Fleeting Moments

  “So why do you think they picked that night?”

  “We had a police conference. Most of the officers were in meetings, and they must have figured they had a good chance of pulling it off. They were right.”

  “So you are a cop.”

  He looks at me, narrowing his eyes, still chewing. “I was. I’m not anymore, but I am . . . helping with this.”

  “Why?”

  Something painful flashes across his face. “Can’t talk about that.”

  If he’s no longer a cop, why would he be helping with this unless it somehow affected him? Does he have a wife in that cult, or a child maybe? Why would he risk so much when he didn’t have to?

  “Is that why everybody is pretending they don’t know who you are?”

  His eyes flicker away. “I can’t go into much detail, but it’s for my own safety. It can’t be known that I’m anywhere near this case.”

  “Why?” I prompt.

  “I can’t tell you that either.”

  “They would have seen you there, so if you wanted to stay so secret why were you there that night?”

  “The men attending didn’t know who I was, it was safe enough.”

  “Well then who are you hiding from?”

  “Can’t tell you.”

  I huff. “What can you tell me?”

  He leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “That it’s not safe.”

  I roll my eyes.

  His lips twitch. “You have to trust me with this, Lucy.”

  I look to him again. “I don’t know what to trust anymore.”

  “If you keep digging, people are going to figure it out and you’re putting not just yourself at risk, but me, too.”

  My face falls. “You?”

  “Yeah, me.”

  That was never my intention. Not ever. “I don’t want that. I didn’t realize . . .”

  He sighs and gets up, walking over to the bed and sitting down. “I know that, honey. You just have trust me.”

  “So you’re saying I can’t see you, at all?”

  His eyes soften. “Right now, that’s not a good idea. If you promise to stop asking around about me, then I might be able to visit.”

  Visit. Like I’m sick and in a hospital.

  I look down at my hands. “Do you still think about it?” I whisper.

  He sits on the side of the bed. “Every fucking minute of every fucking day.”

  “How do you just move on?”

  He exhales slowly. “I haven’t had much of a chance to stop and think.”

  “I’m grateful,” I say, looking up at him through my lashes. “So damned grateful I was sitting next to you.”

  He gives me a lopsided smile. “Me too, Lucy girl.”

  I smile.

  His eyes drop to my lips again. His body goes tense, and he abruptly stands. “Going to borrow the shower, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I say softly, my heart pounding.

  “All right,” he says, equally as softly.

  He disappears into the shower and I watch the door for a few long minutes before staring down at my hands. I don’t feel guilty, but I should. My husband left, and I have no shame over the fact that there is another man in my room. Of course, I’m not doing anything with him, but the fact of the matter is I’m attracted to him and there’s no denying that. I can pretend I’m not, but I am. More than I care to admit.

  That scares the hell out of me.

  Is my attraction simply a reaction to what happened? Am I risking everything, only to wake one day and realize I have nothing left? No family. No home. Nothing. My heart seems so sure of itself right now, and things between Gerard and I have been spiraling downwards since the attack, but it was so good before that. Surely feelings can’t just change so quickly.

  I do still love Gerard.

  I just don’t love him in the way I did before the violence changed our lives. Is that purely because something inside me changed? Probably. He doesn’t deserve to hurt while I try to re-discover myself again. Still, the idea of waking up one day and having all this be just a stage I went through, and to find myself without everything I wanted so badly only a month ago, frightens me.

  If I let Gerard go now, I’m letting him go. For good. No matter if I wake up one day and realize that was a mistake.

  I have to stick to my choice.

  The door opens, and my eyes flick in that direction. Heath walks out, a towel wrapped around his waist, his big body on display. My mouth drops open, and I don’t even try to attempt to close it. He’s beautiful. Scarily so. His body is big, which I already knew, but his muscles are so well defined they move when he does, as if they’re perfectly in sync, a beautiful dance. His big chest narrows down to a lean waist that disappears beneath the towel. He’s got tattoos all over him, stunning designs that obviously tell a story. I want to ask him how it ends.

  “I’m just going to grab my bag.” He nods in the direction of a bag by the door. I didn’t realize he had one.

  I flush and nod, looking down at my hands.

  He walks towards the door and I peek up at him again, and I have to stifle my gasp. One hand flies over my mouth and tears burn under my eyelids as I stare at his back. There are scars on his skin, raised, angry-looking scars that crisscross over his body. They’re not new; they’re already a silvery color. What in the hell happened to give him such ugly scars? Who would do such a thing?

  Stop overthinking it, Lucy. He was probably in an accident.

  “Don’t ask,” he growls and my eyes find his as he turns to face me. “Don’t ever ask.”

  I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  He holds my eyes for a long moment, then disappears back into the bathroom.

  What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  Worse, what has he gotten himself into?

  CHAPTER 10

  “What happened with your husband?” Heath asks, long after he’s finished showering and the awkward silence between us has faded.

  I stand from the bed and join him on the sofa, sitting an arm’s length away from him. That seems like the right thing to do. “He struggled, partially because of me, partially because of his own guilt.”

  “Wasn’t your fault,” he mutters.

