Page 7

Chapter 6

Flint and steel

Maddie

One year later - Maine

S ometimes, I’m my own worst enemy.

Scratch that. There’s no sometimes about it.

I’ve perfected the fine art of self-sabotage so masterfully that even though I’m finally divorced, I’m still as miserable as when a monster lorded himself over my life. When every breath was a gift he allowed me to have. When each second was beholden to him. And choices were not mine to make.

I’ve been legally free from Travis for over a year.

Yet I’m still living as if he’ll come back any day and make me pay for daring to find my own happiness. When he does, I fear I’ll open the door and usher him inside. Exactly as I’ve done countless times before. All because he’ll turn on the charm that won me over initially. He’ll remind me of the good times before everything went horribly wrong. There’ll be so many promises, each more grandiose than the last. And he’ll make me feel like he can’t survive without me, turning my caring nature against me.

It’s always the same. For decades, I’ve been stuck in a loop with him. An emotional merry-go-round in the middle of hell.

I’m the proverbial lamb leading herself to slaughter.

As that tragic thought crosses my mind, I grind my teeth and shake my head, physically and metaphorically forcing the notion away.

No . It isn’t true. I’m honestly done this time.

For good. D-O-N-E.

As many times as I’ve thought it before, it rings truer now than ever.

In actuality, I was ready for a permanent separation years ago, but Travis held something over my head. A threat I couldn’t let him follow through with. I knew he would. He doesn’t ever threaten things he’s not prepared to carry out.

So I took him back one last time. And began counting the seconds until I could break free. Praying it would happen before my life was taken.

The very same day Travis’s threat stopped holding weight, I left him. Didn’t even pack. Drove straight to the courthouse to get another restraining order, then went to the Legal Aid office for assistance filing for divorce.

The ink has finally dried on those papers. And I’m rid of him.

Although I’m perpetually looking over my shoulder, I honestly feel as though I can start to turn the page.

I want to find happiness.

Whether I deserve it is another question entirely.

Interestingly enough, when I was living through daily misery, the self-deprecation was less severe than it is now. Isn’t that strange? You’d think I’d be happier—and I am—but I’m also filled to the brim with a severe loathing of my past-self.

How could I put up with everything he did to me for so long?

Why did I give him the best years of my life?

Knowing how good it is to be free— truly free —makes the reality of how much of my life I lost all the more painful to bear. It cuts me with a dull knife. Constantly sawing into my flesh, drawing small drops of blood that pool at the bottom of my gut. Never a deluge or gush. The arteries won’t sever.

Nothing that will end my life.

Instead, I’ll languish in a mental prison that’s often more painful than the injuries he gave me.

One sweet day, I’ll figure out why I didn’t value myself enough to make the last break sooner. Better yet, why the first punch to the gut didn’t have me packing my bags.

What happened to me to enable his lies and manipulation to work as well as they did? And for so long? Is my childhood to blame, or is it something more? Am I just broken?

Until I uncover that mystery, I’ll keep berating myself for my infinite number of mistakes.

Maybe I should move. Somewhere Travis won’t follow. Get away from this town and all the memories. All the secrets it holds. The ghosts waiting for me around every corner.

Perhaps I could convince the kids to move with me. I hear Florida’s nice.

And there’d be a familiar face to greet us. A handsome one.

Alan.

He’s patiently waiting for someday . At least he was the last time we communicated about a month ago. I assumed he’d be married by now with a couple of kids. However, he’s as single now as he was when we met nearly a decade ago. Suppose he doesn’t want to give up his playboy ways. The perpetual bachelor.

Men have that luxury. No ticking biological clock for those who want a family.

I trail my sorrowful eyes around the dining room of my rental house, my gaze lingering on the Welcome Home banner and balloon bouquets on each side.

My gentle giant, Leo, is finally out of the Army. Home for good this time.

Safe and sound.

Well, he will be when his flight touches down in another half hour or so. Tonight, all my favorite people will be in one place.

A faint smile threatens to appear, but it’s quashed almost instantly with regret over not inviting Alan to the party. More of the self-sabotaging behavior I’m famous for. On the bright side, it’ll give me plenty of fodder for the internal blame game I’m always playing.

I need to find a new hobby.

Worst part is, I’m unsure why I didn’t ask Alan to come. Knowing him, he’d have flown from Florida to Maine for the celebration. He’s quite fond of my eldest son, and since Alan owns his own security firm in Clearwater, he doesn’t need anyone to approve his leave time. No deployment or upcoming mission. As he’s said many times, there’s nothing stopping him from making a quick trip up the coast.

