“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring us a drink,” he says, popping the cork on a bottle of wine.
I take a deep breath and lean back into the soft leather of the sofa, relaxing in the coolness of the hide. Alex hands me a glass as he takes his seat next to me. His thigh brushes mine, quickening my pulse. As if I weren’t nervous enough about telling him the truth, now I have to try to control my hormones too. I let the wine soak into my bloodstream before I start. Alex is so patient, asking if I need another glass when I finish the first. I set the empty glass on the dark wood coffee table then brace myself.
I figure I might as well start at the beginning. I haven’t talked about that night since my first visit with Dr. Owen. That’s been almost two years ago. I don’t know how far I’ll get before I can’t go anymore, but I’m willing to try. And that’s a pretty good first step. I swallow hard then turn to face him, tucking one leg under my butt.
“I want you to know it’s okay if this changes how you feel about letting me stay here,” I tell him. After all, a man I believed loved me, turned on me- wants to harm me- because of what I’ve done. I can’t expect someone I hardly know to understand.
“Emma…” he starts, but I interrupt, placing a finger over his lips.
“I need to do this while I have the nerve. If you go and say something sweet and endearing, I’ll probably chicken out and just want to kiss you again instead.” He smiles beneath my fingertip. “Okay, then. Here goes…” I move my hand from his mouth, holding it in my lap, allowing me to nervously toy with my fingernails. “Bastain… that’s his name… he hasn’t always been the way he is now. We went to college together. We hung out almost every weekend. We used to be close.” Alex huffs, unimpressed, but I continue. “I made him this way. I did this to him.”
“Emma…”
“Alex, please.” I need to do this. The gates have been opened and I need to set these demons free, as much for myself as for him. The original anxiety of the moment is dissipating, replaced with an overwhelming desire to cleanse. I haven’t said any of this out loud in years. It’s been a storm brewing inside my soul, growing darker and darker. It’s time to let it go. It’s time to let the sun shine through. “I killed his brother.” I killed Bronson.
The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them. My vision is blurred by the water in my eyes. Alex doesn’t move. I don’t know what I expected. I guess I thought he’d jump off the sofa, speed dialing 911 with a look of horror on his face. He doesn’t do any of that. He just watches in awe as I blink back tears and find the strength to keep going.
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was raining. And dark.” My memory immediately transports my mind back to that night, bringing back the visions as if I were living them again for the first time. “I was driving. There was road construction.” I squint my eyes, the same way I did then, fighting to focus. “I couldn’t see. It was raining so hard.” My voice becomes more frantic as the visions become clearer. “There was a concrete wall. The kind they have sometimes on interstates. I wasn’t going that fast…” I can’t do this. I can’t relive it like this, in front of him. He sets his wine glass on the table then places his hand on mine, letting me know he’s still here. He’s still with me. And I can do this. I can keep going.
I stop fidgeting with my nails and lock my fingers with his. “There was an eighteen-wheeler. It kept spewing rain from the road onto my windshield. I couldn’t see. So, I tried to pass him. I had to get away from the spray.” Even now, I will slow down to a near crawl before I pass a big rig on the highway. And I never drive in the rain. “I didn’t see the other car in the left lane. I had to slam on my brakes.” Alex squeezes my hand, knowing what comes next. “The car slid. We hit the concrete barrier.”
“You don’t have to do this, love,” he says, the pain in his eyes reflected in his voice.
I nod my head, “Yes, I do. I need this.” Rather than blinking back the tears this time, I let them fall. I let them cleanse. He gives a single nod of agreement, then brings his thumb to my cheek, wiping away the evidence of my sadness. “Bronson was in the passenger seat. Bastain was in the back. Bronson wasn’t wearing his seat belt. His body…” My eyes force themselves closed, trying to shut out the memory. But, there’s nothing that could erase that moment. It’s embedded in my brain. It haunts me. Every. Single. Day. “He flew through the windshield. I couldn’t stop him. I tried. But I just couldn’t stop him.” I remember hearing myself scream, thinking it was coming from someone else. I remember reaching across the car and grabbing for his shirt but not being able to find it. I remember flinching as shards of glass sliced my arms and face. Then everything went black.
Alex closes his eyes. Maybe he’s trying to block out the vision, too. I don’t blame him. I’d give anything to be able to unsee it. “You didn’t kill anyone, Emma. It was an accident. You have to forgive yourself.”
I can’t. A man is dead because of me. And I know now that Bastain hasn’t forgiven me either.
I pull my hand away from his long enough to wipe my eyes. Then I readjust myself for the rest of my confession. “There’s more.” Alex wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against his chest, giving me the strength to continue. “After the accident, Bastain and I got really close. I guess you could say we found comfort in each other because we were both there. We both lived with the memories.” Bastain would spend hours consoling me then hold me when I fell asleep crying. He would wrap me in his arms when I would wake up in a cold sweat from the nightmares. We never talked about it, but it was always there. After a while, we just became a couple. He seemed so strong then. Who knows… Maybe that was all an act too. “Bastain and Bronson’s parents had a hard time dealing with what happened.” This is when everything changed. This is the moment I stopped being taken care of and became the caretaker. This is when I started living my life making up for my mistake. “Bastain’s father committed suicide a month after Bronson died.” Because of something I did.
