

  “Wow, that was smooth, Parker.”

  My name on her lips it’s too damn hot.

  “So is that a ‘no’ on the boyfriend then?”

  She laughs and gives my shoulder a playful shove.

  “What if I do have a boyfriend, but he’s not here helping me?”

  “Then he’s a shit boyfriend,” I challenge with a smirk.

  “Fair enough. No boyfriend actually, and I would appreciate the help. I’ll even spring for pizza when we’re done as a thank you.”

  “No problem. Let me grab my buddy and we’ll get to work.”

  I head back into my apartment to put on my shoes and grab Dawson while she finishes gathering up the rest of her scattered belongings.

  “Hey Daws, we’re going to help my new neighbor out.”

  Dawson gives me a knowing smile.

  “Is she hot?”

  I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face and gives me away.

  “Dude, you can’t bang your neighbor.”

  “Why not?”

  “Think about how awkward that could end up being. This is a woman you’re likely going to run into on a daily basis.”

  My smile fades from my face. Damn, he’s totally right.

  He claps me on the back and laughs.

  “Come on, let’s go move heavy shit for a chick you can’t fuck.”

  I groan in frustration before I follow him out the door.

  IT DOESN’T TAKE long with the three of us hauling boxes and furniture to get all of Amie’s things into her new apartment. She calls in a pizza and the three of us lounge in her living room with a few beers.

  “You’re a musician, that’s so cool,” she says to Dawson with a smile. I try not to let her see me bristle. Damn Dawson, women love musicians. And if he thinks he’s going to try to hook up with her when he just warned me about the very same thing, he’s got another thing coming. Dawson isn’t looking for a girlfriend, only casual sex. He gave his heart away years ago to his childhood best friend. But that’s a story for another day.

  “Yeah, I play drums and guitar. Drums are my favorite though. I’m still looking for a band, so hopefully that’ll play out soon.”

  “That’s cool. What about you, Parker?”

  “I’m a firefighter.”

  Her eyes light up at my answer. Okay, I’ll admit, being a firefighter is almost as much of a panty dropper as being a musician. The flash of lust in her eyes is a true test of my resolve. She’s too desirable for her own good.

  “Well, now I’m glad I don’t have a boyfriend,” she says before taking a sip of beer. Is she flirting with me? She totally is.

  Over the next few hours and a couple of pizzas I discovered we share a love of the band Panic! At the Disco, as well as an addiction to Netflix original shows. Although, she loves comedy movies where I prefer horror.

  “Come on, you have to give the Texas Chainsaw remake a chance.”

  “Too scary,” she says, shaking her head quickly.

  “I’ll make you a deal. You watch that with me, and I’ll give Stepbrother’s a chance.”

  “Deal.” she agrees. And thus begins our two-year long tradition of movie nights every weekend.

  That was three years ago. Three years and my attraction for her hasn’t faded one bit.

  As I fly down the highway on my bike I see the neon light for Dawson’s and my usual bar and decide to stop in to see if he’s hanging out.

  I slide onto the empty barstool beside my best friend and wave at the busy bartender to let him know I’m ready when he has a second.

  “Hey there, rock star.” I clap him on the back and give him a cheeky grin to go along with my teasing greeting.

  “Just because women are literally throwing their panties at me is no reason to be jealous.”

  “Dude, no chick throws her panties at the drummer. Just because panties are flying in your vicinity doesn’t mean they’re for you.”

  “Speaking of panties that aren’t for you...how’s desperate crush on your hot neighbor coming along?” He taunts back. This is what I love about Dawson, the brotastic teasing and good natured ribbing.

  “The usual,” I answer. The bartender stops by and I order a beer. “What if you were wrong when you told me I should keep my hands off her? Now
she’s going to marry someone else and I’m going to have to just sit back and watch it happen.”

  “Women are trouble man, that’s why I’ve been telling you for years it’s better to be an island. Don’t ever get emotionally invested in a woman, they’ll tear your heart out every time.” He laments into his beer.

  “I know you act like you have a heart of stone, but if your girl showed back up today out of the blue you’d fall on your knees and beg her never to leave you again.”

  He scowls at me but doesn’t deny it. I didn’t meet Dawson until after his girl ghosted on him eight years ago. But, I do know I’ve never seen him look at another woman with the same look in his eyes he had the one night he got drunk enough to tell me about the one that got away.

  “It’s a moot point, man. Your girl is marrying someone else, and my girl disappeared on me without a fucking word. Neither of us are going to get any fairy tale happily ever after. It’s harsh but it’s reality.”

  I let the heavy feeling of despair settle in my gut as I finish my beer and wave goodbye to Dawson in favor of my bike and the open road.

  I’M LOUNGING ON my couch, with my hand down my pants, because that’s how guys lay around the house. Don’t let any guy lie and tell you he doesn’t do that shit. A knock on my door makes me grunt in annoyance. It’s probably Dawson and I’m just not in the mood to socialize today. I’ve been a grumpy bastard since Kristen left. I’m thinking it has more to do with the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in a year than the fact that Kristen is gone.

  One Year Ago

  “Hey, Parker.” My heart leaps into my throat at the sound of Amie’s voice. You’d think after two years of living next door to her, and a year of having a live in girlfriend, my reaction to Amie would have faded. But nope. Every time I hear her voice, catch a whiff of her floral scent, or a glimpse of that cute little ass, my whole body instantly goes on high alert.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Can’t complain. Well, I could, but I won’t.”