Donning my best sport bra, tank, and leggings, I stepped through the back door. Matthew was waiting in the truck as usual, perched behind the wheel. Upon my emergence, the door to the cab opened. He slid out and stretched. The first was to get the blood flowing after hours of sitting. The second was to loosen his muscles in preparation to run.
“Carter’s not here,” I pointed out. “What’re you still doing here?”
“You weren’t cleared to drive yet.”
“I can call an Uber if I need t-to go anywhere.” I planned to go places. I had a visit to make. It had already been too long. I didn’t want to put it off any longer.
“I don’t mind.”
“Look, I don’t mean t-to be rude, but I’d like t-to be alone.”
Matthew smiled stoically, still stretching his calves. “We both need to burn off some energy. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“Did—” I was going to kill him. “Did Carter put you up t-to this?”
“Jake too. They’re in agreement on one thing.”
“This is ridiculous!” I argued. “I’ve been home f-f-for weeks!” My stutter exacerbated. I winced and recoiled at the lingering brain damage caused by the accident. It struck out at me in disagreement over my claim of perfect health.
“You should stretch. Don’t want to pull a hamstring.”
Instead, I harrumphed and stalked off, power-walking up the driveway. Stones skittered in every direction, across the lawn in particular. I managed to lift my feet, fueled by the knowledge that those stones would somehow make their way through my windows when the grass was trimmed in a few days. It was a loss I couldn’t afford. Gram’s windows weren’t modern, but fashioned with antique plate glass that had distortions and irregularities that were not only expensive, but irreplaceable, unlike the cheap vases I shattered in the kitchen the night before.
Before I knew it, my feet were pounding the concrete sidewalk as if I could sweat last night’s debacle from my memory. I’ve never been so humiliated. It didn’t get much worse than having a man’s cock go soft in your mouth. The man I mooned over since I was in pigtails and seersucker dresses. Not for the first time, I felt desperate and ashamed that I’d pushed myself on him, trapped him into a relationship and a future he never wanted.
I hated him.
I loved him.
The farce had to end.
I couldn't keep playing house, pretending to be something we weren't. While a large part of me basked in his attention, my conscience knew it was wrong. We both deserved the real thing. True love. Call me greedy, but I wanted all of him. I didn’t want merely a partner. I wanted a lover. I wanted passion. I wanted to be desired for Christ’s sake. It was an essential factor of any relationship. The deciding factor. If he wasn’t attracted to me, what else did I have? Lies? Infidelity? I couldn’t bear it, not when I wanted to be the sole focus of his attention. It was all I ever wanted. I wouldn’t ruin what relationship we could salvage by trapping him further. I had to end things now while we could still remain friends.
By the time I approached the house, I'd worked up a decent sweat and burned most of the residual anger from my system. My legs felt satisfyingly rubbery, and my mind strangely at ease. I didn't know what the future would bring for the band, but as far as Carter and I were concerned, we were through. I held no animosity toward him, not anymore. He hadn't been anything but a victim of my grand delusions. I had only myself to blame. I shouldn’t have thrown myself at him that morning at the airport. It was deplorable. An act of desperation.
Now if I could only get my heart to heal at my command. As I rounded the house, despite my resolve, I was looking for Carter’s car. Better yet, Carter himself. Cutting myself off from him wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, it was going to suck royally. I had been addicted to him the better part of my life, and was going to suffer some serious withdrawal.
To my disappointment, the driveway sat empty. I was granted a temporary reprieve from self-torture. You’d think I’d grow accustomed to disappointment, but even now, years later, the hopelessness of my situation clogged my throat. I didn’t want to put an end to it, but better now than later when things went south, and we could no longer bear to look at one another, let alone raise a child with the civility of two decent human beings.
I jogged up the steps, and held the door for Matthew. “You can use the bathroom upstairs if you want t-to shower.”
Matthew nodded, jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I appreciate that. I’m going to grab a change of clothes from the truck.”
I stepped into the house and headed for the bedroom. Pulling Carter’s duffel from the closet, I began collecting his things from where they lay strew about the bed and floor. He was a slob. No way around it. From the boxer briefs draped over the footboard to the dribble of piss on the rim of the toilet. But as I picked up a t-shirt stained with baby puke, I realized he had his virtues too. While he couldn’t feed Iain himself, he insisted on rising to get him for me at night.
