My mind drifts to what our life could be like together. I’d do everything in my power to make her feel safe to be with me. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if she feared my touch in any way. I’d give her everything Pop’s given Ma, except I’d probably give her a couple of kids if she wanted that. We’d get married at some point because she deserves the highest level of commitment I can give to her. I’d move her into a real house, where she could bake cookies and shit and make the fucking place a home. I’d take her on my bike as often as I could because I know how much she loved that one ride I took her on. I wouldn’t ever be enough for her, but I could spend every day of my miserable fucking life trying to be worthy of her.
I try to keep it at bay, but I can’t. There’s a darkness in my world that I’m trying to ignore. Mindy would be at home baking cookies, and I’d come home covered in blood. Our kids wouldn’t have a normal childhood with visiting their fucked-up dad in prison. I’d tell Mindy not to bring them, but she would. The woman wouldn’t listen, I already know that. She would tell me how much she loves me, even if she doesn’t mean it, because that’s just who she is. She would make sure our kids were fed and clothed and cared for, but what would I do for them? I would do what my dad did for me. I’d give them a man they know loves them, but he’d still be a sadistic killer. I’d try to make it to their baseball games or dance performances, but the cut I’d wear the times I’d be able to show up would tell their friends’ parents that we’re not the kind of family their kids should hang out with.
Money is flush now, but if the state legalizes bud, we’re pretty much fucked. Our business is built on the illegality of it, and while we’d still have a business to pay our bills with, we’d have to pay bullshit taxes and deal with regulatory crap that would severely cut into the profits. That’s best case scenario. Bud isn’t our only business, and there’s no fucking way the other shit we got our hands in will become legit. I’ve been locked up before, and I’ll be locked up again, and what the fuck would Mindy do on her own?
The pain in my chest gets so bad that it feels like my bike got dropped on my fucking ribs. I didn’t know it could hurt this bad, had no fucking clue how painful it is to realize how much you love someone, knowing you’re not good for them.
Mindy’s future is a fuck lot brighter without me in it. She could have that house and those kids and not be with a man who reminds her of when her body was torn apart and her soul was fractured. Mindy deserves peace and happiness, and I may be able to make her happy at times, but I’ll never give her peace.
And because of that, I have to let her go once she’s stable enough. I’ll be a selfish prick for just a little while longer, and I’ll guard the time I have with her as ferociously as I can, because when our time is up and she’s gone, I’ll have nothing left but the memory of the only woman I’ll ever love. And then I’ll become more of what I hate, because if I can’t have the only thing worth breathing for, then I’ll become the creature nightmares are made of.
Chapter 18
“Oh, Ian,” I moan and shove my face into the pillow beneath my head. My naked body slides against the aged, dark red sheets, my legs twisting the fabric into a tangled mess. I stretch out and arch my back, enjoying the feeling of being naked in his bed. The only thing that would make this moment better would be if Ian were here with me. A sigh escapes me at the thought. Oh, the incredible things he could do to my body if only he were here. Well, you know, here and willing.
“I’m naked and in the man’s bed,” I tell myself with exasperation. “If he won’t touch me like this, then I give the hell up.” I’m no slouch, and I know that, but Ian’s little temper tantrum today wasn’t exactly an expression of love. It was more like a desperate plea from a volatile man. He sees things in me that I don’t see in myself, things I can’t bring myself to believe—especially when he refuses to let me in. I’m not asking him to be someone different. I’ve fallen head over running shoes in love with him just as he is—scars and all. I only wish he could see what’s in my heart. Then maybe he wouldn’t push me away.
If he knew that this isn’t a phase and I’m not going to run away when things get dark and scary, then maybe he would allow himself to love me the way I so desperately need him to. No matter what he thinks, he’s it for me. He wants me to have this idealistic life that can’t exist. The darkness will always be there, in my life, because it’s a part of me now. I can’t just pretend it’s not there like he does. The darkness and pain have shaped me in an irreversible way. I can’t even imagine who I would be now without all the fucked-up little bits that brought Ian to me, and I don’t want to. I’m not sure that I really like who I am now, but it doesn’t matter.