I’m sorry, I should have told you.”
Slamming a folder full of e-mails down on the desk in my small office in the guest house, I look up at Landry and glare at him.
“You’re damn right you should have told me!” I fire back, watching Landry’s eyes widen in shock.
I never curse in front of him. I’ve never even raised my voice in his presence, and going by the look on his face, he has no idea what is going on.
“It’s bad enough ninety percent of my communication with my mother is done via her assistants through e-mail. You knew what she was planning to do for a week and you didn’t say one word to me. I thought we were friends, Landry.”
The shock on his face is immediately replaced with hurt and I know I should feel bad and want to take the words back, but I don’t and I can’t.
“Friends? Really, Shelby? I’m pretty sure we’re more than friends,” he tells me, moving farther into the room to stand directly on the other side of the desk.
He rests his hands on top of the polished wood and leans forward, his voice getting softer.
“What is going on with you lately? You’re acting differently, you’re dressing differently, you’re speaking to me in a way I’ve never heard before, and you flinch every time I come near you.”
I reach down deep inside me to find the part of myself that should feel upset and guilty, but all I find is anger and the only part of his speech I zone in on is about how I’m dressing differently and it pisses me off.
Pushing the computer chair back, I stand up and round the desk until I’m standing right next to him. I tap the foot of my left leg against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing around the room, daring him to look down at my leg and wince. For years I’ve never worn skirts unless they went well past my knees, or I’ve done away with them altogether and chosen tailored dress slacks to hide my scars. Ever since my fight with Eli a few days ago, I’ve worn nothing but skirts. Sure, they’re not super short or indecent. They still cover most of my scar, the hems stopping a few inches above my knee so only a hint of the bottom of my scar shows, but it’s still out there, for anyone to see.
That damn fight with Eli broke apart something inside me, and now I can’t get a handle on it and pull it back inside. I can’t calm my nerves, I can’t tamp down my anger, and I don’t want to hide.
Landry’s eyes never leave my face even though I’m standing here, silently daring him to look down. Trail across my body until he notices the scar and makes his usual grimacing face of disgust. I want him to do it. I want him to give me a reason to lash out even more and I’m not even sorry for feeling this way. I try to remind myself that he’s a decent man and he’s good to me, but it’s not working. All I see when I look at him right now is a sad little puppy who does everything my mother tells him, using her popularity and my father’s past political connections to get his seat in the state senate. He doesn’t defend me, he doesn’t stick up for me, and he never disagrees with any decision she makes, including the most recent one of taking me off all the charity boards, removing me from almost all of my duties, and basically demoting me to being a receptionist answering the phones for the next few weeks.
“I don’t want to leave for this campaign tour fighting with you, Shelby. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on?” Landry asks softly, resting his hand on my shoulder, his eyes still firmly glued to my face like he has to physically force himself not to look down.
I want to tell him that I’m itching for a fight and he won’t give me one. The louder I get, the more placating his smile becomes and the softer his voice gets. Where something like this used to put me at ease and make me feel safe and cared for, now it just makes me want to grab on to handfuls of my hair and tug on it until my eyes water from the pain. I want to scream even louder, curse even harder, and stomp my foot like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. I don’t do any of this and I don’t say anything I want to say. I take a deep breath and a step back away from him, forcing his hand to drop from my shoulder.
“My mother just basically fired me and you’re honestly asking me what’s wrong?”
Landry lets out a big suffering sigh and I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes.
“She didn’t fire you. She’s giving you a little break to get your head on straight. We’ve all noticed how stressed you’ve been lately. This campaign is very important to me, you know that, Shelby. Your mother has worked hard to help me get here and she just wants to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Giving you some time off so you’ll be raring and ready to go to be back on my arm for the media when I get home in three weeks,” he informs me with a smile.
Bullshit, I want to scream right in his face. My mother’s e-mail this morning had nothing to do with making sure I was okay or looking out for my well-being. It was all about making sure I took this time to remember what’s at stake and make sure I made it loud and clear to Eli that he needs to stay far away from me. Knowing Landry would be out of town and I wouldn’t have to continue lying to him about what’s going on with me meant in her mind that I would have plenty of free time to get my life sorted and back on track.
“I still have a few hours before my flight leaves,” he informs me quietly, moving back into my personal space and pressing his hands on either side of my face. “Meredith is gone for the day and I don’t have to worry about her giving me dirty looks or attitude. We have plenty of time to test out the bed in your new room.”
I have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing at his suggestion.
God, I’m such a bitch.