I don’t know. Maybe I was romanticizing it. He likely figured the sooner Iain was fed, the sooner he could get back to sleep. I tossed his shirt into the bag with the other things. In the bathroom, I evicted his toiletries from the sink, and picked through the hamper. Clean, dirty, it ceased to matter when going into the bag. He could sort it out at his place. He wasn’t mine to look after. I was sucker enough to want him in my bed, but the hell if I was going to be his maid.
I might’ve wanted to fawn over him at one time. I’d wanted to raise his children on the road. It was the whole point of my college career, so that I could home school them and know they were receiving a proper education. But that dream, too, was shattered.
In case Carter made it to my house before I showered, I sat the bag outside the back door. It was a simple enough way of getting the point across. Matthew said nothing as he came up the porch, but he eyed the bag. “I don’t want t-to discuss it,” I said, heading him off.
He raised his hands in submission. “I’m not here, remember?”
“There’re t-towels in the bathroom closet.”
“I’ll be finished and gone before you bat an eye.” He winked in attempt to lighten the conversation.
“What’s the point of you being here?” I objected. “If I f-fall and break my neck in the shower, how’re you going t-to know if you’re sitting outside?”
“After that jog, I don’t suspect that you really need medical supervision,” Matthew deflected. “I’ve got the feeling I’m here for everyone else’s peace of mind.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“But you do need a driver,” he reminded me. Ignoring my scowl, he trotted up the stairs and into the bathroom, leaving me bristling behind.
Carter’s bag was gone when I emerged from the house an hour later. Matthew was still here. Trying not to show my annoyance, I descended the porch steps and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Where to?” Matthew asked.
“Em’s place. Is the bag in the back?”
Matthew shifted the truck into drive and coasted down the driveway, taking it slow so that he didn’t disturb the gravel. “If Carter came to get it, do you think he would’ve left quietly?”
“True.” Carter was pigheaded. He’d fight to be with me, just because he had his mind set on it. The underlying emotion didn’t matter. Once his mind was set, he was unfaltering.
“You sure you don’t want to see Carter first?” Matthew asked a few minutes later. We were just pulling onto the main road. We could head east or west, still had time to decide.
“Like I want a t-tooth pulled.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Did Carter?”
“No.”
I made a noise of contempt in the back of my throat. “No surprise there.”
“You’re like a little sister to me, Mattie. If you ever want to talk, the invitations always open.”
Little sister.
I could feel my last thread of control snap. My blood pressure skyrocketed. Angry tears sprang to my eyes. “Pull over.”
“Right here?”
“PULL OVER!” My level of volume brooked no argument. Though, it could’ve been the sudden onslaught of tears. Or the spittle that flew from my mouth. Matthew immediately pulled over. I jumped from the truck, spewing a tirade of indecencies that would’ve made my mother roll in her grave, and my gram to wet herself laughing.
When my anger still didn’t wane, I jerked the doors of the truck open until I discovered Carter’s black duffel. I yanked it from the back, dragged it down to the waterfront, and tossed it into Puget’s Sound. Then, I cursed the bag and its owner to hell and back for good measure.
Not a quarter hour later, I was settled back into the passenger seat, while Matthew lugged Carter’s black bag back up to the truck, both he and it dripping wet. He dared not look at me as he climbed into the driver’s seat and shifted the truck into drive. “Em’s house it is.”
For just a brief moment, I thought Matthew had called ahead and warned them of my breakdown, but as Shane opened the door looking half unhinged, and I heard Em’s shouting, Iain’s wails, and their dogs nearly barreled me over, I knew that wasn’t the case.
“Close the door!” Em shouted, in pursuit. “Don’t let them out!”
I merely pointed my finger and used The Voice, as the girls at the daycare center called it. The Voice was conserved for rainy days when the children were losing their shit after being cooped up all day. It stopped them dead in their tracks. It provoked silence across the room.
One of the two dropped its head and opened its mouth. Something small and brown fell onto the floor. I assumed it was a stuffed toy until it moved. No, it was my dog. “Oh my God! Brutus!”