I feel Alex’s chest heave as he sucks in a deep breath. I don’t blame him if he asks me to leave. This is a lot to take in. Just saying it out loud is almost too much for me to bear. I can’t look up at him. I don’t think I can handle what I’d find. So, I stay here, staring at the hot pink cotton of his polo and praying I haven’t lost him. “Oh, love. I’m so sorry.” He kisses the top of my head.
He’s sorry? For me? Why? Hasn’t he been listening to anything I’ve said? I pull my head from his chest and let my gaze meet his. There’s no judgement there. He’s not disgusted. His eyes are soft and kind… and gentle, the way they were the night he brought me to the back of his gym and bandaged my wounds. I don’t understand. He’s not angry. He isn’t blaming me. He doesn’t want me to leave.
“His mom had some kind of mental breakdown and was hospitalized for a long time. Bastain hasn’t spoken to her in years. He tries. She won’t have anything to do with him. I did that. He lost his entire family because of my carelessness.”
“Is that why you stay?” he asks, “Because you feel guilty?”
Yes. And it saddens me that it took me this long to figure that out.
“Not at first. At first things weren’t…” I still can’t admit I’m that woman. I let myself become what I swore I’d never be. For my own sanity, I have to believe that at one time Bastain was a good man. There’s no way I would have fallen in love with a monster. “He wasn’t always controlling, manipulative. He used to be sad and lost. There was a time when everything I did was to help him heal. I truly believed I could bring him happiness again, even if it meant sacrificing my own. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”
“You should never have to sacrifice your happiness for someone else’s.” I know that now. “How many times has he hit you?”
I knew he didn’t buy the glass door story. He’s never mentioned it or called me out, but I knew he saw the truth. But he’s got the wrong idea. Bastain isn’t abusive. Not physically anyway. He may have b
een manipulating my emotions for years, but until Santana’s party, he’s never laid a finger on me. “It’s not what you think.”
“No?” There’s a bite in his tone. “Because I remember quite vividly you showing up at my gym…”
“I know what you remember. That was the first time. And there hasn’t been anything since.”
I don’t mean to snap at him. My nerves are going haywire from the roller coaster ride I’m taking them on. The look in his eye tells me he doesn’t believe me.
“Then what are we running from?”
Ouch. I guess the days of beating around the bush are a thing of the past. I didn’t want to have to bring up Gatsby or what happened earlier today with Bastain, but I’m sitting on his sofa leading him into the darkest depths of my soul. I can afford to tell him the truth about why I’m here.
“He’s changed. He’s never scared me before. But something happened today. I can’t go back there, Alex. He’s dangerous.”
Alex scoots to the edge of the sofa, like he’s gearing his body to stand up. “Did he hurt you?”
I shove the memory of Gatsby lying in a blanket, buried in the woods, to a place in my heart where I can keep it locked up tight until I’m ready to deal with it. My heart can’t take any more pain. Not tonight. “Not physically, no.”
“Emma, I need you to talk to me. What did he do?”
“I had a dog… Gatsby…” I choke on my words, working to find the courage to tell him what happened. The way he’s looking at me is so sincere, like he genuinely cares. I haven’t had anyone look at me like that in a long time. It makes it easier. “Bastain…” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Alex’s palm slides tentatively over the side of my cheek, his thumb whispering trails across my skin as he cradles my face.
“Ssshhh… It’s okay. You don’t have to finish. I can guess the rest.”
Oh, thank God. Even the strongest people have their breaking point, and I’m about to reach mine. “He said he wanted me to know what loss feels like. He told me I took everything from him, and he’s right. I did. So, you see, he might be a monster now. But he was once a human being, a kind, gentle human being. I did this. I stole his soul and made him the man he is. So, I have no right to hate him. I created him.”
Alex
Five years. She’s been carrying this burden on her heart for five years. I can hear the pain in her voice, see the remorse in her eyes. This woman, this remarkable, beautiful woman, is so incredibly shattered on the inside. I’m overcome by the all-consuming need to open her heart and pick up all those tiny pieces and put them back together, one-by-one.
And this man, this man she trusted, the man she loved, has been killing her softly with sharp words and double-edged anger. Something tells me he won’t stop until she’s completely gone.
The grief in her eyes and the way she said, “had,” when she spoke about her dog tells me all I need to know about this guy, Bastain. I make a vow to her and to myself at that very moment he will never hurt her again. Even after everything he’s done, she still blames herself. That thought alone makes my blood boil.
“Emma, sweetheart, you didn’t create that monster. He was always there, hiding, waiting, watching for the right moment to appear.” I expect an argument, but she doesn’t reply. Her eyes search mine for an explanation, answers, hope. She’s built a wall, tall and wide, and damn near impossible for any one person to tear down. But that doesn’t mean I can’t climb over it and meet her on the other side. Then we can tear it down together. “You can’t save everyone. Some people have to save themselves. People are who they are, love. Nothing we do, good or bad, will change that. You didn’t decide how he would react to grief, to pain. He did. You didn’t harden his heart. He did that on his own. Things happen to us sometimes. Shitty things. Unspeakable things. And the way we deal with them defines who we are.” Trust me on this.