He’s trying so hard to be smooth and seductive and it’s just falling flat. Especially after I woke up this morning covered in sweat, the tail end of a dream about Eli and one of the many times we had sex leaving me feeling needy and wanting to burrow myself deeper under the covers and touch myself until I came. I stand here looking up into Landry’s blue eyes and all I see are bright brown eyes staring back at me. I feel his smooth, soft hands on my face and all I can think of are rough, hard ones against my skin. Why can’t I just let go of the past and look forward to a future with this man? I hate that I can’t just open up my heart to him and give him everything he deserves.
I’ve done nothing but think about Eli since I stormed away from him in the studio. I’ve done nothing but replay that entire interaction, wondering what the hell happened. I let him hold me. I let him comfort me, and I let him have it. I let him have all of my pain and misery and he just stood there and took it…until he didn’t and he fought back. I made a mistake and I tried to fix it. I tried to push him away and I tried to make him believe I’d moved on. I tried to protect him the only way I knew how, but he wasn’t buying it and then he made up some bullshit lie about letters he wrote me and that just fired me up even more.
I stand here looking at Landry, so good and kind, and his eyes shining with love for me. When all I want to be doing is standing in the middle of my studio, fighting with Eli, I know I can’t do this anymore. I know I can’t continue to hurt Landry like this anymore.
“I think we need to take a break,” I blurt out, before I lose my nerve.
Landry laughs, but the smile on his face quickly dies when he sees I’m not joking.
“What are you talking about?” he asks with a disbelieving shake of his head, his hands falling from my face.
“I care about you. I really do, but—”
He lets out a small laugh of annoyance, cutting me off as he takes a step back from me.
“Don’t. Don’t even finish that sentence with, It’s not you, it’s me.”
Thankfully, I hear the front door open and Meredith shouts my name, saving me from saying the exact clichéd statement Landry knew I was about to speak.
Landry tries to hide his disappointment when he hears Meredith come back from shopping and interrupt us, and I try to hide my excitement that my best friend always seems to have the perfect timing.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Landry asks.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
My stomach churns, knowing I’m hurting a good man, but I have no other choice. I can’t keep doing this to him. I can’t keep stringing him along, giving him hope that someday I’m going to return all of the love he has for me. I truly believed that eventually my feelings for him would grow, but now that Eli’s back, I know that’s never going to happen.
Landry doesn’t say anything else; he just turns and walks away.
The only thing I can feel as I watch him walk through the doorway is relief. I no longer have to pretend like I’m a meek, quiet woman who always does as she’s told. I no longer have to worry about Landry’s feelings while I figure out a way to make Eli take back everything he said and change his mind. As badly as I want him to fight for me and prove to me that he really never fell in love with someone else, as much as I’m dying inside for him to touch me and argue with me, I can’t let that happen. I have to keep him safe, and pushing him away is the only thing I can do to accomplish that.
* * *
I’ve lost track of how many times this week I’ve given in to yet another sleepless night, tossed back my covers, and quietly made my way across our land to the stables. Tonight is no different. At three o’clock in the morning, I’m standing in front of Ariel’s stall, using my fingernails to scratch the white diamond shape in her fur right between her ears on her forehead. I avoided going into the studio to feel sorry for myself and came right down the main hall to my favorite horse, feeding her sugar cubes and muttering to her about how stupid I am.
Her response is a snort and the jerk of her head as she cranes her neck toward the hand I have resting on the gate by her chest, looking for more sugar.
I’ve come out here in the middle of the night, after all the stable workers have gone home, hoping to see Eli sneaking around somewhere inside. I keep telling myself I’m only doing this so I can tell him once and for all to move on with his life and leave me alone, but I know that’s not true. I’m out here for one reason and one reason only—I want to get close to the fire. I want to fight with him and yell at him and feel alive and I don’t care how badly I get burned. I want to tell him I tore apart my mother’s office earlier tonight, looking for those stupid letters he claims he sent me, wondering if maybe she intercepted them and hid them from me, and tell him I didn’t find a single one. I want to see if he’ll keep going with that lie just to make me feel bad and to try and pull me back in under his spell.
It’s stupid and it’s pathetic, because I’m already under it. He cast that net around me through the television screen the day I found out he was still alive and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it. Everything inside me is at war, screaming at me to be careful, to protect him and get him as far away from me as possible, while at the same time, craving his touch and his lips on my skin and longing to hear him tell me again that he’s going to fight for me.
