What If

“Are you trying to hurt me, Briar?”

“I would never intentionally hurt you, Arrow. But I have to think about myself right now. And being around you is like a child taking off towards the deep end of a pool and diving in when they can’t swim. I’m flailing here, begging for someone to jump in to save me, to lift me out of the water so I can finally breathe. But no one is there but me. I can either start kicking my legs and moving my arms, forcing myself over the surface of the water, or I can continue letting myself drown.” I looked up at the ceiling of my car as I finished my spiel. “And I’m tired of drowning, Arrow. I’m so tired of not being able to breathe.”

Without looking out my window to gauge his reaction, I pressed my foot tenderly on the gas and moved forward. In a moment of weakness, I picked up my new phone and called my ex husband.



I arrived at Killian’s new place nearly fifteen minutes later. It was a nice place: a bit bigger and newer than my apartment. I looked up at the door which belonged to Killian. And when my eyes found that bright white door, he was standing there in a pair of his slouch jeans and a plain, navy blue t-shirt.

When I walked towards him, slowly at first, I took notice of the narrowing of his eyes - not in an angry way, but more of a confused and sympathetic look. His lips were tipped down like they always were whenever I was upset. Not able to stop myself, I started running towards him, needing to have his comforting arms wrapped around me. I could already smell the freshness of his cologne, and I wasn’t even next to him yet.

Within fractions of a second I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and laying my head against his chest. His arms came up and wrapped around my shoulders, his head leaning down against the top of mine. He tightened his hold on me and pulled me into the apartment.

Once inside, he pushed me away, holding me at arms length, and looked into my eyes. I wasn’t crying; for once in my life the tears didn’t want to fall.

“You were vague on the phone. Is something wrong?” Concern creased the sides of his blue eyes.

“I need you.” I threw my arms around his neck, stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his.

Clearly shocked at first, it took Killian a moment before he reacted. He sighed against my mouth like the feeling of us together was a relief for him. His lips weren’t the last one’s mine were against, and it seemed odd. Yet I wanted him to erase the memories I recently made with Arrow. I wanted to forget the way his fingers felt across my skin, searing a path down my body. I needed to forget the way he worshipped every inch of me, leaving every piece of me with the echo of him against it. I wanted to forget the way his tongue tasted, the texture and the warmth of it, the bit of tobacco mixed with mint.

Killian’s mouth opened, accepting the intrusion of my tongue. We fell into the normalcy of how we used to kiss. Memories of our time together played in my head as I pushed my body against his, and he pulled me against his hardening bulge.

Killian was always the only person who could bring comfort to my heart. It didn’t matter what I was upset about. Sometimes it was school, or my parents, but mostly the only real time I needed him to soothe a deep-rooted ache within me was about Arrow. He never knew, of course, that I needed him more than he needed me. Without Killian I would’ve gone into an extreme and deep depression, filled with nothing but utter sorrow and deprivation.

It sounded pathetic. Even now when I’m thinking back to those horrible times, when I allowed myself to become attached to a person who never really belonged to me. Arrow was the cause of my misery, and Killian was the reason I made it through… well, through life. I hoped that he would still be able to give me that consolation, to take away the edge of the pain that always seemed to accompany Arrow.

I kissed him in a hurried passion, searching for the solace that usually came with Killian’s touch, but I couldn’t find it. It wasn’t there. I pulled at his lower lip with my teeth and started to back him up to the couch. Still, nothing. Angrily, I reached the hem of my shirt and ripped it up and over my head. Raggedly, I drew in a breath, pressing my covered breasts against the upper part of Killian’s stomach. Please, take the pain away. I can’t take this.

His hands came up, cupping my cheeks, just like Arrow always did. I felt a sudden tightness in Killian’s muscles. He became stiff, his lips pressing together, no longer kissing mine or letting me kiss him. Perplexed, I pulled away and opened my eyes. I hadn’t realized I had started crying until he wiped at the salt water raining down my cheeks with his thumbs.

His eyes hardened as I watched him debate what he wanted to say to me. His eyes examined my entire face. I don’t know what he saw there, but it obviously wasn’t something he wanted to see. He pulled away, turned his back on me, cursed under his breath, and then faced me again. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

His eyes were closed as he asked steadily, “Is this about Arrow?” When he opened his eyes at my silence, I saw the pain flashing in his azure irises. At the mention of Arrow’s name, I lost it. My hands flew to my face as I sobbed into my palms, my entire body wracking from the violence of the cries.

Always the comforter, Killian’s right arm wrapped around my knees and his left arms around my back as he hefted me up and into his arms. He started walking while holding me tightly to his chest, where it was now soaked from my eyes. A door creaked open as he pressed his foot against it, and then we were in a darkly lit room. He laid me gently onto a full-sized bed.

I blinked up at him. He frowned at me as he brushed the wet hair away from my tear-streaked face.

When he sat down next to me on the bed, I didn’t know what to expect. I certainly didn’t deserve sympathy or compassion when I came running to him about another man.

“Tell me what happened?” he said considerately, pulling me into his arms, tucking my head into the crook of his neck.

And I did. I told him everything. I told him about how I met Arrow and how I felt since that first day with him. I told him about the letters we wrote to one another and about the awful agony that had never quite left me. I told him about what happened more recently and how I felt like I was being tortured and don’t understand why. And he listened without a word, without any judgment, without telling me I was the worst person he’d ever met, how I was a horrible wife, or how he deserved better (even though he did). And that’s how I fell asleep: tucked against my ex- husbands chest, speaking about Arrow.





I woke up in a room unfamiliar, and at first I was completely lost and confused about how I ended up in an unknown bed. But then the night before was remembered, and the humiliation came quickly to my face. My cheeks flushed from the lack of dignity that I showed in dragging Killian into something that must be extremely hurtful to hear: how his wife has always had feelings for another even when I was married to him.

How does someone apologize for that? I basically told Killian he wasted a large chunk of his life with someone who didn’t deserve his time or his love. Then, to top it all off, I showed up out of nowhere and tried to use him for my own selfish reasons. When that didn’t work, threw the fact that I didn’t come over for him in his face, waving it in front of him like a large sign.