He’s been relentless with those tempting offers.

And I keep saying no.

Not because I’m afraid of Alan or don’t want to see him.

It’s the opposite of both those things. He’s charming and funny, and I’d love his company. The only fear he instills in me is that he’ll capture my heart before I’ve even learned what it’s like to feel it beating.

Sucking in a deep breath, I put another balloon to my lips and start inflating it. Meanwhile, all these thoughts swirl through my mind like they always do when I’m alone.

Fortunately, Sammy and Drew should be here shortly to help me finish decorating and setting up for the party.

Calling them kids is a stretch. They’re in their mid-twenties.

Drew moved out a few months ago after proposing to his high school sweetheart. Sammy’s technically living here while saving up for her own place, but she’s often out with friends. I suspect she has a new boyfriend. It won’t be long before she only comes here to visit when I hit her with a guilt trip.

Loneliness is my constant companion.

I’m ripped from my morose thoughts at the sound of a key turning in the front door. My spine stiffens on reflex, and I pinch off the mostly inflated balloon.

Sammy’s sweet voice rings through the house. “Mom, where are you?”

“I’m in the dining room, darling.”

I resume inflating the balloon. I’ve got about a dozen more to go. Perhaps I can convince her to do it for me so I don’t end up needing an oxygen mask. She’s got young, healthy lungs. Like the rest of me, mine are old and worn out.

“Good news. We won’t have to do the dishes after the party. We found two drifters in the driveway,” she calls back, her voice growing nearer. “I told them they could come in exchange for dish duty. You’re welcome.”

Sammy’s a bit of a jokester. Always has been.

Male laughter reaches my ears, emanating from the foyer. It doesn’t sound like Drew’s voice. It’s deeper.

My curiosity piques, and I begin tying a knot in the latex so I can get over there to see what or who she’s talking about.

The next few seconds unfold in slow motion.

The tip of a man’s boot edges around the wall that divides the dining and living rooms. Then a jean-clad leg pokes its way into my view. The other follows gradually. Impressive quads stretch the denim.

My focus trails up his frame slowly, and a trill of nervous excitement courses through me. My mouth waters.

A black belt is cinched around a trim waist with a basic white T-shirt tucked into his jeans. Strong hands grip two plastic shopping bags full of groceries. His denim jacket hangs open, barely containing his chiseled pectoral muscles and broad shoulders.

I gulp, digging deep to find the strength to fix my attention on the face of our guest .

In my racing heart of hearts, I know who it is before I meet his eyes. I can sense him. Like there’s a shift in the energy, pulling me to him.

It’s Alan. Has to be.

Once I find the gumption to meet his mahogany eyes, a sharp gasp traps the oxygen in my throat.

Yep . It’s him.

With a voice like velvet, he says, “Hi, Maddie.”

I open my mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a squeak. On instinct, I cover my mouth to hide my dumbfounded expression. The balloon I was tying off shoots from my hands, sails around the room, and sputters warm air as it dances to its demise.

Pppfffttt.

Exactly like a fart sound effect from a cartoon. Precisely the impression I hoped I’d make the next time I finally saw him. Terrific.

The balloon finally rids itself of all remaining gas, ending the immature soundtrack. Alas, my embarrassment remains.

My cheeks warm with what I can only assume is a vibrant blush.

“Real classy, Mom.” Sammy plops two plastic shopping bags on the table. “In front of company and everything. Mortifying.”

Huh . Apparently, she’s in the room with us.

“Everybody farts. Even our mother,” Drew teases, piling more bags on the table.

Oh look . My son is here as well.

I stand frozen with my vision positively transfixed on Alan.

And only Alan.

Another male voice breaks through the haze. “Mrs. Mason, this is Big Al. He was our squad leader in the Rangers.” In my peripheral, Sawyer places the cake I asked him to pick up at the bakery onto the table. He motions an open palm toward Alan. “Come to think of it, you’ve probably already met.”

Had no flipping clue he was here either.

Unaware of my internal flurry of panic and joy, Sawyer continues. “Figured Lionheart would want him here for his party. It’ll be a nice surprise. They were close. I was only a little jealous.” He nudges Alan on the shoulder. “But I’ve had Leo all to myself for the last year, so I’m over it. Mostly.”

Ah, so Sawyer’s to blame for bringing Alan here. He’s off the banana bread list. Not permanently, since I could never be so cruel to one of my children.

However, I’m less than thrilled with him for springing this on me.