A loud thud sounds from behind me and down the hall, making my head jerk back to look over my shoulder in the direction it came from. I hold my breath and wait for another noise, hoping to God one of the workers isn’t still here. In my haste to get out of my bed and head to the stables, I didn’t bother throwing on a robe or covering myself up. I’m wearing a pink ribbed tank top with no bra and an old pair of gray cotton boy shorts left over from my dancing days. I’ve never walked out of the house in something like this, something that puts the scars covering my leg on full display, but it’s the middle of the night and I figured no one would be here.
My heart beats faster when I hear the sound again, followed by a strangled cry. Turning away from Ariel, I walk toward where it came from, pushing my bare feet up onto my toes as I go so I can move as quietly as possible. Stopping outside the closed tack room door in the middle of the long hall, I try to calm my racing heart as I stand here waiting for another noise. The silence on the other side of the door lasts long enough for me to wonder if I was hearing things and I drop my hand from the wood and start to move away, when a sound even louder and more painful rips from the other side and makes me jump.
Without thinking, I quickly grab the handle and fling the door open, stopping in the doorway when I see what’s inside.
With just the light of a small, antique lamp on a table in the corner of the room, I see someone lying on the hard, cement floor, curled up in a ball, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung black cargo shorts with his naked back to me. A back that is littered with long, white scars, old burn marks, and other signs of abuse that bring tears to my eyes as soon as I see them.
“NO! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”
I gasp when I hear Eli’s tortured voice shout from underneath his arms, which he has wrapped around his head. For a minute, I think he knows I’m standing here and he’s yelling at me, but I quickly realize he must be dreaming. His body starts to jerk and he curls himself up into an even tighter ball as he continues to shout and curse at something unknown.
“FUCK YOU! HIT ME AGAIN! I’M NOT TELLING YOU ANYTHING!”
Every thought I’ve had the last few days flies from my mind as I listen to him yell, watch him tuck his body in on itself, and continue to make slight jerking movements like he’s being repeatedly hit or kicked by whoever he’s dreaming about. Every irritation I have with him, every vow I made to push him away and be pissed at him for lying about those stupid letters, flies right out of my mind, knowing his dreams aren’t fantasy. They’re real, they’re memories, and even in sleep he can’t let go of what was done to him. Seeing him like this, watching him relive something so horrific and awful that he experienced every day for five years makes me forget everything. It makes me sick to my stomach that I yelled at him, pushed him, and did anything but speak to him with a soft, caring voice and shower him with the love and kindness that he missed out on for so long.
“FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”
His voice comes out strangled and full of so much pain that it almost brings me to my knees. I move quickly across the room, dropping down on my knees behind him and bringing my hand up to his back, pressing it softly against his warm skin so I don’t startle him. I just want him to wake up. I want this nightmare to end. I can’t stand seeing and hearing him in so much pain.
“Eli, wake up,” I whisper softly, trying to keep the tears out of my voice as I rub my hand in small circles against his spine.
I barely get the words out when he suddenly twists his body, vaults up from the floor, and tackles me. My back slams into the cold, hard ground and I feel the wind get knocked out of me when his body falls on top of mine, pinning me to the floor. He quickly grabs my arms when I try to push against his chest, wrapping both of my wrists tightly in one hand and yanking them up over my head to hold them above me. I gasp and cough as I struggle against him until I’m finally able to drag in air. My eyes fly up to his face, and even though it’s covered in shadows from the dimly lit lamp over in the corner, I can see the whites of his wide open eyes. They stare at my forehead, unblinking and unseeing. He’s still asleep even though his eyes are open. He doesn’t see me, he doesn’t know it’s me he just took down like a linebacker, the sting from hitting the ground still radiating up my spine as I tug on my arms to try and get them free.
“Fuck you,” he growls under his breath, his eyes still staring at my head.
I know those words aren’t meant for me, but they still break something apart inside me, knowing he’s lost in a nightmare and he’s angry and hurting. I want to touch his face, slide my fingers through his hair, and make him look at me, but I still can’t get my arms free. I need to wake him up and get him to look at me and see me.
“Eli, wake up,” I whisper again. “It’s me, it’s okay.”
He growls again, low in his throat, as he pushes the full length of his body harder against mine, making it unable for me to even wiggle or move an inch to get out from under him.
The only part of my body I can move is my head. I lift it up and lean it forward until my lips are right by his and I speak softly against his mouth.
“Wake up, Eli. It’s me. It’s Shelby.”
He grunts in pain, the grip he has on my wrists getting tighter as he continues to hold them in place above my head.
I crane my neck and press my lips to his, holding them there for a few seconds before pulling back just enough so I can look into his eyes. They’ve moved away from my forehead and are staring right at me as he blinks and tries to focus.