“I’m so sorry!” Em apologized, bouncing a screaming Iain in her arms. Her face was red, her hair ruffled. “I turned around for one second and…”
“Your s-stupid dogs ate my dog!”
“I’m sorry!”
“What if that was the baby, Em?” I snapped. My anger got the best of me. I was having a terribly crappy day.
“Whoa,” Shane interceded. “They wouldn’t hurt the baby, Mattie. There’s no reason to go there.”
“Really?” I retorted. “Then why’s he screaming?”
“Because he hates me!” Em rasped. “They all do!” Her chin quivering, she thrust a wailing Iain into my arms, and hastened away. I was left juggling Brutus and Iain, half dumbfounded and half mad.
“Nice, Mattie,” Shane scolded. Dragging his dogs with him, he turned to follow Em. Somehow, I ended up shedding more tears over the situation.
“I’ve got this one.” Taking Brutus from my hand, Matthew pointed to the truck. “Why don’t you take him to the car, get him settled down. I’ll get your things together here.”
I nodded, swiping my face with the wrist of my sleeve. “Thanks.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Back at the car, I did the routine diaper check. It was dry, of course, but this didn’t console Iain in any way. So I did the next best thing. I climbed into the passenger seat and gave him my breast. After a few fitful gulps and gasps, he settled down into a complacent draw.
It took only a few minutes before I started to feel like a real asshole. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my phone on me. I must’ve left it back at the house, because it wasn’t in my pocket or my purse. By the time Iain was sated enough to sleep, Matthew was returning with my bags.
“I should apologize.”
“Give her some time. She had a rough night. Apparently, Iain didn’t sleep very well. She’s a little emotional right now.”
“I just yelled at her.”
“You had a rough night too.”
“Still.”
“She’s not upset with you,” he insisted. “Really. You should go home and get some rest yourself.”
“I’m not going home yet. I have one more stop.”
“You sure you want to do that right now? Maybe you should sleep on it. Give yourself some time to think things over.”
“There’s nothing t-to think over. You can drive me there, or I can use Uber. It’s up t-to you. Either way, I’m going.”
Exhaling heavily, he shifted into reverse and checked the rearview mirror. As we pulled onto the road, I bit my lip, fighting the urge to cry, and failing miserably.
None of this was what I wanted. For me or Carter. Fuck, it had all gone so wrong. He was supposed to fall in love with me. Madly and deeply in love with me. I was an idiot. A stupid idiot. Like we were destined to be together or something. How delusional could I be?
I shouldn’t have ever let him back into my life. But I was so fucking weak. It only took a few ambiguous words, a kiss of desperation, and he’d had me eating out of his hands. I should’ve known. He’d never said he was in love with me. He hadn’t lied, but he’d omitted. He hadn’t done it to hurt me. He was simply following his sense of duty, but it’d hurt all the same. I felt humiliated that I’d actually thought I had something that other girls didn’t.
How many times did I have to put myself through this torture before I learned? This was it. I was done. I couldn’t keep deluding myself with possibilities. The evidence was concrete. Carter didn’t think of me that way. I would always be Jake’s little sister to him.
I repeated it like a mantra. Sooner or later it would sink in.
“Mattie.” At the sound of Matthew’s voice, I looked up. We were parked in Carter’s driveway. I recognized the stone retaining wall, and the stairs leading down from his side entrance. “I’ll take the bag up, ok?”
“I should do it.” He deserved to hear it from me.
“I’m pretty sure he’ll understand.”
I snorted, which wasn’t pretty at all considering the unprecedented state of my nasal passageway. “You can’t be talking about Carter.”
“Maybe not. Do you really want him to see you like this?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll take his bag to him.” Without another word, he slid out of the cab and retrieved the duffel from the cargo space.
On top of everything else, I felt like a coward. I couldn’t even watch. Leaning my forehead against the window, I swabbed at my nose. I didn’t pretty cry. It was pure ugly. My face turned red and splotchy. My nose ran. My eyes swelled like a fucking puffer fish.
Carter’s voice captured my attention. I glanced up. Matthew was holding his bag out. This thing was pissing sea water all over his landing. Carter stared at it, and then glanced down at me, his mouth inverting to a frown. He stepped forward, but Matthew pressed a hand to his chest, blocking him. They exchanged words. No shouting. What the hell was Matthew telling him? He was giving him a fucking commentary for Christ’s sake. Just give him the damn bag!