  “No, but I was so desperate to find you and the more they told me that you didn’t exist, the harder it got for me. I stopped and actually wondered if maybe they were right—maybe I was losing my mind. Then something would happen, and I couldn’t believe that I was crazy so I pushed harder, trying to get them to understand. He told me I was losing it, wanted me to get help. He gave me a choice—I either got help or he was going to leave.”

  “And you let him leave.”

  My heart twists and I nod, swallowing back my tears. “I let him leave, but I’d already made the choice to end it. It just turned out we were on the same page. Not because I wanted to prove a point, but because he wasn’t behaving like the husband I knew. He just wanted it all to go away; he didn’t know how to handle it, and he just wanted me to stop hurting. He’s always been a little like that. When things are good, he’s happy, but if things go bad, he struggles.”

  “He should have had your back.”

  I look away and a tear sneaks out and rolls down my cheek. “Yeah, he should have. But he chose not to. He found it all too hard. I wasn’t exactly easy, though.”

  “You weren’t meant to be—you were the one hurting. Do you think part of his problem was because he wasn’t there when he should have been?”

  I nod, still looking away. “His job has been the most important thing in his life for a long time. When we found out I was pregnant, I thought that would change but it didn’t. His job was always going to come first, and I think for the first time in his life, he had to suffer the consequences of that.”

  “Hard lesson to learn.”

  I swallow.

  Keep it together, Lucy.

  “You lost your baby,” he says softly. “Do you think you resent him f
or that?”

  I flinch.

  That thought hasn’t crossed my mind, not even for a second, but hearing him mention it lights a fire in my chest, an angry fire that I didn’t even know was there because yes, I do resent him. He should have been there with me. If he was, I might have never been so frightened.

  The second I have that thought I feel instant guilt and shove it out. I would have lost the baby no matter what. It wasn’t his fault.

  I’m a mess.

  “Yes and no,” I whisper.

  “You okay?”

  I keep my eyes facing the window, my entire body fighting against the tears that so desperately want to burst forth. “Fine,” I croak.

  “Lucy, look at me.”

  “I can’t, Heath.”

  “Honey,” he says, his voice softer now, gentler. “Look at me.”

  I look to him, and the second my eyes fall on his face, the tears explode and run down my cheeks. He moves quickly, pulling me onto his lap, tucking my tiny body into his, wrapping his arms around me. Comfort explodes in me, and I hate that I’m relying so heavily on him to give it to me. I hate that, because when he leaves in the morning, I’m going to be left feeling empty and I don’t think I can’t handle it again.

  “You don’t have to keep being strong,” he murmurs against my hair.

  “I lost my baby,” I sob. “I wanted it so much and I lost it. I lost my husband. I lost everything.”

  “It’ll get better. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but your husband probably just needs time and—”

  “I don’t want him to come back.”

  Heath’s body tenses against mine. “You don’t mean that, Lucy.”

  “I do,” I cry, pulling away and looking into his eyes. “It scares me because I’m afraid the feeling of not wanting him is just a temporary reaction, but right here, right now, in this moment—I don’t want him back. I just . . . don’t.”

  “You’re hurting. You’ve had your life turned upside-down. Give it time. Don’t make any serious decisions until you’re sure of what you want—trust me on that.”

  “I don’t want him back,” I whisper before I can stop myself. “I don’t, because I don’t need him. I need you.”

  He closes his eyes for a brief second. “You think you need me, but, honey, you don’t. I’m just a comfort you’re relating to a time of terror. Now you’re hurting and I’m like a pain reliever. I give you comfort. I make you feel okay. It’s nothing more than that.”

  “It is more than that,” I croak. “Don’t act like you don’t feel it.”

  “Lucy,” he says, his voice holding a quiet warning. “You’re married.”

  “Not anymore,” I say desperately, hating myself for needing him so much.

  “Honey,” he murmurs.

  “Just admit it. Tell me you feel whatever this is between us, too.”

  His looks away for a second, and I reach up before thinking and take his jaw in my hand, turning his face back to mine. Then I lean closer and press my lips against his. He makes a sound deep in his chest and his hand tightens on my waist, and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me back. His mouth parts, my tongue grazes his, and heat explodes between us.

  But he pulls back.

  “I don’t feel it,” he says, placing me on the couch. “I can’t do this. You’re married, and I’m not that man. I’ve never been that man. You think you want this, Lucy. But you don’t. I have to go.”

  I sit on the couch, shame filling my chest, stretching out to every nerve ending. I can’t move. I’m horrified.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Really fucking sorry.”

  Then he’s taking his bag and leaving.

  Again.

  CHAPTER 11

  My feet drag as I walk to my front door, hearing the voices trailing out from inside. Gerard is here, and so is his sister, Heather. I don’t know if I can handle them. I’m tired, I’m confused, and after last night, I don’t know where my head is at. My hair is a mess, my clothes are daggy, and I feel like utter crap. Still, I walk into that house and face whatever they’re going to thrust at me, because that’s what I have to do.

  Mostly, I have to do the right thing.

  “He’s upstairs.”

