by Wendy Owens
“No, he can’t—you have to get him out of here. I can’t talk to him,” I pleaded, turning back to the three sets of eyes staring at me.
Christian stepped forward. “Emmie, I have never seen my brother like this before. I don’t think I could drag him out of here.”
“I know it’s scary sweetheart,” my mother added, her face masked with concern.
“It’s terrifying. If I go out there I might not be able to say no. I’m not ready for this. I need more time,” I moaned. All I could think about was crawling back into my bed, pulling the blankets over my head, pushing it all away. My face was suddenly hot, and I could feel the moisture building up behind my lids, close to tears already.
Lovingly, my mother picked up a jacket that was lying across the back of a chair near the door. She draped it over my shoulders and squeezed my arm gently. Coming close to my ear she whispered, “You can do this.”
I smiled. She had been my strength for so long. She picked me up when I had decided it hurt too much to continue breathing. She was the one who reminded me survival was just putting one foot in front of the other. She had survived so much pain herself, I couldn’t keep bringing my mess and dropping it in her lap.
Taking a deep breath, I made up my mind and opened the front door. Nobody said a word as I exited. I’m not sure if it was because they didn’t want to spook me, or if they simply didn’t know what to say.
As I approached him, I could see him stiffen, stand upright, and pull his strong jaw from the shelter of his coat. He smiled with only half of his mouth, and I felt my knees go weak. We both stayed quiet, neither sure who should speak the first word. I came to rest next to him, turning to look back at the modest, wooden framed home, pressing my back against the car to give me support.
“Merry Christmas.” Colin was the first to mutter words. I smiled; it was so Colin to open like that.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, deciding to stick with playing it cool.
“Paige said some things that needed some clarity, and well, honestly, I needed to see your face. You mom was nice enough to email me her address,” Colin explained.
“What?” The loving woman who always had my back had already taken sides. I had been double-crossed.
“Em, I love you. I don’t care about anything else other than being with you. Don’t you get that?” I couldn’t look at him as he spoke—it was killing me.
“You have no idea who I am. How can you say you love me?” I pushed back.
He turned toward me, trying to get me to look at him, but I still refused. “So tell me then, I’m listening. What is so terrible about you that I wouldn’t love you? That you’ve been married before? Paige told me. I’m not scared off that easily.”
He needed me to give him the cold, hard truth if he was going to let go of me. I faced him, looking up into his pained eyes. Damn it. That was a mistake. How can he look so damn sexy and sad at the same time. “You want to know who I am? All the wretched details? Would that make you happy?”
“All I’ve ever wanted is to get to know you. I don’t think anything you ever did would be as terrible as you think. At least not in my eyes.”
“We’ll see,” I began, starting to tremble as I spoke. “I was married. I got married right after high school, actually.”
“Emmie, a lot of people make that mistake.” Colin’s attempts to console me were only making me angry. The fact that he thought a simple divorce would be what upset me this much made me realize how much this information was going to level him.
“Damn it, Colin, do you want to know or not?” I snapped, shifting my eyes wildly as I struggled not to cry.
He nodded.
“His name was Ashton. A couple years in, the cracks started showing. I tried, but things just got worse. We were both miserable, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it. One night, he was wasted—he could barely stand. I told him I was done. He begged me, he cried. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except myself, and what I wanted. I was finally being selfish. I’d given him too much of myself for far too long. I wanted freedom—from him, from that God-forsaken suffocating small town. He told me if I left him he would kill himself. He had said it so many times I didn’t believe him. It was how he controlled me.”
As I retold the night I could see the scene unfolding as if it had only happened moment ago. I flinched as I heard the gun shot ring out in my thoughts. I couldn’t say the words to him. I couldn’t tell Colin that I drove a man I once loved to kill himself. How could I possibly tell the man I now loved that I was a murderer?
“Fuck, Em,” Colin whispered, pulling me close to him, resting his chin on the top of my head. He was so warm, I told myself to push him away, but my body wasn’t listening. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, baby.”
“Don’t you get it? I’m the reason he’s dead,” I moaned, digging my face deeper into his chest, unable to stop the flood of sobs.
“No, you’re the reason I’m alive,” Colin whispered, pulling away slightly and lifting my face, our eyes locking. Pressing his thumbs against my ice cold dampened cheeks he wiped away my tears, pressing his lips to mine. I sniffed, barely able to breath from the crying fit, but losing the oxygen was worth it. His lips parted mine, instantly warming my body all over, despite the chill around us.
When our lips separated it felt like a piece of my own soul was being torn away. I wanted to surround myself with him, wear him like a coat that would protect me from all of the pain in the world. “You don’t hate me?” I asked in disbelief.
Colin laughed softly. “I’m crazy about you, Em. I could never hate you.”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand… I’m cursed. If you’re with me it will mean you only end up getting hurt.”
Colin took a firm hold of my arms, staring at me intensely. “Listen to me. My life started when you gave us a chance. Don’t take that away from either of us.”
