Off Limits

chapter 28



Emily



It's Friday afternoon and I'm trying to study. My eyes skim over half a page before I realize that I’ve not absorbed a single word.

I throw my textbook aside with frustration. It's no use...I can't concentrate.

It's been this way for the past two weeks. All I can think about is Nix and how much I screwed up. My heart is broken and I don't know how to fix it. Nix is angry, and I don't know how to fix that either. I feel useless...and lonely.

I am also tired of feeling this way. I have to snap out of this funk and move on with my life. It's clear that whatever I had with Nix is no more, and there is no going back.

Unfortunately, it doesn't feel like there is any going forward either.

There's been no word from Nix. I texted him the day after our fight asking him if he wanted me to still work for him. I knew the answer to that already, but I was desperate for some contact from him...anything.

His return text was short and biting.

Just pay me when you get your trust money.

That was it. Nothing else.

I didn't have the guts to try again. It hurt too much to have this bitter freeze from him.

Danny and Fil have been great. Between the two of them, they are sporting some soggy shoulders. They've both listened to me bitch, grouse, cry, moan, and gripe to them. They've cursed Nix with me and they've defended my feelings. They both threated to cut off his balls for me, but when it boiled right down to it, they would have welcomed him back with open arms if he walked through my door, because they both knew that would make me happy.

Ryan is another matter. I haven't really talked to him yet but Danny has filled him in on everything. I think she said it would be wise for Nix to stay away from Ryan unless he wanted a broken nose. I don't think Ryan is going to be happy if he were to walk back through my door, but it really doesn't matter. It's not going to happen anyway.

Surprisingly, I even told my parents about our breakup and they were amazingly supportive. I mean, my mother wasn't threatening to cut off his balls but she did tell me that sometimes men just need time to see the error of their ways.

I hated she told me that because it kept my hopes alive far longer than they should have been.

That's it, I say to myself. I stand from the couch and stomp into the kitchen. I'm done feeling sorry for myself. It's time to put Nix Caldwell to rest and start getting back on this crazy train of life I had been riding.

I open the fridge and pull out a bottle of wine we had opened a few days ago. I don't even bother with a wine glass but pour some into a coffee cup.

Ah, the benefits of freedom.

Heading back into the living room, I take a generous sip. Maybe I'll get drunk tonight. Just as I'm almost ready to sit down again, someone knocks on the door.

Setting my wine down, I head over to the door and look through the peep hole.

And my world starts crashing as I see Nix on the other side of the door.

My heart starts into overdrive and my skin starts to itch. I suddenly realize I'm wearing his t-shirt. It's the same one I had pulled on when he kicked me out of the apartment. I walked out wearing it, not even realizing it until a few days later when I found it in my laundry bin. I didn't wash it because it smelled like him and now I'd taken to wearing it around the house when I was feeling blue.

Maybe he's here for the shirt. Surely there would be no other reason for him to be here.

I take a deep breath and open the door. As soon as my eyes meet his, all of my false bravado and promises to move on flee my mind. Instead, I take in the beautifully, damaged man that I had fallen foolishly in love with.

And the tears immediately well up in my eyes.

Hastily blinking them back, I manage a whisper, "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in so we can talk?"

Can he? Should I let him? Or should I stay hard and unyielding?

"Okay," I immediately capitulate as I step back from the door.

Nix, as always, looks beyond mouth-watering. Simple t-shirt and jeans. Nothing different from what he normally wears but he owns that look. His hair has been trimmed a bit but he's still sporting that five o'clock perpetual shadow that I love so much.

He walks in, shutting the door softly behind him.

I try to make my words strong, confident. I need to steel myself against further pain. "What do you want, Nix?"

"You."

My legs turn to jelly over that one simple word. Does he understand the power of what he's just said? The fact that I am ready to submit to that power leaves me shaken.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. "I think it's a little late. Don't you?"

"Probably. But I need to try."

I turn away from him and walk to the living room. I can hear him follow me in. I take a sip of my wine, hoping it will fortify me. It tastes like vinegar in my mouth.

"Emily," he says softly and I cannot help but look at him, immediately getting lost in his eyes. "I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am for the words I said to you. Those were unforgivable. The only thing I can do is offer you a way to understand them."

He has my attention but I have no clue what he is trying to say. "How's that?"

"I want you to come with me to Washington, D.C. I want to explain to you what happened in Afghanistan...why I freaked out when you saw the medal...why I said those horrid things to you."

"And you can't do that here?"

He shakes his head, determination hard on his face. "No. To make it count, it has to be done in front of one other person. My best friend, Paul."

Huh? He has a best friend named Paul?

I didn't know this but why am I surprised? I didn't know a lot of things about Nix.

"When did you want to go?"

"Now."

Now? Holy shit.

"I know I'm springing this on you," he continues, "but I desperately want to fix things with you and this is the only way. The sooner we can go, the sooner you can begin to fully understand me. That is...if you want to."

I don't need to think about this. I can't help it but I love Nix Caldwell. If he is willing to go out on a limb and open up his entire pain to me, I'm ready to go to the moon with him if he asks.

I'm smart enough to know that this doesn't mean we will be fixed. In fact, he's offering me nothing more than a means to understand him at this point.

None of that matters, though. Not really.

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for Nix.

"Okay, let's go."