  I flinch at the harsh sound of Heather’s voice and turn to see her standing in the kitchen, a box in front of her, pulling coffee mugs out of our cupboards. Those are mine, dammit. Her eyes pierce mine, the same shade as Gerard’s. Her hair is down, cut in a short, straight style. It rests on her shoulders, but it makes her look like a stuck-up snob. Wait—she is.

  “Great,” I mutter, turning in the direction of the stairs.

  “He deserves better, you know.”

  My body freezes, and I turn to face her. “Listen, I know you don’t like me, Heather, and believe me the feeling is mutual, but this isn’t my fault. I didn’t ask to see what I saw that day or to be involved in it. I had no choice.”

  “No, you didn’t have a choice, and it was an awful thing to happen, but you did have a choice on how you behaved after it.”

  “I lost my baby, saw something horrific, and was traumatized—how would you have me behave?” I snap.

  She crosses her arms. “We accepted all of that, but the mention of this man who we all know wasn’t there . . . you chose to push that and in doing so, push your husband away.”

  “That’s none of your business,” I growl.

  “Enough.”

  I turn and see Gerard standing at the base of the stairs, staring at me. “Heather, can you please give Lucy and I a moment?”

  Heather glares at me, then nods and informs him, “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  She disappears out the front door and I focus back on Gerard. “Hey,” I say softly.

  “Hey. Listen, can we sit and discuss all of this?” He’s acting emotionless.

  I guess that’s how he has to be. I nod.

  We both move into the living area and sit on the sofa. Neither of us says much for a while, but eventually, Gerard speaks. “How are you?”

  “As well as I can be.”

  “You don’t look well.”

  “Our marriage ended. I’m hardly doing cartwheels.”

  “You think I wanted to just walk away? Jesus, Lucy. You’re my wife, but I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s not fair on either of us.”

  “I respect that, but I was suffering,” I say, and my lip quivers. “And instead of having my back, you tried to tell me I was crazy.”

  “You were talking about a person that doesn’t exist. I couldn’t just sit back and let that go on. I don’t know what you wanted me to do?”

  “He’s real, Gerard. I don’t have to prove that to you, because I know what is and what isn’t. That’s why I’m here—because I have to tell you something.”

  He looks to me like he feels sorry for me.

  “He visited me last night at my hotel.”

  His mouth tightens.

  “And . . . I kissed him. Not just then, but a few days before, too. I’m sorry. I thought you had the right to know.”

  He’s quiet for a long time, and I feel awful. I know we’re separated, but we’re still married and I shouldn’t have done it, even if I wanted to.

  “Gerard,” I say after a few minutes.

  He’s staring straight ahead, his face blank. Then, abruptly, he stands.

  “Gerard!” I exclaim. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to be honest.”

  He spins and pins me with a glare. “You’ve completely lost it, Lucy. I can’t stand around and watch it anymore. I can’t sit here and watch you actually act like you’re having a relationship with this man.”

  I feel as if I’ve been sucker-punched in the gut. He’s not angry at the idea I kissed another man—he’s angry because he believes I’m still making it up.

  “He’s working on a project that’s dangerous and that’s why nobody will tell me where he is, but he is real, Gerard. I’m not lying.”

  “Are
you listening to yourself?” He laughs bitterly. “Honestly, Lucy.”

  “Stop it,” I plead, anger bubbling in my chest. “Stop treating me like I’m broken.”

  “You are broken. He’s not real—how many times do you have to be told that? I looked him up; I spoke to people; he doesn’t exist. I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time, but you need to get help.”

  I stare at him and realize he’s just never going to believe me. Unless I thrust Heath in his face, he’ll never know that he’s real and I can never do that because Heath has gone back into hiding. I’m only making myself look crazier, and I’m tired of trying to convince him. The fact of the matter is even if I was crazy and imagining it, he should have my back. He should be helping me.

  But we are each choosing to walk away.

  “Get your things and leave my house,” I say, my voice icy.

  He blinks at me.

  “I’ll have a lawyer draw up the divorce papers. If we have to sell the place, we can. Take what’s yours; the rest will be done through our respected attorneys. Don’t contact me. Don’t call me. I’m done.”

  “Lucy—”

  “No,” I cut him off. “Crazy or not, you’re supposed to be my husband and in this moment, you’ve just proved to me you’re not willing to support me. I deserve more than that. I was the one who suffered, not you. It shouldn’t matter if Heath is real or if he isn’t—you’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “You’re leaving me no choice,” he tries.

  “Get your things and get the hell out of our house,” I say calmly—too calmly. “I’ll be back this afternoon. I expect everything of yours, including you, to be gone.”

  Then I walk to the front door and disappear out of it before he has the chance to say another word.

  With every step I take towards my car, my heart breaks a little more. My marriage is over.

  Where the hell do I go from here?

  ~*~*~*~

  It’s been three long weeks since Heath left my hotel room and I ended my marriage for good. I haven’t spoken to Gerard since, except through lawyers. It’s a clean split, because we have no children. He said I can keep the house, so long as he can keep all his money, savings, and things. I agreed. He can do what he wants. We’re just finalizing it all and making sure everything is as it should be. Then it’ll be over.