CHAPTER SIX

LYNNE

I’m not sure what I expected after shockingly reading the card from Tyson. It scared me to the point I broke down with fresh tears. I cried for more reasons than my mind could process at the time, and before this is all over, I’ll cry more.

After all these years, he remembered my favorite color, and the flowers are absolutely beautiful. I began to wonder if he committed to his memory all of our talks and dreams the way I have. Did he think about me often? Birthdays, holidays. Did he ever fall in love again? Did he buy a home in the country where there was nothing but rolling hills and green for as far as the eyes could see?

Fancy restaurants, fast cars, and mansions on a hill are an important possession to the wealthy. The rich love to brag, to outdo one another. None of those things trump finding true love. None of them come remotely close to being in the same atmosphere, and here I am with the common knowledge all along that being loved and giving it freely in return is the most important possession I will ever own; and yet I’ve done nothing to bring my one true love back to me. You’re doing it now. You went to see him. That was a start.

I allowed Maggie to hold me in the middle of my office, to tell me she had faith and the tears should be ones of happiness. No more broken hearts. Not when I can mend them.

Maggie immediately wiped my tears away, took hold of my face, and told me to leave. To go home. I left. Curled up in a ball and cried. For hours, I sank. Lower and lower I sunk into a turbulent funk. Tyson’s voice drifting the further I slipped away.

I lay there staring out into the starry sky. Not moving until the sun started to rise this morning. Work was slow. Maggie sent me home again and shoved me out the door with my flowers in my hand.

By the time I pulled into my drive, took a shower, and made myself presentable, I no longer wanted to go out in public. I wanted Tyson for myself. To be able to talk to him without interruptions. To find out as much as I could about him. So, I left, went to the grocery store, and turned back time in my head. I bought all of the things I remembered he loved to eat. Tacos, burgers, hotdogs. America’s favorite foods. I even bought a jar of cherries. Tyson would get so angry trying to tie a knot with a stem, while me, I could tie one in less than a minute. I have no idea how I learned to do it; it came naturally, I guess.

“They were finishing remodeling this place when Riddick bought his house. Always wondered how the inside looked,” Tyson admits from behind me. He’s not even touching me and yet my skin becomes alive with an awareness I’ve never felt before. God, I want him to touch me, to own me. To make me soar.

He’s so close to me that his scent invades a hidden unfamiliarity that I could drift into unknown waters. It hurts my heart. He doesn’t smell the same, sound the same, or even look the same. It saddens me that I’ve missed out on his life. I’ll spend the rest of my life paying for the one mistake that pulled us both under. How I’ve managed all these years with barely breathing I will never know. All that matters is he’s here now. With me. Alone.

I take a deep breath inhaling this new scent. Memorizing it in case things go south here. I have no idea what his intentions are. I can only go by the things he said and did. He’s a man of his word, and I have to believe he wants to get to know me again. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m afraid my life will end for good if he doesn’t.

“I believe the setup downstairs is entirely different from Riddick’s and Vivian’s.” I find my voice through the confinement of the grainy quicksand in my throat.

I speak this, because you can see their kitchens from the beach, whereas mine is in the middle of the house with the living room in the back. I love it that way. It brings me peace watching the waves, the dogs, the kids play. Kids. Boys. Two of them. No, I won’t allow my thoughts to go there. Not today.

My wobbly legs carry me the rest of the way to my home. With fingers that tremble, I stick the key in the lock, turn the doorknob, and allow us both inside.

“Jesus, Lynne. This is…damn, it’s nice.” I smile, set the vase of flowers on the white coffee table, and pull my shoulders back. I can do this. For me, for him.

“You’re the first person besides my friend Maggie to see it.” I gaze dreamily around the room I practically live in. The cream-colored furniture with lavender pillows, a deep, dark purple wall on one side with a massive stone fireplace and television resting above. The rest of the walls are a pale shade of cream with stained glass mirrors and matching candle sconces that when the sun shines, reflect a kaleidoscope of colors. It’s airy, refreshing, and the two sets of French doors with small paned glass windows in between are what sold me on the place. It gives me a complete view of the beach and ocean.