I want to kill this bastard for making her feel this way. The tears have dried from her eyes, but she’s still not speaking. I know she’s listening. I can only pray it’s sinking in. She scoots to the edge of the sofa, her leg against my leg, placing her hand on my thigh. Fuck, I can’t concentrate when she’s touching me like this. “Like you,” I continue, trying to corral my thoughts. “You’ve been through so much. You’ve lived with all this pain and guilt, and yet your main priority was always him, helping him heal. Your excuses for him prove that after all he’s done now, you’d still try to help him. You could have given up so many times. You could have just laid down and died. Hell, Emma, you could give up now. But you haven’t. You can’t. It’s not in you. You’re here. You’re fighting. And you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I stop her. “I let you have your time. Now I need you to let me have mine. Let me take care of you. Let me wash it all away.”
She nods in agreement, “Okay,” she whispers. Without saying another word, I lift her up and carry her to my bedroom.
***
Emma rests on my bed, where I sat her, while I run a tub full of hot water and bubbles. As much as I want to lie her down and bury myself inside her, I need to take this slow. Now isn’t the time to hide behind physical desires. This is about building trust, making her feel safe. I need her to know she’s spent enough time carrying the weight alone. I need to show her there’s someone here willing to take her load.
“Ready?”
She rolls her neck on her shoulders and groans. This is going to take a lot of self control. “So ready,” she almost sings.
Keep your shit together, Alex. Remember why you’re doing this.
She looks over her shoulder at me, waiting for me to exit the room before she begins undressing herself. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”
With wide eyes, her lips part in recognition. “You’re watching me?”
I hide my chuckle behind a smirk. “I’m joining you.”
“Oh,” she says, simply. The flush rushes back to her cheeks, drawing a smile from my lips.
I walk over to her, composed and unhurried, stopping inches from her body. “It’s just a bath, Emma. Nothing more.”
Me. You. Our naked bodies covered in warm water, caressed by soft bubbles.
She grabs the hem of her tank, reluctantly conceding, and starts to pull it over her head. I grab her hands to halt her movements. “Let me.” She draws her bottom lip inside her mouth in that sexy way I’ve grown to love, letting me know I have her permission. I lift the shirt up over her head and toss it to the floor. She shifts positions, crossing and uncrossing her arms over her chest. I need to even the playing field to make her more comfortable. I take her hands and place them at the bottom of my polo, prompting her to take her turn. Her chest heaves with nervous anticipation.
I’m right there with you, angel. I haven’t been with a woman since Heidi, and even then the atmosphere wasn’t as emotionally charged as this. She pulls the shirt off, throwing it on the tile next to hers. The air is swarming with electricity as we stand less than a foot apart, taking turns undressing one another. Her tongue snakes out to wet her lips and I have to remind myself this is just about connection, not to rush it. I need her to trust me. That doesn’t keep my dick from reacting to the round peaks of her breasts popping out of the top of her sports bra.
Her delicate hands reach forward and work the button of my jeans, then the zipper. She peers up at me, silently asking for permission before she slides them off my hips. “Whenever you’re ready,” I reply to her unspoken request. As soon as the denim hits the ground, I shuffle out of them and kick them to the side. Emma’s eyes fall to my erection and she swallows hard, running her tongue over her top lip. I want to know what it feels like to have that tongue on the tip of my cock. I want to watch her take me in her mouth while I wrap my hands in her long blonde hair. One step at a time. I trace the tip of my finger along the inside of her waistband, inciting a soft moan from her lips. I grin as I hook a thumb in each side, giving her leggings a tug then pulling them down her body. I
drop to my knees as I draw them over her feet and add them to the pile.
She’s wet. I can smell it. I want to taste it.
I peel the lacy thong from her body, lifting the fabric to my face, breathing in her scent before I put them with the rest of our clothes. Her near naked body teases me, her pussy swollen and dripping with need. I can see the evidence glistening against her soft, pink flesh.
“Oh my God,” she mutters underneath her breath.
Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart.
I stand to my feet, greeting her with a sly smile. “Almost done,” I say, as she follows my eyes to my boxer briefs. No time to be shy, love. The water’s getting cold. Her fingers grab the elastic band, lifting it over my cock then sliding the briefs down my legs. She exhales a long breath at the sight of me bare. She has no idea all the filthy things I want to do to her right now. There will be plenty of time for every single one of those things later. Right now, I just need to be close to her, body to body, skin to skin.
I slip the sports bra over her head then take her hand and guide her into the tub, climbing in behind her. She leans her back against my chest and I wrap my arms around her waist. She didn’t go into detail about what happened to finally make her leave. I can only imagine what she’s been through, what she’s seen. But she doesn’t have to run anymore. “You’re safe now, babygirl,” I assure her.
Her chest heaves as she takes in a deep breath then lets it back out. I feel her body relax in my arms. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said this, but… thank you.”
The Perfect Gentleman Page 11
