All That We Are

by Melissa Toppen

“Miles,” I object, my hands instantly going to my hips.

  “Would you rather have the beer or me?” He arches a brow.

  “You already know the answer to that.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He snags my hand and begins pulling me down the street.

  “But we could have at least finished our drinks.”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind that I rip your clothes off in front of every single person at this festival.” He throws me an evil smile over his shoulder.

  “Shut up.” I laugh.

  He stops so abruptly that I end up running into the back of him. He turns so quickly to face me that I nearly lose my balance.

  Grabbing my face in both of his hands, he dips down so were standing eye level. “If you don’t believe I’d do just that then you clearly have no fucking clue how crazy you make me,” he tells me matter of fact, causing heat to spread across my cheeks before slowly making its way through the rest of my body.

  “You’re right. We should go,” I say, suddenly feeling just as desperate for him as he seems to be for me.

  “Wise choice.” He plants a hard, close-mouthed kiss to my lips before he’s once again pulling me through the crowded festival in the direction of my apartment.

  ——

  “Do you see yourself ever having kids?”

  I snuggle deeper into my robe, pulling my feet up on my chair as Miles and I sit out on my balcony enjoying the warm night breeze.

  “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it, obviously, but it’s not something I really ever saw coming to fruition.” He scratches his beard as he looks out over the vacant street below my building. “What about you?”

  “I would have had five by now if Alan would have agreed,” I admit truthfully.

  “Really?” He turns his gaze toward me.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “A little.” He nods. “I mean, now that I think about it, I guess it doesn’t. You’re a very giving, nurturing person by nature. It makes sense that you’d want children to care for.” He pauses and shakes his head.

  “What?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything else.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking about what I just said. When you were a teenager, I thought you were such a spoiled, selfish little shit. I think maybe I misread you. Hell, I think I misread a lot of things.”

  “No, I was a shit,” I say, laughing. “Being with Alan changed me in a lot of ways. As much as I grew to resent him over the years, not everything that came out of that marriage was bad. I think we all take the path we need to take to become who we’re meant to be in the end.”

  “Yeah.” He turns his gaze up to the sky. “I guess.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  I wait until his eyes come back to me before continuing. “Do you regret joining the Army?”

  “Yes and no.” He shrugs.

  “Can you explain that answer?”

  “I don’t regret serving my country. I don’t regret the people I met or the relationships I formed. But I do regret things that happened.”

  “If you had the decision to make all over again, would you make the same one?”

  “If I knew how it would all turn out you mean?”

  I nod.

  “If I could go back, I’d do every single thing differently - except for you.”

  “Will you tell me more about what happened over there?” I ask, knowing I don’t need to explain the question. He knows what I want to know. It’s a subject I’ve broached many times but have never gotten very far into before he shuts down.

  “You know what happened.”

  “I know about the friends you lost, yes. But that’s all I know.”

  “That’s all there is to know.”

  “We both know that’s not true.”

  There may be a lot I still don’t know about Miles, but I know him well enough at this point to know when there’s something he’s purposely not telling me. I can sense it in his demeanor. In the way his entire mood shifts whenever the subject is brought up. I just don’t know why.

  He gives me a sad smile before pushing to a stand. “I’m really tired. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

  I watch him cross the balcony and slide open the door before standing and following him inside. “Miles.” He stops at the stairs leading up to the loft and turns toward me.

  “I’m sorry if I pushed. I just want to know everything about you.”

  He holds open his arms, and I immediately go into them.

  “You didn’t push.” He kisses the top of my head. “And you have a right to know anything you want to know. I just can’t go there right now. We’ve had such an amazing day. I don’t want to ruin it by digging up ghosts that have long since been buried.”

  “I understand,” I say, even though deep down I really don’t.

  I know that he went through something terrible over there and my heart breaks that he lost his brothers in arms the way he did. I can’t even imagine the guilt he carries knowing they died and he lived. But shouldn’t that be something he should share with me? Isn’t that what having a partner is for? Leaning on them and sharing that burden. How can I help him when he won’t stop shutting me out?

  Instead of voicing any of this to him, I follow him up the stairs and into bed without saying another word about it.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Miles

  He’s on top of me, screaming words I can’t understand. My hands shake. My heart thuds violently in my chest.

  I have to get out of here! It’s the only thought in my mind.

  They’re dead. All of them. My brothers. All dead. He screams louder, pounding his fists violently against my chest.

  “I didn’t do this,” I say in a fog. “I didn’t do this. You did.” Suddenly I’m on top of him, anger boiling out of every word.

  This is his fault. He did this.

  His nails dig into my wrists as my hands tighten around his throat. I’m choking him, squeezing so hard his eyes bulge as he fights to find air.

  And then I hear her voice...

  Harlow.

  My eyes snap open, and I see her. My beautiful girl pinned beneath me, my hand splayed across her throat, her green eyes wild with panic.