“I heard you and Maggie became friends. She’s a great lady, and this place…It’s all you. What the hell is that?” His mood shifts when his eyes train on something across the room. I follow them and immediately catch onto what he sees. He sets the bag down on the hardwood floor, takes a few long strides to the couch, and picks up the old, tattered camouflaged army blanket he received from his recruiter. I stand there mute, an idiot wondering what he’ll think. Can he feel it, that the power of the love we once shared has never left me? Tyson gave it to me. He said it could keep me warm while he was at basic training. It was one of the few things I took from my childhood home when I left there for good.

I have to lock my knees to keep me from falling when tear-filled eyes gaze up into mine. My breath hitches; it’s caught in my throat. “I… I couldn’t part with it. I took it out of the box I had it stored in the minute I left my husband.” I close my eyes as guilt slithers up my body; it coils itself tight and wraps around every part of me, crushing, constricting the air out of my lungs like a deadly snake. Damn it. I didn’t want our night to start out this way.

I don’t open my eyes. I can’t. Betrayal and disloyalty crawl across my flesh. They itch, they burn, and they sting so much that I can’t help but let the tears slip from the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t hide behind your eyes. Open them and face me.” His words feel like an anchor. They weigh me down, and I can’t. I simply can’t do this. I lose it, this waging battle. The conflict is too much. I’m suffocating inside of my own body.

“I’m so sorry, Tyson. So darn sorry. I’m dying here. I don’t know what to say. What to do or even to think. I’ve waited a lifetime to see you. To hear your voice, to touch hold, let you hold me, and for you to tell me everything is going to be alright. It’s not alright. How can you even begin to try and forgive me when I can’t find it in me to forgive myself?” The ice in my veins isn’t melting anymore. It’s stuck. Sludging. Unshifting. Unmoving. I need him in my life so bad I throb. I can’t make it on my own no matter how hard I try.

It all shifts the moment I feel the blanket around my shoulders. Tyson’s warmth around me in a sweet, embracing hug. If he only knew how many sleepless nights I would curl up in a tight little ball with the security and comfort of this blanket wrapped around me. The memories, promises I should have kept, that I would wish were true. I’ve cried myself to sleep wishing we were underneath it together. Many times.

Suddenly, a strong, solid arm winds around my waist, another circles just above the back of my knees, and I’m lifted with ease in his arms. Not a thing in my life has felt this good. This real. This true.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ve forgiven you; you need to believe that, Lynne. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” I struggle through my cries to grip hold of him tight. To try and have faith in what he’s saying. It’s the hardest thing to do when you’ve hated yourself for as long as I have. Forgiveness doesn’t come easy, yet here I sit, curled up in the arms of the man I didn’t have the strength to face. I’ve pretended to live in a world not meant for me. Every touch inspired by my own hand was his. Every swipe across my lips was his. Everything was his. It belonged to only him.

“I left you standing at the end of a church aisle. How can anyone forgive someone for that? I don’t deserve to be in your presence, Tyson.” Fear lurks in the air. My cells lock up. It freezes me solid when he doesn’t speak for the longest time. When I open my eyes, his expression is blank, focusing on his deep, deep thoughts. I wish I could read his mind, hear his opinions, or twist my mind to deem the acceptance that doubt and that awful feeling of dread don’t belong here. Life is giving me a chance to live again. I’ve lived in the shadows of my fear for so long that it’s a part of me. They’ve never disappeared.

“You need to listen to me. I’m going to say all of this one time, Lynne. Once. If you don’t let it sink in and take my word for what it’s worth, then whatever the future is supposed to hold for us may as well stop right here. I want words, baby. Words out of your pretty little mouth that you understand what I’m about to say. That you get me, because I’ve not once forgotten how much you mean to me. Not one damn day went by in all these years that I stopped caring about you.” Oh, God. My heart thuds. My eyes snap open wider to his command.

Every word he said has sunk into my bones, from how much I still mean to him, how he hasn’t forgotten, and his infatuation with my mouth. Tyson loved to talk. He loved to hear me speak. Express my thoughts, my feelings, and desires.

“There she is. The strongest woman I know. Give me the words I want to hear,” he demands. I don’t deserve the way he’s beholding me in his gaze. Loving. Tender. Wanted.

