I started to look at houses near where Coraline lived. Myles even suggested I find a home that had space for Granny. She was spending more days in bed than out of it, and I would feel better if she were close to the baby and me.
Myles’s success required needs that would be hard to find in our small town. We needed enough land for him to build a recording studio—his version of a home office. Also, security would be a top priority. But he reassured me, we could hire a security firm to safeguard any home I found and loved.
I'd called a few agents and included a list of wants and needs in a home. We were lucky and could afford to pay cash for any property I wanted, and realtors love the fact that we had no limits, and it would be a fast close.
So, I wasn't shocked at all when the realtor returned my call immediately.
"Hello," I said when I answered the phone.
"Good afternoon, is this Mrs. O’Conner?"
"Who's this?" I asked, leery who was calling. I had been caught off guard by journalists before and was determined not to let that happen again.
"It's Dianne Moore from Pritchard Realty."
I took an instant liking to Dianne. She was down-to-earth and put me at ease, but more she would have treated the girl from the trailer park the same as she treated the wife of a platinum-selling artist. She spent days showing me homes that ticked off most of my wants and had not lost patience with the fact I still hadn't found the one.
"Hi, Dianne, this is Emma. What have you got for me?"
"I have a property that has come on the market, and I think it might be the one. It's a 1926 farmhouse that has been completely refurbished and sits on one hundred acres. It has fencing but not the privacy fencing you are needing. I will be glad to get you some quotes on it if you like. It has eight bedrooms, five with bathrooms en-suite. Two home offices, a movie room, formal dining, and living. A great room open to a totally updated kitchen and an inground pool with spa. On the property is a small home that requires a little updating but would be perfect for your sweet Granny. Here is the best part—it is only five miles from your mother-in-law's."
Dianne definitely did her homework and delivered.
"When can I look at it?" I asked.
"How does this afternoon sound?"
"Great, Myles is gone on a quick trip to LA. I will call Coraline and see if she can look at it with me."
An hour later, we were walking through the home with Dianne. I had Myles laughing on the cellphone at my excitement as I walked through the exact house I dreamed about. He was ready to write an offer on the spot, saying it was worth any cost if it made me happy.
"Slow your roll, I want Granny to look at it, and you will be home in two days. At a million five, I doubt it will sell overnight."
I left after scheduling another walkthrough for when Myles was back in town. As soon as Myles saw the home, money was exchanged, and contracts were signed. I went straight to work with the interior design firm I hired and shopped for new furniture. We would need a lot to fill that big empty house.
Once the final papers were signed and we took ownership, Myles called the band, Coraline, and Granny over for a tour and announced the pregnancy. Granny gave Coraline a run on who produced the happiest tears. Sawyer jokingly threatened that he wouldn't allow him within a hundred feet of Sadie if it were a boy. I was pregnant with a healthy baby, our family and friends were excited for us, and I loved my husband beyond any doubt I might have had.
Manuscript had scheduled a two-week presser, so we decided our family and the band members and their wives and kids would stay over for the night. I loved hearing the sounds of our family and friends.
My life on earth had been short, and I had lived through more heartache than some could ever survive, but I had always overcome every tragedy life had thrown my way.
“Thank you for giving me a family,” Myles whispered.
I glanced up. Myles smiled, and we were oblivious to all the noise going on around us. He leaned into me, and we kissed. “I love you, Emma... Emma O’Conner. I’m so lucky that you’re my wife, and God blessed this baby with you as a mommy.” He pressed his mouth against the top of my head.
I looked out over the chaos that was our family and friends turned family and realized I didn’t deserve that little angel, but he or she would be born into the most amazing family.
The next couple of weeks flew by in a blur. We started remodeling the cottage on the premise for Granny. We actually moved into it until the main house went through a complete remodel. Myles didn’t want to move our child into a home that was anything less than the best. A home we meant for our family.
Chapter 25
T he inside of the car felt tranquil with Myles home and driving.
"Seriously, you want your free pass to be George Michaels?" Myles asked with a burst of rolling laughter.
"Yes, what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing." He turned toward me and slid his ray bans down his nose, eyeing me up and down. "Deal, babe. See, I happen to know you aren't his type." A tightness formed in my chest as his eyes danced with a full-body giggle.
"What does that mean?"
He shrugged. "Nothing, babe. He's hot. I give you that."
"Who do you want as your free pass?" I asked, not wanting to give him a pass at all because he could probably get the passholder to agree.
"I've had enough passes. I only want you."
"I combed my fingers through his hair and caressed the back of his head. "I'm glad you are home for a few days."
Tires squealed, and I was forced against the back of the seat as Myles slammed on his breaks to avoid hitting a deer and her fawn.
A plastic bag filled with different pills and six joints rolled onto my foot. Addiction had many facets, some uglier than others. I had chosen once again to see Myles’s heart and overlooked the ugly side of his addiction. Addiction was an evil that shouldn't exist. Statistics showed that the percentage of people who will relapse after a period of recovery ranges from as little as fifty percent to as high as ninety.
We were happy. We weren't supposed to become a statistic. He reached down and snatched the bag from my view.