A minute later, Carter descended the stairs. I pressed the locks, securing the vehicle. He swore as he heard them engage, but tried the handle anyhow. “Angel, unlock the door.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“I don’t want t-to t-talk to you.”
“Look at me.” Gullibly, I glanced up. He flattened his palm against the window, leaned in closer to look me in the eye. “I love you.”
His words gave me pause. Briefly. “You’re just saying that because Matthew t-told you what I said.” I had to be thinking aloud again. It was becoming a habit, one I seriously needed to break.
“Matthew didn’t tell me anything except you tossed my clothes to the fishes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Open the door and I’ll prove it to you.”
“No.” I drew a breath, though wracked with sobs. “I can’t do this anymore, Carter. It hurts t-too much.”
“Angel.”
“Stop calling me that!” I snapped. It came out a little louder than intended. Iain stirred in the back seat.
“Gimme the keys, Matthew.”
“They’re in the ignition.” Matthew patted his pockets down anyhow.
“Damn it!” Carter began punching the code into the keypad beneath the handle. As soon as I heard the telltale click, I pressed the button on the armrest. Carter looked up, his expression scathing. “Open this fucking door, right now!”
“No.” I climbed into the driver’s seat as he began punching the numbers in again. This time, I only had time to punch the toggle down.
“Mattie!”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. About everything.” I shifted the car into reverse and pressed my foot against the pedal. The truck rolled backwards. Carter held fast, following me out of the driveway. I turned the wheel, shifted into drive as he continued to tug on the door handle. He was still standing in the street as I pulled away.
Well that went smoothly. Not at all like I had planned. Actually, I was hoping to get in and out without being seen. I had only planned on leaving the bag on his doorstep. He would get the message. Simple enough.
For most, the bag would've been message enough. For Carter, however, two vases, spelling it out in plain English, and the eviction of his clothing had yet to do the trick. But then that was Carter. He didn’t love me; he loved the fight. He was exhausting. I had to fight for his attention. Now I had to fight to be left in peace.
I needed some space, some time to collect myself. I knew just the place. I'd been meaning to visit since I left the hospital. Now was the perfect time. The drive was a few hours. Iain was asleep. I could make it there before he woke. Resolved, I merged onto the Ninety and headed south.
♪ ♫ ♪ ♫
The day was actually a beautiful one, I realized as I unfurled Iain’s blanket onto the grass. The sun was hiding just behind the clouds, making it comfortable enough to sit outside without risk of burning. The temperature was mild. A pleasant breeze ruffled my hair. I laid Iain on the blanket and plopped down beside him, careful to keep Brutus concealed in the diaper bag. Dogs weren’t permitted in the cemetery, but I didn’t think Haris would mind. He had liked dogs, I think.
I remembered how little I knew about him, and felt acutely ashamed. I wiped a tear from my eye, and lay in the grass beside Iain. It felt like I was always talking to dead people. I didn’t mean to be morbid, but it was the truth. “God, I wish you were still here so I could tell you how sorry I am.”
They never answered, of course. Not my parents. Nor Haris.
Only Gram.
I still questioned my sanity over that.
“I’m sure he hears you. I like to think that he’s listening.”
The hairs on my arm rose. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Brutus came to my rescue with a few barks of warning. Unfortunately, he couldn’t protect me from my own sanity. That voice sounded uncannily like Haris.
From behind the family mausoleum, Haris’s father emerged. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Oh dear God.” I pressed a hand to my chest in an effort to calm my heart. “You scared the bejesus out of me.” I was just glad it wasn’t Haris himself. I was beginning to seriously think I’d gone off the deep end.
“Nice to see you again, Matilda.” His smile was warm.
“Mattie, please. Nobody calls me Matilda.”
“Forgive me. Haris used to call you Matilda.” He slid his hands into his pant pockets, and stared down at the grass below his feet.
“Haris did it t-t-to annoy me.” He claimed that Matilda was more mature. “He knew I hated it. I guess he figured negative attention was better than no attention.”
“I see.”