“I hear you, Tyson,” I choke through a heart-wrenching sob that squirms up from my gut. It ripples throughout me, and it hurts. His words are meant to settle me, but instead, they’re the deserving open hand that slaps across my face. They burn, sting, and cause a sick sensation to curl in my stomach. I should have found the nerve to do this so long ago. I simply wasn’t ready.

“Don’t cry. Please. I hated it when you cried. I still do. Do you have any idea how strong of a woman you are? You didn’t allow what happened to destroy you. You might think you did, but look at what you’ve done. You became a doctor. You took what life threw at you and in return, you are sacrificing to help others. I respect and admire you for that. You have more courage than anyone I have met. We have to face what happened together. In order for us to see past the pain, the hurt, you have to forgive, Lynne. As much as I want to help you, I can’t. The one thing I can do is promise you I want to put it all behind us. To start over. Every part of me craves to get to know you again. I know you got married and it’s a dick move on my part to say this right now, but fuck it. I hated him. Thought I hated you, too. It was never hatred I felt. It was jealousy, because in my heart, in my soul, and down to the depths of my despair, you belonged to me. Don’t do this to you, to us. Don’t give in to the guilt and shame anymore. I’ve dreamed long enough to hold you, to fall hard again with you. Let me take us there. Fall with me, Lynne.” Oh, sweet God.

I’m not sure when I stopped crying or breathing. His words are a metrical tune to my core. His mouth has spoken things I’ve dreamt about. His lips produced lyrics I’ve imagined to hear more times than I can count. Play. Pause. Repeat. He doesn’t have to ask me to fall with him. I fell years ago. I never allowed him to catch me. Never gave him a chance. I’m afraid to tell him. Scared it will scare him away. He admits he cares, but love? He can’t still love me the way I love him. It’s entirely impossible, or is it? I don’t know. I stare into his glossy eyes. Tyson is holding back years of tears. I can feel his heartbeat strumming, his body quivering, his chest rising and falling underneath the palm of my hand. He’s showing his courage to fight those tears for fear I will break down again.

“This, you, those words. They mean everything to me, Tyson. It’s not easy being on the other end of forgiveness. I’m still afraid of so many things.” Slowly, I inch my hand over to place it directly across his beating heart. Warmth streams below my palm. My fingers are trembling from the inside out. They twitch to feel his skin. Momentum surges and my sobs are all forgotten. My pulse quickens when he grips my hand, tangles our fingers, and lays them back across the very same spot. I believe he has the same things running through his mind that I do. The need for the simplest touch.

“Tell me your fears, and I’ll tell you mine. Let’s start there, okay?” he prods in a way that makes my stomach want to fly.

“I’m scared of everything. So many things that it fries my brain. You, me, life. Dying. I’m a cancer-free survivor, and I’m thankful for being able to breathe. But, Tyson, I may never know what it’s like for someone to look up to me and call me mom. To be able to teach my child the important things in life. To hear them talk, walk, or watch them grow. I guess what I fear most of all is not being loved. Not being able to love someone so wholeheartedly that there isn’t a thing you wouldn’t do for them.” He lifts his hand; the sweep of his fingers across my lips is a heated eruption to my heart. Gentle. Tender.

“Life isn’t fair, is it? I’ve been unstable for years. Living a long list of black lies. Wishing there was some way, someone who would walk into my life and wake me up. Tell me I’m stumbling near death for some of the things I have done. Every day before today is our past, Lynne. It can’t be undone, unchanged, or forgotten. You stormed back unexpectedly and did so without giving up. In the same way, like you, I’m scared to death to be alone. We aren’t anymore. We can fight your demons together. You’re a smart woman; you know there are other options out there to become a mom. Many of them. You just have to want it. Take it and live. Crawl out from the rock you’ve been hiding under and look at the gifts you do have. Stop blaming and start doing. I’m not going anywhere. Not until the last breath expels from my lungs. However, I won’t deny I’m still struggling with you not trusting me or us enough for me to stand by your side. I’m still mourning the loss of our possible children. That’s not something I can easily forget. But I’m willing to fight our fears together if you are.” This is one of those moments where I want to pinch myself in order to be sure I’m not dreaming. I’m not, though, am I?