It was no use—there were parts of me shouting to stay strong, but he was here, looking into my eyes, touching me. His presence created a helpless hunger in me I couldn’t resist. He was doing exactly what I knew he would if I saw him face to face. I was literally swooning.
“Well, I did already get you a Christmas gift.” I wondered if I had actually just said those ridiculous words.
He released a husky laugh, pleased with the progress he was making with me. “Oh yeah? What did you get me?”
Yup, I had said it.
“I brought it with me, actually,” I added, slipping my arm into his as we started walking toward the house.
“What is it?” he asked, clearly puzzled. But before I could answer he quickly asked, “Wait, so you knew I’d come after you? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I know everything, don’t you know that?” I retorted playfully. It was clear to me that Colin wasn’t going to let me get rid of him easily, and perhaps, if I were honest with myself for a moment, I didn’t want to let him go. I just needed to figure out how to get the rest of me to stop thinking about Ashton anytime I thought I might be experiencing a little too much happiness.
“I forget sometimes,” he said with a smile. Before we even reached the front porch the door flew open and an audience who had clearly been watching the entire show from the window greeted us.
“Our address, Mom? Really?” I asked, giving the woman who had given me life an evil stare.
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now get in here before you freeze.”
“Are you ever going to take that thing off from around your neck?” I asked, grabbing a hold of the chain and giving it a yank.
Colin pulled away from me defensively, shielding his precious treasure. “Um—never!” he exclaimed.
I laughed, thrilled by my excellent Christmas gift giving skills. The idea struck me about a week after the show with The Lumineers. Colin and his brother were playing around on their guitars, yet another talent I didn’t kn
ow he possessed, when my love started complaining about his cheap pick.
I remembered seeing an artisan at the local crafters’ market who created custom metal stamped items. After a little searching on the internet I ordered a silver pick with the words ‘Stubborn Love’ engraved on it. The woman even offered to ad a punch hole so it could be worn on a chain. While I thought that was an excellent idea, I was surprised he hadn’t taken it off for five days straight.
“You’re crazy,” I replied lightly, laying my head against his chest.
“Are you excited about your gift at all?” Colin asked, as I watched his chest moving up and down. Snuggling together on his oversized couch had become one of my favorite things to do.
“Seriously? How can you even ask that? Although you spent too much,” I reminded him.
“How do you know how much I spent? Maybe I got a great deal,” Colin teased.
“Because I know even with a deal a giant European-style easel was too expensive.”
“You love it, though?” he asked again.
I thought about his question for a moment. “You know what I like best about it?”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It smells like you,” I replied, breathing him in deeply.
Amused, his chest vibrated as he laughed. “And what exactly do I smell like?”
“Wood,” I quickly answered.
Leaning forward and cocking his head, he attempted to get a better look at my face, but I wasn’t about to budge from my comfortable spot, using him as my pillow. “Wood, really? I smell like wood.” He sniffed his shoulders for a trace of the odor.
“It’s not a bad thing. I love it. I think it’s a construction smell.”
“A construction smell, huh?” he teased, a sarcastic expression on his face.
“Are you making fun of me?” I asked, pretending to be angry.
“Never.”
“Speaking of construction, I still can’t believe how much you got done on this place the week I was gone.” I glanced around the open room; the walls had been finished and painted a pristine white. The kitchen was completed, including the subway tile backsplash. The only thing they were waiting on was the marble slab on the island to be installed.
“I told you, as soon as you left I couldn’t sleep. What else was I supposed to do?”
“It really is beautiful, babe,” I stated, running my fingertips up and down his arm, which hung over my shoulder.
“It will be even more beautiful when you get your paintings in here… or am I going to have to find a new painter for hire?” Colin attempted to goad me.
“I’m just waiting to see if I’m chosen for the gallery project,” I replied matter of fact.
Lowering his brow, he questioned, “Why does that matter?”
“Because if my work is picked, it means my prices for you will go up dramatically.”
Dropping his jaw in shock, I was suddenly overwhelmed by his firm tickling fingers, wrapping and working their way across my midsection. “Oh, is that right?”
I squealed, then panted and begged for a reprieve, but he wouldn’t relent.
“Oh God, they’re at it again,” Christian moaned as he and Paige walked into the main living area.
Breaking free from Colin’s grasp, I fled to the other end of the couch, attempting to catch my breath.
“Hey you two, what are you guys up to tonight?” Colin asked, sounding very fatherly, but not removing his eyes from me.
“Well, we had hoped to stay in and watch a movie, but it looks like you guys have the couch pretty much monopolized,” Christian growled.
“Wow, someone’s in a mood,” Colin commented, glancing back at his brother.
“He’s been like this all day,” Paige added, walking past him.
“Like what?” Christian demanded.
“Why don’t we all hang out and watch a movie together?” I suggested, attempting to change the subject.
“Great, I’ll make popcorn,” Paige said walking into the kitchen. “Oh, Emmie, that box set of Cards Against Humanity just came in… you want to run over to our place and grab them?”
“Sure,” I replied, standing.