  I rip my hand back, and she immediately gasps for air, clenching her throat where my hand just was. I take one look at her before throwing myself out of bed. I drop to my knees, feeling like the room is closing in on me.

  I need air, and yet I feel like I can’t get any.

  “Miles.” Her voice is soft, yet hesitant.

  I can’t look up. I can’t face what I’ve done.

  “Miles,” she repeats more forcefully.

  “Fuck,” I cry out, the remnants of the nightmare still with me. The image of what I woke to even more terrifying.

  What used to plague me every single night had never happened when Harlow was in bed with me. Not until tonight.

  “Miles. Look at me.” Harlow sets her hand on my shoulder, and I instantly jerk back, stumbling to my feet. “Miles.” Before I know what I’m doing, I’m running down the stairs two at a time, feeling like if I don’t escape this apartment, I might suffocate.

  I hear Harlow’s voice behind me, but I keep moving. My shoes are barely on before I push my way out the front door and barrel down the street.

  ——

  Tell me what happened?

  Please talk to me.

  Harlow has called and text me countless times since I left her apartment in the middle of the night. I haven’t answered a single one. She even showed up at my door just after one this afternoon, but I pretended I wasn’t here and eventually she went away.

  Thank fuck it’s Sunday; otherwise I’d be screwing my entire schedule because there is no way in hell I could go into the shop today. I can’t even bring myself to get out of bed let alone think of work. My headspace is worse than it’s probably ever been and I’m not even sure how the fuck it all m
anifested. I feel like all the progress I’ve made over the last eight years went up in a pile of smoke and I’m back right where I started.

  I don’t even know how it happened. One minute I’m in the same nightmare I’ve had more times than I can count. The next the nightmare is suddenly my reality, only my hands are around the wrong person’s throat.

  I can still see the panic on her face, her wide green eyes staring up at me in absolute terror. I don’t know how I’ll ever face her again after that.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Harlow

  It’s just after seven in the evening. I’m standing outside of Miles’ apartment for the second time today, praying that he opens the door this time.

  Today has been nearly impossible to get through. I’ve been trying to reach Miles since he ran out of my apartment last night, but have been unsuccessful up to this point. I’ve called, texted, shown up at his door. All of which has gotten me nowhere.

  I’m worried about him to the point that I feel physically ill, and I know that the only thing that will make me feel better is seeing him.

  He was a wreck when he left last night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so distraught in my entire life. And while the whole ordeal was terrifying for me, my only real focus has been on Miles.

  I’m not really sure what happened. He was tossing and turning in bed next to me. I turned on the bedside lamp and gently nudged his shoulder to wake him. And the next thing I knew, he was on top of me, his hands around my throat, and I couldn’t breathe. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t there; the vacant stare on his face a clear indicator of that.

  I instinctively clawed at his arms trying to free myself, but he was solid on top of me. He was saying something but his words were jumbled, and in my panicked state, I couldn’t focus enough to put anything together. I could feel myself starting to lose consciousness the longer my airway was constricted. Spots filled my vision, and for a moment I truly believed I was going to die, but before I blacked out, Miles blinked and in an instant, his hands disappeared from my throat.

  It was probably one of the scariest moments of my life, and yet when it was all said and done, it wasn’t me I was worried about.

  Taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly, I lift my hand and lightly rap on Miles’ door. At least thirty seconds pass, and I hear nothing inside the apartment. No movement, no attempt to answer the door. Nothing.

  I adjust the infinity scarf around my neck, using it to hide the fingerprint bruises. It’s in the nineties today, and so humid the air feels thick around me. I’m sure my attire seems completely out of place, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t risk running into someone I know or worse – Miles seeing what he did to me.

  I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that any of this actually happened. One minute I felt like I was living a fairytale and now it’s like I’ve been thrown into some terrible nightmare.

  “Miles.” I knock again, a little louder this time. “Miles, I know you’re in there, and I’m not leaving until I see you,” I yell into the crack of the door like that will somehow make my words easier to hear inside the apartment.

  I lift my hand to knock again right as the door jerks open without warning. I jump backward, startled by the sudden and unexpected movement before my eyes dart upward and find Miles’ face.

  My stomach twists violently at the sight of him. His hair is standing up in every which way, and there are dark circles under both of his eyes. My gaze jumps from his shirtless torso to his fitted blue jeans that are unbuckled at the waist before finally noticing the half empty bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers.

  “Why are you here?” His voice is thick, his eyes distant. Like he’s looking through me, not at me.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” I start, unable to say more before he cuts in.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he slurs, clearly intoxicated.

  “What is going on, Miles? Why haven’t you answered my calls or my texts?”

  “Because I didn’t want to talk to you,” he bites harshly.

  “Why? What did I do?” My voice goes up an octave as panic starts to rise in my chest.

