CASEY WAS WAITING FOR me. He was meeting my mom and dad.
“No, I think you’re going to stay and tell me what I did that was so bad you had to fuck another guy the whole time we were married.”
I didn’t say anything else. I simply turned on my heels for the door.
“You can’t leave without your precious papers, Blake. Your divorce papers.”
“Please, just let me go,” I begged.
“I’m not sure if I’m ready to let you leave just yet. Let’s go get those papers.”
He began to pull me up the stairs.
Casey, I need you.
“You want to go? This isn’t like me? I gave you everything. You didn’t have to work and travel like you were. You could’ve had a good life here with me. We could’ve had a family.”
Pain. My arm. My heart.
Grant never knew me, proven by the harsh fact, he was a complete stranger. How had I been so naive? Reality’s punch to my gut was brutal, rivaling the pain I was feeling.
“But, no. I wasn’t good enough, so you fucked someone else. So this is the new me, Blake. Maybe you’ll like me better this way.”
Step after step, he went backward, jerking me as he went, his force only waning when I struggled against his hold. I fought and pulled back, almost bringing us both down. He stopped, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and heaved me up toward him.
“Does he pull your hair? Is that it?”
Casey is waiting for me. What if he thinks I’ve changed my mind?
What if he leaves?
A fleeting surge of adrenaline spiked through my system. I had one more shot. I didn’t overthink it; there wasn’t time. I lunged forward, taking him off guard since he was pulling me. Head first into his thigh—which was the closest part of him I could reach—and I bit him. My teeth dug through the denim of his jeans until I felt his skin break in my mouth. Until I tasted blood. Metallic and salty.
“You fucking bitch!” he screamed.
I was free.
I heard Casey’s voice, he was with me. So close. I felt his warmth surround me.
“I want you tonight. You’ve got something I need. I don’t know what it is. I’m probably crazy. Humor me though. Be with me.”
I leaned back. I was falling. I was going to him.
“You might marry him today. But the brave fighter in here—she’s mine. She always will be. Love doesn’t give a fuck about a piece of paper. When are you going to realize that this isn’t just love? There isn’t even a word for this.”
Words from our past were new in my ears as I weightlessly fell into nothingness.
I’m dreaming of you, Lou.
Someone was talking. Their voice was muffled … like through a pillow.
Casey. I was trying to get to you. I’m trying to get to you.
Darkness.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
“WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you should probably go ahead and ask me to marry you,” I whispered in the dark to a man who—quite literally—owned my heart. Fair and square. There was a nightlight on in my bathroom down the hall, but other than that it was completely dark and quiet. When I’d woken up, from thoughts I still wouldn’t allow myself to think about—when I had the choice—I was sweaty, in a warm bed with Casey. Except, not in the way I would prefer to be.
Over the past week I’d been in a haze from the strong painkillers, and I was still sleeping at the weirdest times even though they’d all but worn off by then. However groggy, and regardless of the hour, every time I woke up, he was there ready to talk. Ready to make me laugh. Bring me something to drink. Feed me to the point of nausea.
He seemed calm, which I was thankful for in that moment. Relaxed and peaceful. He needed rest, and I felt obligated to leave him alone, so he could catch up on the sleep I knew I’d deprived him of. He had to be exhausted. He was always awake when I was.
So I lay there absorbing him and reflected. My heart rate slowed from the dream as I let my mind wander around our new reality.
I’d been home for a few days. It was Sunday—I think.
Days blended together. I measured time by what television shows were on and what he was trying to feed me. Breakfast. The Today Show. Lunch. He was watching a cooking show. Dinner. The news. If it weren’t for those minor clues, and the light from the sun and moon filtering in from outside, I’d have no clue what time it was at all.
It was dark out when he carried me to bed. My bed? Our bed? There was so much that wasn’t clear. So much that needed discussing. Defined. Lines needed to be drawn. Sad as it was, I was still nervous that it could get worse before better. Would Grant cause more trouble? Would I have to go through a trial? I wanted to sever myself from the past, not continue living in it. My mind traveled into dark corners, so I focused my thoughts on him.
The beautiful man beside me. His physical appearance and the word ‘beautiful’ were exclusive. It was everything about him. His kindness. Passion. He loved me unconditionally. Goodness oozed from him and coated everything it touched. Including me.
I needed him forever.
I’d consistently asked him, twice a day it seemed, if he’d marry me. Persistent and stubborn, he’d say, “I’m asking you, honeybee. But thank you. And I will marry you.”
That was the same thing as a yes. Right?
My heart, and everything else, belonged to him. I had already been his for such a long time. I refused to wait any longer.
He loved me. I loved him.
I was single—for all intents and purposes—and he was free.
I wasn’t going to waste another minute not letting him know I was there for the taking. If he wanted me. Every part of me belonged to every part of him. My lips were the mate to his. My arms fit around him like wrapping paper on Christmas presents. My thoughts were stained with him, the same as my heart. My eyes never failed to look for his. The view was always such a nice bonus.
“You know you want to. Just ask me,” I quietly pleaded. “I’ll say yes, and we’ll run away.” That was something of a fantasy. But who doesn’t dream about being swept away by the man they’re in love with?
With all of the stealth and speed of a geriatric sloth, I moved away from him to take a little walk around the house. Maybe there was something on television that would hold my attention. I gently slid my feet off the side of the bed, then felt his hand find mine.
“Where ya goin’?” he asked. His voice was gravelly and thick with sleep. I glanced over my shoulder. I smiled because his eyes weren’t even open. It was possible he wasn’t even awake. Bringing my leg back up on the bed, I ran my hand over his chest and felt him breathing just as softly and evenly as before.
“Casey?”
I waited, but there was nothing.
I was sucked back into him. I didn’t need a walk. I needed his touch.
My fingers journeyed to their favorite playground—his hair. I combed through it softly and as curly hairs pulled away from each other, they fluffed up. The contrast of his dark hair against the creamy white pillowcase allowed me to see the effect I was having on it. Puffy hair and all, he still looked handsome.
Through everything, he’d been exactly what I’d needed.
He didn’t speak carefully to me like I was glass. But his touch, although still holding the heat that had always been there, felt cooler. Somewhat reserved. My body was still healing, so I could understand his hesitancy to go crazy. Still, I missed the feel of him. The way my blood and muscles felt new after the rush of pleasure he gave me.