“I TRIED FOR YEARS!” I screamed, chest burning. I couldn’t control it anymore, I couldn’t hold it back. “I tried on the nights you went to bed without touching me. I tried on the days you told me my dreams were just hobbies. I tried when your eyes judged me in a room of wives you wished I was more like. For years I tried to reach you, tried to make it work, and it was never enough for you. No matter how I changed, no matter what I did to earn your love. It came with conditions, Keith, and ones that I’d never meet. I gave and gave and gave until I reached the point where if I gave any more, I’d lose myself.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. You make it sound like I beat you. So we had issues, every couple does.”
I pressed my fingers into my temples, because it was the same argument we’d had time after time after time. I could recite it before it’d even happened—what I would say, how he would respond, how I would feel when he left. But this time I chose not to engage, because the truth of the matter was that I didn’t have to anymore.
“You should go, Keith.”
The sun had faded behind the clouds again, casting Keith in a soft gray as his nose flared.
“You are just the most selfish woman I have ever known,” he said, only this time it didn’t hurt. I’d heard it so many times from him, the words were like liquid bullets now.
“Yep, sure am.”
He scoffed, storming down the stairs and unlocking his car with a soft beep.
“You know, no one is ever going to love you!” he screamed as he ripped the car door open, seething. “You’re going to end up all alone with your stupid fucking sketches and your stupid fucking clothes and you’ll look back on this moment and regret letting me go. I was the only one who would ever put up with that shit because I loved you, and you’re just throwing me away.”
It doesn’t matter what he says. He’s just trying to hurt you. Be strong.
I calmed myself on the outside, but still it stung, to hear what could very well be the truth spew from his mouth like acid. I forced a breath, standing straighter—taller—but inside I felt small.
My lack of reaction pissed him off and I knew it, but there was no way he was baiting me into a fight. He wasn’t worth it, not anymore.
He huffed, ready to get into his car when Rev sauntered up the drive.
My heart dropped.
“Looks like you’re already working on becoming a cat lady, too. Fucking pathetic.” And before I could even register the possibility of it happening, Keith reared back, ready to kick Rev.
I screamed his name, begging, pleading, my voice shrill and desperate in my ringing ears.
Keith stopped just short of connecting and Rev skittered off at the commotion. My hands covered my mouth as Keith looked back up at me, the horror he wanted to see finally on my face, and it was just enough for him to be satisfied.
He shook his head, batting his hands at me like I wasn’t worth his time, and then he slunk back into his car and threw it in reverse, leaving a grayish-brown cloud of dust in his wake.
I just stood there, heart racing, watching the dust swirl where he’d pulled away. The clouds were heavier now, rain threatening to fall, and yet I couldn’t move from where I stood. Because as the dust settled, a figure appeared.
Anderson.
Neither of us said a word, but I flew down the stairs as he ran toward me, catching me in his arms as I wrapped mine around his neck. I kissed him without thinking, like he was the air I needed to survive, and he sighed with a mixture of torture and relief radiating off his breath.
“Are you okay?” His voice was smooth, like an IV of comfort pumping straight into my veins.
I nodded, still kissing, hands moving to the buttons in the middle of his shirt. He seemed hesitant at first, but when my tongue slid along his bottom lip he groaned, opening for me, letting me in. His hands ran the length of my ribs and he clutched me to him, mouth taking the lead now, and I fell to his dominance.
But when I unclasped a button—just one—it was if I’d snapped him back to reality. We hadn’t talked, not for a week, and he grabbed my wrists, holding me still, pressing his forehead against mine as our breaths danced between us.
“Stop,” he whispered, and my heart yielded his command, waiting for permission to beat again.
I leaned into him, fingers reaching for his shirt to pull him closer, but he pushed my wrists out and away, holding them by my hips. Our foreheads were the only other place we touched, and I pulled back to see him, and then wished I hadn’t.
“I’m trying to let you go,” he said, voice as pained as his bent face. He wouldn’t look at me, eyes nearly shut, and he let my wrists drop before stepping back. “And if you kiss me again, I’ll never be able to.”
I winced, his name a whispered cry from my lips which only made his face twist with more pain. Not another word was said, because not another word was needed. I was hurting him because I was only thinking about me—about what I wanted, what I needed—and it wasn’t fair.
So, I nodded, squeezing my eyes closed to hide my own pain, and I stayed there in the dark until the sound of his boots was lost to me. A single drop of rain hit my nose with a soft pat, and I blinked my eyes open once more.
It was just like I’d wanted. Keith was gone.
But so was Anderson.
The rain fell harder as I jogged up the stairs, letting Rev inside and grabbing my sketchbook before it had the chance to be ruined. Not that it mattered anyway, there wasn’t much inside. Still, I patted down the cover with a paper towel once I’d made it inside and then I tossed it on the counter and braced my hands beside it.
I stood there for a while, eyes between my hands, thoughts shredding me from the inside out. I thought of Keith, of my past, of my choices. I thought of Momma Von, the lessons she’d taught me, the advice she tried to give that I wasn’t sure I truly heard. I thought of Anderson, his strength and his tenderness, both of which I yearned for desperately. Everything flew in at once, circling quickly—Sarah, my mom, Adrian, Tucker, the tower, the river, Keith’s final stab, Anderson’s final plea.
It was too much, and I crawled my hands along the counter with unsteady breaths and blurred vision, stomach finally surrendering my coffee to the sink.
It was true, what I’d said to Wren that first night we’d had dinner at her place.
I liked to fix things. Things were easier to fix than people.
It was a huge reason why I had filled so much of my time since Dani passed working—on cars, cabins, hot tubs, sheds, bridges, roads, driveways, firewood—anything and everything to keep my mind off thinking about myself.
It used to work. I used to be able to turn my thoughts off the moment I walked out the door in the morning, focusing only on the tasks at hand until I crawled back into bed at night. But now? Now, no matter how hard I worked with my hands, my brain worked harder.
I couldn’t stop thinking. No matter how I tried.
I’d thought I was getting better, even if only marginally, but then I’d stumbled past Wren’s cabin at exactly the worst moment possible.