Especially since he’s aware that I know Alan. He’s the one who gave me his damn email address to begin with.

Then again, he likely doesn’t know we’ve stayed in touch all these years. No one does. I prefer it that way.

Alan’s sneaky grin widens until he’s nearly smiling. The twinkle in his eyes is devastating to a battered heart like mine. As I smile back at him, I reconsider my harsh judgment of Sawyer’s transgression. On second thought, he gets double banana bread.

Because after having nothing but emptiness filling me for eons, I finally feel something happening in the long-vacant cavern in my chest.

My heart. It beats wildly.

Not out of fear.

Not from the adrenaline rush I needed to run to safety or hide from my tormentor.

Not from the pain I felt when he inevitably caught me.

This is a whole other type of heartbeat.

It’s accompanied by a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my midsection in a mad frenzy.

Love at first sight isn’t something I’ve ever believed in. It’s a foolish notion. One for children. Love at second sight? Nah . That’s almost as silly.

At third sight, though?

Perhaps.

The dining table separates us, and I’ve never been so grateful for a partition. The urge to fling myself against him is better tempered from across the room.

Eventually, I find my words. “Hello, Alan. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

Have truer words ever been spoken?

Sawyer eases around the table, approaching me with wide open arms. “Sorry to spring an extra guest on you. I only found out he could make it this morning. Just picked him up from the airport.” Sawyer brings me in for a hug, quietly adding, “I wouldn’t call him that, Mrs. M. He goes by Big Al. I saw him kill a man for something far less egregious.”

I chuckle into his chest, then reach up to pat his cheek. I’m so relieved he’s here safely too. “The more the merrier.”

Sawyer’s Army contract expired a few weeks before Leo’s. He’s been staying here, waiting for Leo to arrive. They plan to get an apartment together until they figure out where life will take them next.

Sawyer backs away, then disappears to help Sammy and Drew unload the car.

And I’m alone with the man I’ve longed to touch for years.

But I can’t do that.

I’m not strong enough yet.

The draw to him is so powerful, and I know I’ll lose myself to him if I go there. And I’m only just now figuring out who I am. Learning to live again.

Like a lightning bolt, realization strikes me with brilliant clarity— that’s why I didn’t invite him.

Without Travis holding me back, even mentally, there’d be nothing to stop me from tumbling headfirst into Alan’s orbit.

I sweep my gaze around the room. Desperately, I search for something to distract from the magnetic pull toward Alan.

With a painful gradualness, he inches forward, claiming the space Sawyer vacated. “I hope you aren’t mad that I showed up without telling you.”

“I’m not mad,” I confess, succumbing to the pull and slinking toward him.

He takes another step. “Any chance you’re happy to see me?”

Despite being tempted to scream hell yes , I play it off. “I suppose I am. Just a little.”

“How much is that?”

We match each other step for step. Slow and steady.

I raise my hand, leaving an inch of space between my thumb and pointer finger. “A tiny, itsy-bitsy speck of happiness.”

He’s so close I can smell him. My tongue twitches, and my mouth waters. Another part of me—one substantially lower—is also suddenly damp.

His cheek quivers as he fights off a smile. “Liar.”

“I’d never lie to you, Alan.” I gulp around a giant lump in my throat. “Honest. I barely noticed you when you got here.”

His boots draw to a stop a foot away from me. I force myself to do the same.

“There it is.” Exhaling pointedly, he slices his head in a slow arc, biting down on his lower lip. “I’ve waited almost a decade to see it. Totally worth it.”

All those butterflies in my belly take flight in a rush, threatening to carry me into the clouds with them.

I lose myself momentarily in his fathomless eyes. “There what is?”

“The blush.” He draws the backs of his knuckles along my warming cheek. “Better than I imagined.”

Gasping for breath, I close my eyes, allowing myself a moment to relish his touch. When I open them again, I tilt my mouth upward, operating on nothing but instinct.

I’ve never wanted to kiss a man the way I want to kiss him.

And that’s terrifying.

He’s solid steel, and I’m a mere piece of jagged flint. If we come together, the sparks will trigger a blaze that’ll surely engulf me.

Before he can close the last bit of distance, I pull away. Retreating quickly, I lower my eyes and rid myself of the spell he put on me.

“Let me get you something to drink, Big Al,” I intone flatly, using his nickname as a barrier. “You must be thirsty from your trip.”

And I disappear into the kitchen, leaving him behind me. Where he needs to stay.

I cannot let this happen. Let him happen.

If I do, we’ll both burn. Nothing will be left but soot and ash.