***

Our trip to D.C. is uneventful and fairly quiet. Nix tells me he's been traveling around the country with Harley. They drove out to California and back. He said he used the time to think. He also talked to his neuropsychiatrist, Dr. Antoniak, by phone a few times. They apparently discussed me but Nix said he would tell me the details later. The only thing I knew about Paul was that he was supposedly Nix’s best friend and that they served in the Marine Corps together during his last tour there.

When we got close to Paul's house, Nix actually pulled into a hotel. He explained it would probably be late when we finished up at Paul's and that we would stay the night. He came back out with two rooms and handed me my key. I didn't say anything even though the thought of two rooms saddened me. It makes me think Nix doesn't have much faith that we can work through this.

Nix drives us a few miles down the road and we enter into a small, middle class neighborhood. He finally finds the house he is looking for and we pull in.

Turning to me, he reaches out and trails his fingers down my cheek. "I'm scared, Emily. Because what you are getting ready to hear is something that is incredibly shameful to me. I'm doing this because I want you to understand why I flipped out on you. I'm hoping it will let you possibly forgive me."

I just nod because I don't know what to say. He has me imagining the worst and I can only pray that whatever I'm about to learn about Nix is not so horrific that my memories of him will be tarnished forever. I think I may be as scared as he is right now.

We get out of his truck and Nix leads me up the front porch. With every step he takes, his shoulders become more hunched. He looks like he is marching off to his death.

After a brief knock, the door is thrown open and I see a handsome, stocky man staring out at Nix. He has very short hair, buzzed the same length all the way around. It's blond and his eyes are bright blue. He stands much shorter than Nix but you can tell he works out. His build under his t-shirt and sweatpants is solid.

"Nix Caldwell," the man says reverently. "I never thought I'd see the f*cking day you just showed up on my doorstep."

His words are soft. His eyes are sparkling with something I cannot name, although it could just be tears. Nix doesn't make a move but the guy doesn't notice. Instead, he steps towards Nix and wraps him in a big bear hug. Nix hesitates for just a second, then his arms wrap tightly around the other man.

Pulling apart, Nix steps back toward me. "Paul...this is Emily Burnham. A very good friend of mine."

My eyebrows rise. Good friend? Is that true?

I have no clue what we are to each other. If you asked me—especially with the way things ended—I'm not sure we were much more than f*ck-buddies. Emphasis on the f*ck part, not the buddy.

Paul sticks his hand out toward me. "Emily...it's good to meet you. Nix didn't tell me he had such a beautiful friend."

I blush prettily because that was about as sweet of a compliment as a man can dole out.

Paul invites us in. He tells us his fiancée, Marie is still at work and won't be home for another hour. He seems truly happy to see Nix but I don't see that reciprocated. Nix has tension vibrating off of him in waves.

I can tell that Paul will chatter on and on if Nix doesn't stop him and that's exactly what he does. "Listen, Paul. I need to talk to you about something serious."

Paul's carefree smile he had been sporting fades away. "Sure, man. What's on your mind?"

I'm sitting beside Nix on the couch, and Paul is sitting in a chair opposite us. I've turned slightly so I can see Nix’s face as he talks. He's clearly stressed. My gut churns at his obvious discomfort and I feel like I might puke just from Nix’s fear of what he is about to do.

Nix leans toward Paul, resting his elbows on his knees. He lets his hands hang loosely for a minute but then grasps them tightly together. I want to slip my hand in between his, to give him comfort, but I don't. I’m frozen in place by fear and dread.

"Paul...I need to tell you something that I should have told you a few years ago and it's tearing me up. Worst, it's turning me into someone that I don't like, so I need to get this off my chest."

Paul looks worried and he says as much, "Nix...dude...what the f*ck? You're freakin' me out here."

He's freaking me out, too, Paul.

Nix takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Okay, here goes. Paul...I need to apologize to you. The guilt over what I did is eating me up, man. And I'm hoping you will forgive me one day. But I need you to know how sorry I am."

I'm glancing back and forth between Nix and Paul. Nix looks like he's ready to break down, and Paul? Paul just looks...angry. This does not bode well.

Then Paul does the unthinkable and starts laughing. Genuine, belly deep amusement pouring out. I glance at Nix who looks astonished.

"What in the hell do you find so funny about this?" Nix sounds affronted, as he apparently should be. Nix just bared his soul and Paul is laughing at him.

Paul finally winds his chuckles down. He leans forward in his own chair and points his finger at Nix. "Let me get this straight...our squad gets stuck in the middle of a firefight. I get hit with a bullet. So do you. You drag me out to safety, save my life, and you're... you're...apologizing to me? Are you smoking crack or something?"

Paul no longer sounds amused. In fact, he sounds pissed off.

Nix stands abruptly from the couch. "That's not how it went down and you know it. I got your f*cking legs blown off." As if to prove his point, Nix stomps over to Paul and pulls up on both legs of his sweatpants. I see teal blue metal rods poking out and disappearing into his tennis shoes.

"Look at this, Emily. You want to know what you found in my drawer. This is what I got a f*cking medal for."

My eyes are wide in astonishment. I'm looking at a man with two prosthetic legs, and I had no clue. I couldn't tell. He walked...perfectly. No limp. No awkward gate.

Amazing.

Nix throws his hands up in the air. "I can't f*cking do this. I thought I could, but I can't."

He walks to the door, opens it and slams out.

I just sit there in stunned silence, wondering what to do next. Finally, Paul stands up and shakes each leg in turn to get his pants' legs to fall down. "Want a beer?"

"Sure," I respond. Because I have no clue else what to say.

"Come on in the kitchen. I'll tell you the whole story."