“Oh geez,” I backtracked. “I didn’t mean it like that. I loved him…I just…oh God…ignore me. I’m sleep deprived and had a really bad day.”
His father chuckled, his eyes staring far off. “It’s ok. We were aware, his mother and I, of your situation. We warned him not to get involved—no slight intended. It wasn’t right for him to take advantage. You were confused…”
My face burned hotter. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Haris’s death wasn’t your fault. Christian Álvaro murdered him.”
“I know.” Though it sure felt like it. My chin quivered. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes. The surfeit of guilt I hadn’t realized I was harboring, surfaced. At a loss for words, Mr. Kovač reached out and pulled me into his arm, let me soak his Armani shirt with my grief.
Why I had thought coming here would be a good idea, I couldn’t fathom. It only dredged up more heartache. I’d wanted an escape. What I received was another round of self-torture.
“For what it’s worth, he was happy, Mattie.”
Pulling myself together, I stepped away. “Thank you, Mr. Kovač. I don’t know how things would’ve worked out, but his support meant a lot t-t-to me.”
Iain chirped at my feet, garnering my attention. I quickly scooped him up, glancing up at Haris’s father. “I’d like you to meet Iain. Iain Haris Strickland.”
The man’s eyes deepened, glossed over with tethered emotion. He was quiet for a long moment, as if trying to find a vestige of his son in Iain’s features.
“You can hold him if you want.”
“No—I haven’t held a baby in years. All thumbs.”
“You did fantastic with Haris.” Insistently, I laid Iain against his chest. His arms came up naturally, supporting him. “See? It’s like riding a bike.”
“Not quite at all.” He smiled, gazing down at Iain. “Thank you, Mattie. For honoring Haris with his name.”
“He saved our lives.”
“He looks like you and your brother.”
“It would cause his f-father great anguish t-to hear you say that.”
“Are you together?”
“No.” I shook my head, feeling myself growing inward. “We’re not.”
“It’s ok, Mattie. I…don’t think you should let Haris’s memory stand in the way of your happiness.”
“We’re not t-together,” I reiterated. “Not f-from lack of t-trying.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I met him at the hospital. He seemed genuinely concerned about you.”
“Well, he’s like f-family.” It felt like poo coming out of my mouth. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kovač. I didn’t mean t-to intrude on your t-time visiting—”
“It’s fine,” he interjected. “I came here to think. We’re supposed to decide on whether to accept the plea deal tomorrow. I thought maybe I would find some answers here.”
“The plea deal.” It wasn’t the first time that’d come up. “What exactly is this plea deal?”
“You don’t know?”
“My brother’s lawyers are handling the details. I haven't been out of the hospital f-f-for long, and with the baby…”
“You have your hands full.” He nodded in understanding.
“Are you going t-to accept?”
“My wife is against any kind of bargaining. Though, Christian Álvaro will get life with no chance of parole, even with the deal. But, I figure if any good can come of this…”
“What good?” I voiced. His son was dead. “What is he asking f-for?”
“It's not really my place to tell you. I wouldn't feel comfortable. If your brother didn't tell you, I'm sure he had a reason.” Stepping toward me, he lifted Iain from his chest and passed him back. “It was nice to see you, Mattie. I should be going. Feel free to stay a little longer.”
“I should be going t-too, actually. I have a f-few hours’ drive.”
“You didn't come alone, did you?” He peered toward my car with concern, hoping to spot someone behind the wheel, an acquaintance or at least a driver.
“I'm f-fine t-to drive,” I assured. “You don't need t-to worry.”
“Maybe, but I would think your brother would have security on you until this is resolved.”
“Christian Álvaro is in jail.”
“Mattie…”. Dropping his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s withholding information that would implicate others in the attempt on your life. Until the names of those individuals are given, there is still a threat out there.”
“Oh,” I said for the lack of a better reply. Frankly, I was lost in thought. The girls had been right after all. Carter wasn’t just acting the doting daddy. He was being overprotective for a reason.
“Does your brother know you’re here?”
“No, not exactly.”
Fuck. I was in so much trouble. Jake was going to freak.
“Why don’t I give you a ride home? You can call him on the way, let him know that you’re safe. I’m sure he’s worried.”