“Myles Joseph O’Conner, what was that?" I asked and prayed he wouldn't lie to me.
He white-knuckled the steering wheel and glared out the windshield.
"Myles," I said and heard the desperation in my voice.
"My knee hurts, damn it. I have it under control. It's no big deal."
"No, big deal? I've lost my mom to drugs. I lost too much time with you. What else am I going to lose?" My eyes met his penetrating deep-gray-eyed gaze.
"Nothing, I've got it. Under. Control." Raw energy buzzed between us, waiting to be unleashed.
"Under control." The more I screamed, the heavier his foot became.
I despised addiction. I hated the fact that its hold was so strong that even when Myles was on the verge of losing everything, he still chose to put his drugs first.
The downfall of loving an addict was that they carry pains and inner struggles around that a non-addict would never understand—pains Myles would never discuss with me. He tried shielding me from his demons; in doing so, he made his demons bigger than the bond we shared. He put drugs first, not because they made him feel good, but because he felt deathly sick without them.
I hated that addiction rendered me powerless, and I was incapable of saving the one person I loved the most in the world. I had to divorce myself from his life of turpitudes and disasters to save us both.
To love an addict was the saddest club in the world to belong to. Our love never faltered, and we must carry the silent burden with courage. I turned to stare out the window, trying to avoid looking at him. He gripped the sleeve on my sweatshirt when I heard it. The deafening sound of an air horn, the grinding of tires, the clashing of steel, the screeching of glass breaking, Myles screaming my name.
The sudden movement of my body going one way and the truck going in the opposite direction. Myles�
��s eyes locked with mine as he flew out the opened driver side window. The truck halted to a sudden stop. Red hot pain seared through my head as the taste of metallic water filled my mouth. The feeling of no sensation washed over me—numb, unable to feel anything.
I scribbled out of the opened window and started screaming Myles’s name. I found him thrown onto a stump of an old maple about fifty feet away.
"No," I screamed over and over, ignoring the blood and pain oozing out of my own body.
I struggled to turn him over. It took every ounce of strength I had.
Foam bubbled from his lips. His eyes were wide and pooled with tears—my gray-eyed demon.
I tugged on the shirt he had. "I'm so sorry. So damn sorry," I pleaded. “Please, the baby needs you.”
More blood than I thought possible for one human body to hold covered the ground—I tried forcing my breath into him and begged him not to leave me. What can drugs take from you? Everything.
I screamed with everything in me. It felt like someone had taken a pickax and split open my skull. The pain was excruciating and made me scream longer and louder. I couldn't catch my breath, and before I knew it, I felt hands pulling me off him, the sound of sirens in the distance. The time on my watch stopped at seven twenty-five pm. The time I lost everything.
***
The incessant beeping grated on the pain stabbing me in my skull. A bone-deep soreness ached in places unfamiliar to sensation. My eyes popped open as memories of the accident came rushing back.
I sat up, ripping the wires from my body. The room started spinning, and the machines began blaring. Coraline was smiling down at me, but it wasn't a happy smile; it was a tight sympathetic one.
"What happened?" I ask, rubbing over the thick padding taped to my abdomen. "The baby?" My eyes closed to combat the idea that suddenly, the one thing I wanted most in this world was to have Myles’s baby. Something in me broke. The sting in my heart was so acute. I screamed out in agony as hot tears poured down my cheeks.
"You have broken the large femur bone in your leg. They had to remove a kidney. Sweetie, the wreck caused your uterus to rupture. You lost the baby. I’m just glad the paramedics got there as fast as they did, or we might have lost you too."
I started shaking violently and could feel sweat forming on my skin and trickling down my spine. I later learned help arrived in twelve minutes. Twelve minutes too long.
Twelve long agonizing minutes was the length it took before the paramedics were unable to save the most important parts of my life.
"Myles had some broken bones and was knocked unconscious for some time, but he is going to be okay."
I hadn't even thought to ask about him, still too upset because drugs had stolen any joy I had once again. "He didn't die?"
"No, sweetie, you rest. I'll get him. They can't keep him in bed because all he wants is to see you."
The sound of a squeaky wheel woke me from whatever trance the news had put me in as someone pushed a bed beside where I lay. I jerked as a large, callus hand moved over mine. I didn't even shift to see who it was. I didn't care.
"What can I do to fix this?" Myles asked.
Knowing it was him, an unwelcomed smile crept on my lips. No one could fix me.
"Nothing, it's already done."
"Get mad, scream at me, cuss, anything. I caused this. I deserve it."
I continued looking at an odd, misshaped spot on the ceiling. "No, it's not. Clear your conscience, Rockstar. This one is all on me."
"What are you talking about?"
I finally looked at Myles. He had his other hand over his face, rubbing the tears in his eyes. "I didn't want kids. God answered my prayers."
"Em, please, baby. We will get through this."
"Okay," I replied and stared back to the spot on the ceiling. It had taken on the shape of a damaged heart. Ironic.
"Babe, it's the drugs talking. Get some sleep. I will be here when you wake up."
Yes, the drugs your drugs.