  “What did you do?” He lets his head fall back, a malicious laugh echoing from his chest. “You’re really fucking funny. You know that.” His head lulls forward, and his eyes go to the space behind me.

  “Miles, what is going on?” I soften my approach, even more, reaching out to touch his forearm.

  The instant the contact is made he rips his arm back as if I’ve just touched him with a hot branding iron.

  “Don’t!” he bites out violently.

  “Will you please talk to me? Let me come inside, and we can talk this out. About what happened last night. I’m not upset with you. I know you would never hurt me.”

  “But I did fucking hurt you!” he explodes, rearing back and punching the open door so hard I swear there’s no way he didn’t break something.

  “It wasn’t you,” I start, a clear shake in my voice.

  “But it was me, Harlow. It was me.” He pounds on his chest, angry tears filling his eyes. “I could have fucking killed you.”

  “But you didn’t.” I reach for him again.

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” he screams, stumbling backward in the doorway.

  I look from side to side, a little surprised that not a single neighbor has poked their head out to see what the commotion is all about.

  “Miles, please, just let me come in, and we can talk this out.”

  “There’s nothing to talk out. I knew better than to do this. I knew that pretending with you wouldn’t make it just all miraculously disappear.”

  “You weren’t pretending. Don’t say that.”

  “I was pretending, Harlow. I’ve been pretending for the last eight years. I’m fucked! Don’t you see that?”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know the things I’ve done. What more do I have to do to show you I’m not the guy you want me to be?”

  “But you are that guy, Miles. One night doesn’t change that. I love you.”

  “Don’t say that to me,” he grinds out.

  “Don’t say what? I love you? Well newsflash, Miles, I do! I love you. And you love me.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  I take a full step back as if his words were a physical attack.

  “Yes you do,” I croak, emotion rising in my throat. “And you are not fucked,” I insist, my own tears stinging the back of my eyes.

  “But I am,” he insists, his head shaking back and forth slowly. “I’m so fucked up.”

  I put my hands on both sides of his face and try to get him to focus on me. “Look at me,” I plead. “Miles, look at me,” I say more forcefully, surprised when he does as I ask and doesn’t immediately push me away. “Whatever this is, whatever is going on, we will figure it out.”

  He wraps his hands around my forearms and stares at me for a long moment, his eyes darting to the scarf around my neck and then back up to my face.

  “It’s over.”

  Pulling my hands away from his face, he takes a full step backward into the apartment.

  “Miles!” I cry.

  “I’m sorry, Harlow. I can’t do this anymore. I should never have done this with you. I’m sorry.”

  I stick my foot in the doorway right as he attempts to close the door in my face, then push forward with all my might. It does me no good. Even in his drunken state, he’s still way too strong for me.

  “Miles, please!” I push again, but the door doesn’t budge.

  “Go home, Harlow.” He pulls the door open and steps directly into me, forcing me backward.

  “You can’t do this to me. You can’t promise me the world and then rip it away for no reason.”

  “For no reason?” Anger flares behind his eyes and he takes another step, forcing me further out into the hallway. “In case you need remin
ding, I almost killed you last night.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I argue.

  “Yes, I did,” he growls, fingering the scarf around my neck. “And for the record, I never promised you anything.”

  I rear back, fear and sadness morphing into hurt and anger.

  “So that’s how you want to play it?” I snip, my hands shaking violently as I clench them at my sides.

  “I’m not playing anything. I told you it’s over. You’re the one who refuses to leave.”

  “You want me to leave?” I square my shoulders and take a deep breath in through my nose, trying to muster every ounce of strength I have.

  “I do,” he says, his expression hard and stoic.

  Seconds ago he was on the verge of breaking down, and now he’s so cold that I can physically feel the chill coming off of him.

  “Fine. I’ll leave. But don’t for one second think I’m ever coming back.”

  “Good. That’s what I want.”

  “Then you’ve got it.” I spin on my heel, making it all of two steps before turning back to Miles. “You wanna know what I think?” I ask, continuing before he can even think to answer. “I think you’re a coward. I think you’re so scared of letting someone in that you’d rather spend your life alone than share your burden with another person.”

  “You can think whatever you want. It doesn’t change the fact that this is over.”

  “No, it certainly doesn’t. Goodbye, Miles.” I whip back around and take off down the hallway, dipping into the stairwell moments later.

  Tears stream down my face before I reach the parking lot, but somehow I manage to make it nearly a full block before completely melting down.

  As if Mother Nature is feeling my mood, it begins to rain, the warm droplets of water mixing with my tears like the heavens are crying with me.

  I know there are dark parts of Miles’ past that I still don’t know about. Things that prompted what happened last night and into today. I know there are things that he has seen and gone through that a normal person can’t even fathom, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. It doesn’t make it okay for him to make me feel like I did something wrong or that I’m not good enough.