“It’s me,” I whisper against his mouth, closing my eyes and praying that I can get through to him. “It’s Shelby. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me.”
I repeat myself quietly over and over, doing whatever I can to soothe him with words since I can’t do it with my hands.
He starts to loosen his hold on my wrists and I open my eyes to find him still looking at me, this time much clearer than before, but still wary.
“It’s me,” I whisper one last time, tipping my chin down to rest my forehead against his lips, my heart finally beating normally instead of racing inside my chest.
“Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath against my forehead as he finally lets go of my arms.
I quickly bring them down and press them to his cheeks as I move my head back and look up into his eyes.
“I’m sorry. Jesus Christ I’m so sorry,” he curses brokenly, his eyes rapidly moving all over my face as I rub my thumbs against his cheeks.
One of his hands glides over my shoulder and down my side, sliding under my back and pulling me against him as he continues to look at me and check to make sure I’m okay.
“I’m fine. I’m okay,” I reassure him quietly. “Are you all right?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly and shifts his body on top of mine, making me suddenly aware of how little clothing I’m wearing and how good it feels to have him on top of me now that I know he’s okay and wide awake. My legs part just enough for him to fit perfectly between my thighs as I bring my knees up, hugging them on either side of his hips and cradling him against me.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, ignoring my question about his own well-being.
I can see the worry clouding his eyes as he stares at me, his arms tightening around my body, holding me close to reassure himself that I’m okay. I shake my head as my thumb traces gently across the thin, raised scar that runs down the side of his face, wishing more than anything that my thumb were a magic eraser that could take away all of the marks those animals left behind on his skin and in his memories.
“Why were you on the floor? Did you fall off the cot?”
Even as I ask him this question, I know the answer. When I first walked into the room, the cot he was lying next to still had the folded squares of blankets and sheets with a pillow resting on top of the pile, right in the middle of it. The cot and extra bedding are kept in here for whenever we have a sick horse or one in labor and a stable hand needs to stay close by to keep an eye on things. A cot that Eli obviously never touched when he came in this room.
“I just…I don’t sleep well in a bed. I’m not used to having a mattress and blankets and I know it sounds stupid, but it’s easier to fall asleep on the hard ground,” he explains, breaking my heart in two, thinking about the conditions he lived in for five years. “I couldn’t get comfortable at my sister’s house tonight and I couldn’t sleep. I went for a drive and wound up here.”
Gone is the urge to fight with him and the need to do whatever I can to push him away. All I want to do right now is sooth his pain, any way that I can. Replace all of his bad memories with good ones, and selfishly, let him do the same for me.
“I hate what they did to you,” I murmur. “I hate that you have these memories and you can’t get rid of them. I don’t want you to hurt like this.”
His arm suddenly slides out from behind my back and I wonder if I said something wrong. I wonder if he thinks I pity him or I feel sorry for him. I never want him to think that. I never want him to think he’s anything less than a strong, amazing man who went through hell and back. Before I can get those words out, apologize for saying something stupid, I feel his palm slide across my hip and down my bare thigh. My eyes squeeze closed when I realize where his hand is going and I try to stifle a sob when I feel his palm run down the length of my left thigh.
“Don’t,” I warn him, my voice cracking with the words and my eyes stinging with tears. “Please, don’t look at it.”
His hand continues to move gently, up and down the scarred flesh, and I force myself to open my eyes even though I’d rather see anything right now than the disgusted look I know will be on his face.
I can’t stop the sob that flies out of my mouth when he pushes his body slightly away from mine and I watch him look down at his hand still moving across my thigh. There’s no disgust, there’s no wince of revulsion, there’s just Eli, staring softly down at my mangled leg like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“I don’t want you to hurt either, Shelby,” he tells me softly as I feel a tear escape from my eye and drip down to my ear. “I don’t want to talk about my shit or those stupid fucking dreams. Not right now. Right now, I just want to be here with you and forget about everything else.”
His eyes come up to meet mine while his hand continues to caress my thigh, sliding it behind my leg just enough to pull it up and hook it over his hip.
“I just want to forget,” he whispers.
I should push him away. I should get out from underneath his body, come up with something to say to him to get him to walk away, get him to be angry with me and not want anything to do with me, but I can’t. I’m completely powerless when he’s touching me like this and looking at me like this and speaking to me so softly, begging me to help him forget the memories that haunt him while at the same time wanting him to take away my own nightmares.
I should push him away…but I can’t. I won’t. I would do anything for Eli, anything he asks, and that includes breaking myself wide open and letting him see all of my scars, inside and out.