Suddenly, all I see is Tyson, a life lost, love, and a cherished moment where so many painful words were said. Regardless of how much hurt I’ve caused, the meaning behind them has shocked my heart back into action. It’s cleansed my veins, opened my soul, and hit my system with a resounding need to confess everything. I want to tell him my hidden secret badly. Except I’m raw. Worn out. And I need for him and me to be a little more stable before I dump too much on him. So, I press my foot on the throttle and with everything I have in me, I continue on.

“Don’t you see that I’m the one who made you feel that way? It was me. If I had never left you the way I did, you wouldn’t have walked through life alone. You wouldn’t be mourning children that I can never have,” I choke out. I hate that he’s feeling this way. The man I once knew would have made such a wonderful father. I honestly believe he still would. His heart is incredibly full.

“Not anymore, I don’t. Not when I have you in my arms where you belong. We are being given something rare. A chance to start over. That is what I see. I see you. Open those eyes and look around. I’ll say this again. Do you know how many times I would fall asleep at night wishing for this? To be close to you, to hold you, tell you I’ve loved you. We don’t walk in another person’s shoes. Or dream the same dreams unless two people were destined to be one. We are those two people; our steps can be the same; we can slip on our shoes and run if we want to. Don’t look back at the heartache. Create something new, anything, just do it with me.” My fear may be slipping away with each tiny breath I take; then again, there’s more. One more emotion that continues to rip me apart. Always coiling me tight, always stepping over that fear to lead the pack off the line. I’m so rolled up right now in this one sensation I don’t know what to think. Guilt.

“I had the same dreams. When I found out I had cancer and lost you, I died inside, Tyson. There were days I wished I really would have. It took me two years of therapy, wandering around the streets, sitting on park benches at night to watch the stars, hoping you would see them, too. Always wondering why I allowed my family to persuade me to hurt you the way I did. I knew it was wrong, yet I still went through with it. That right there is what’s stopped me from moving forward on adoption, on moving my life past a young woman in love with a man who would have hung the moon and those stars for her. Guilt is an ugly, ugly thing. It’s a part of me that blends and stirs my life into chaos every single day. The frustration builds inside of me until I feel like I’m going to explode. I hate being weak and broken.” He wants me to flip a switch to the happy side of life when I’m unable to act as if what I did didn’t break us both. Didn’t make him feel the way he did. It’s a constant habitual tear at my heart. But I feel my walls starting to crumble. My strength is coming back to allow me to begin healing.

“Guilt shouldn’t play a role between you and me. The guilt should be on your parents. Tell me something, were they there for you?” My parents? If he only knew how I loathe them with all that is within me.

“No. Not in the way they should have been,” I say, my tone growing angry. Whenever I mull over the shit I went through alone, my hate for my family grows like the ugly weeds you yank out of the ground, roots and all, yet somehow, they magically keep returning. They are despicable people.

“Then why feel guilt? Why not anger?”

“Oh, I feel anger every day. I have battle scars all over the place. My war I fought alone with guilt, shame, and hate. I never thought I could hate someone as much as I do them.”

“You know I wouldn’t have left you, Lynne. I’m not that guy. I’ll repeat it every day for the rest of my life if I have to. I would have encouraged, not discouraged you. I would have been the strength you needed to find your own. And I would have never cheated on you because you couldn’t give me a child. Not in this lifetime or the next. Not fucking ever.” I reach up and rub the frown between his eyes. For one brief moment, I hold my finger there. Skidding it across the crease that begins to trouble his mind.

I feel his eyes on me. Deeply intense. Real. I’m in his arms.

“I know.” I can’t deny it. I’ve always known.

I can feel the fear in my chest wanting to emerge. I won’t allow it to come skidding its way to a screeching halt in this room. Life has broken me down. I’m working my way back up to being happy. There’s no room for any negative emotions here. I need to be positive.

Talking this out with him is quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve done. It’s worse than waking up on the bathroom floor covered in my own vomit. Worse than what I learned about my father. It’s challenging me in the most grueling way, and yet here I am fighting harder than anything I’ve fought for before. The one person I’ve always wanted. Him.