“Yes!” Christian said raising his hands above his head as if to indicate a score. “Some C-A-H would totally rock.”
“Am I the only person in the world who hasn’t played this yet?” Colin asked looking around the room.
After a brief moment of silence Christian was pleased to be the one to confirm, “Yeah bro, you might be the lamest dude I know.”
“Ha ha, real funny. You want me to go with you, hon?” Colin asked as I slid my feet into my oversized rain boots.
“Nah, I’ll be right back. Keep my spot warm,” I instructed, turning and rushing out the door. Colin and I had been inseparable since the flight home. When I was with him I didn’t think about Ashton or his family. I certainly didn’t think about Stryker. I only had another week before school was starting back up, and I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him.
Slipping my key into the security door, I took the stairs two by two, eager to return to my beloved’s side. When I reached the hall my breath caught in my throat, and I instantly froze. Standing just outside my door, staring at me with the same eyes as his son was Ashton’s father.
“Clementine,” he said softly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. For an older gentleman, Robert was quite handsome. Ashton had his mom’s hair color, but the rest of him was all his father.
“Mr. Stirling, what are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“When I told your downstairs neighbor I was your father-in-law she was nice enough to let me in. Curious thing, though, she asked when you and Colin got married.”
I didn’t know why I suddenly felt like a teenager, explaining myself, as if I had done something wrong. “I’m sorry Mr. Stirling. I know I should have stayed in better contact.”
“I understand, child. I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind. Could I come in?” he asked.
I hesitated; the idea of being alone with him after what Stryker must have told him scared me. “My friends are waiting for me.”
“I won’t be long, and I’ve come a long way. Could you give a few minutes to someone who used to be family?” Suddenly I remembered there was so much more Ashton and his father had in common—they were both excellent at manipulating people.
“Of course,” I relented, unlocking the door, allowing him to enter first. I followed him to the living room, waiting for him to sit, but he did not. Instead he stood near the window, staring out into the night street.
“Nice place you have here, Clementine,” he added, glancing in my direction. I stood behind the couch, wanting with every fiber of my being to duck down and hide behind it.
“Thank you, I live here with my room mate, P—”
“Yes, Paige. Well, you know I already know all of these things,” Mr. Stirling continued. “It seems silly to pretend otherwise.”
“Yes, about that. I’m not really sure why you would think you had to go to such drastic measures. If you had any questions I would have been happy to answer them for you.” What I actually wanted to do was scream at the man, tell him that he had set a psychopath loose on me. But I couldn’t. I knew he was just hurting, confused by what Ashton had done, and like the rest of us, he was trying to find a way to move on.
“I’m not so sure about that, Clementine. You and your mom leave town with barely a word. I find out you reverted back to your maiden name. Your mom doesn’t answer our correspondence. What’s a man to think?” His questions were pointed, his stare cold.
“I know I could have handled things better—so many times I thought about picking up the phone and calling Maggie… I mean, Mrs. Stirling. I wasn’t sure what to say,” I explained, wishing he knew how sincerely I had not wished to perpetuate their pain. We were all grieving in our own way.
“It broke her
heart, Clementine. She lost her only son, and then when you disappeared it was like losing a daughter, too.”
“I know, and I said I’m sorry.”
“Seems like you’re sorry about a lot of things. At least that’s what you say.” Robert took a step closer and my heart began to race.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” I shifted uncomfortably in my galoshes.
“Stryker told me what you said happened that night with Ashton. That you told him he should go ahead and kill himself. Are you sorry about that, Clementine?”
I had never hated my name more than when I heard him speak it, the loathing sent chills down my spine. “You have no idea how much I regret the way that happened. I’ve thought about it every day. I didn’t think he was serious,” I stammered through the excuses.
“Yeah, it seems you’re really broken up. So you think about him when you’re shacked up with this Colin character?”
“It’s not like that,” I insisted. With each step he moved toward me, I matched with my own step backward until at last my back was pressed against the wall.
“Please, sir. You have to believe me. I loved Ashton. If I had known—”
“Don’t you dare desecrate his memory by saying you loved him,” he growled, now only inches away from me. I couldn’t speak; the same fear I had once felt at the hands of his son I was experiencing in that moment. Grabbing hold of my arms he shook me, a fire in his eyes as he shouted, “You’ll see. I’m going to have you brought up on murder charges. We’ll see how happy you and your little boy wonder are then.”
“Please, I didn’t—” I begged, tears running down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, wishing it were over.
“You were never good enough for him. Some stupid town slut—I told him—but would he listen, no.”
I opened my eyes and watched in horror as he drew his hand back, preparing to strike me, the rage in his eyes causing me to squeeze them shut once again. I preferred the darkness rather than the way I was reflected in those despair filled pools.
The strike against my cheek caused a ringing in my ears, which for a moment deafened all other sounds. In a way it was a relief, as I couldn’t hear his venomous shouts any longer. I fell to the floor, curling into a tight ball, attempting to close so tightly into myself, he might decide I wasn’t worth the effort.