The noise that came from me was a sound I had never heard before. "I don't want you here when I wake up. Just leave."
"Look at me." He pulled at my hand.
"I can't. I can't look at you." He shifted to get closer to my bed. "Go! Nurse," I screamed. "Get him out of here. I don't want him here." I started crying.
A wail so pained it imprinted on my soul escaped from my lips.
Two nurses rushed in. One pulled his bed from the room, the other pushed a thick milky substance in my IV, giving me much-needed relief.
A wave of fatigue took me away from the pain of losing it all.
I woke up as Coraline squeezed my hand just a little too tight. Her face was red and covered with tears. In her eyes, I could see something haunted her. How I knew baffled even me, but I knew the moment a tear slithered down her cheek. My Myles was gone.
"Myles had some guy he use to buy from come and see him today. When Sawyer heard who it was, he rushed into the room, but it was too late. He died from an overdose about an hour ago."
He was gone. My beautiful Myles promised he would never leave me. But just like my mom, he let his demons win.
The odds of our paths ever crossing was less than 1%. And even though it was tragedy that pulled us together. Our paths did cross. Not a day has gone by that I haven't thanked God. I got so lucky Myles chose me to love. I loved every single moment we shared, every touch, every hug, every smile. Myles had been perfection in my eyes. We shared a fairytale, and nothing could cause me ever to love him less. I am beyond grateful that out of the billions of people out there, Myles loved me. And gave me a fairytale, but not all fairytales end happily ever after.
My heart spilled out onto the bed as I cried out, praying I had a vivid dream because of the medicine they were giving me.
"I'm so sorry, baby. He never could take much. I don't think he meant to die. He just needed a brief escape."
The pain was at such an intensity that every cell in my body ached. I was in total agony.
"He had started using again," I said.
"What?"
"When he hurt his knee again, he started back on pain pills. That was why we had the wreck. I discovered the drugs in his car."
"Baby, I'm so sorry." Coraline wrapped her hand tightly around mine. I swatted her away.
My heart and soul had shattered, and all I wanted was to be alone.
"Leave, please," I said and pushed the button that signaled for a nurse. "I want to be alone."
"Sweetie, you don't need to be alone right now."
"Why not? I'm going to be alone forever now." I didn’t want to live not when my soul screamed in agony that he was gone.
He promised he wouldn’t leave me.
He was a damn liar.
My heart ached, and tears soaked the pillow as the nurse pushed some cocktail of drugs into my IV. I have never been more thankful for sleep.
Epilogue
W hether it was my mind, the news, or the drugs, my body stayed in a chaotic state for three weeks. The funeral, the long line of well-wishes, the goodbye memorial his fans self-made at the hospital were a blur. The record label asked if I wanted to host a public service when I was able. My response was a loud and defiant no. I had already shared too much of our life with his fans and refused to share my grief. They didn't deserve to witness any more of our story. The gossip rags didn't earn the right to write about his pain—write about the evils that my Myles’s fragile heart couldn't fight.
When my incisions started to heal, I visited the plot that held his body. He promised me I would never find him the way I found my mom. He didn't lie. He made sure I would never see him ever again. The official report listed his cause of death as complications from the wreck. But I knew he chose to leave me. He stole my heart, my life, and our future. The bile that I had swallowed earlier ripped through my body as puke splattered over the fresh dirt.
The quietness haunted me. Still, in shock at his absence, I lay down and splayed my hand over the d
irt covering his body. I sniff the shirt of his that I was wearing. It still smelled like him, though it was starting to fade.
“It was a girl. We were having a little girl. I hope you are holding her and only telling her about the good in me.” I had started to throw away the envelope containing the ultrasound picture telling us the gender. I couldn’t. It was all I had to prove for a few weeks I had everything.
The impact of Myles’s death came in ripples, like a wave crashing against the shoreline. Painful sobs wrenched from my throat. Each new day was tearing me up on a different level. I had never once taken drugs, but it still didn’t keep them from destroying me.
My breathing had started accelerating like Jesse Owens in the Summer Olympics. I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to shut everything else out. Every heartache in life had seemed to be too painful to top. I knew I had finally hit the pinnacle of pain and would never recover again.
I had to have fallen asleep at some point because someone had placed a blanket over me and pulled me next to his fit body. I didn't freak out. The smell coming from his skin informed me it was Sawyer. His hot breath drifted down my neck, relaxing me. We didn't speak for the longest. I simply enjoyed the warmth coming from someone who understood.
“I’m so damn mad.”
"I know, sweetie. He wrote a letter," Sawyer said, breaking the relief his arms brought me. "I hid it because it was no one’s but your business."
Sawyer lay a folded piece of paper in front of me. It was easy to tell; it had been unfolded and folded a thousand times over.
"Why are you here?" I held his arms around me tighter, pressing my face into his arm.
His head inched toward mine, and he planted a soft kiss on the back of my head. "Coraline told me you were here."
"Why do you care?" I asked as more tears trailed down my face.
"Because he was my best friend too."
"I've lost everything."
"You still have me."
"Myles had you. I'm left with nothing."
Her First, His Last Page 16
