At Any Moment (Gaming The System Book 3) (33 page)

Her eyes shot to mine and I saw the fear there. She knew and she was trying to avoid the inevitable.

She shook where she sat. “Please don’t say it…” she murmured.

I said it anyway—could barely get it out, but I said it. “We need to be apart for a while.”

She inhaled and the noise that came from the back of her throat sounded like a sob. She sat back as if I’d slapped her. She took in another long breath, as if it might be her last and shook her head. Her fist closed on the tabletop and her features flushed.

“You don’t get to do this, Adam. You don’t get to give up.”

“I’m not giving up—”

“Bullshit!” she said, standing up so fast the chair behind her scraped across the floor. “This is bullshit—” Her fist pounded on the table. “After what I did for you—” Her voice cut off again in a strangled sob.

I sat, fighting the emotion rising up, clenching my own fist at my side, willing myself to calm down when I wanted to stand up and start shouting, too.

“Sit down,” I said quietly.

She folded her arms across her chest and didn’t move. Our gazes met and the betrayal I saw there—it sucked all of the fight right out of me. I pulled my eyes away, leaned forward, put my head in my hand.

“Did you just hear yourself?” I said, my own voice shaking with emotion. “After what you did—you think you did it for me, for your mom, for your friends. Because somewhere inside of you, you can’t let yourself believe are worth putting yourself first for your own sake.”

Emilia turned for a moment, her back to me, then reached out for the chair, and instead of pulling it back to the table so she could sit down, she pushed it over. It clattered across the stone floor and she had her face in her hands.

“This fucking sucks!” she said, and then, with a kick that might have done more damage to her than the chair had she connected with more than a glancing blow, she lashed out again. “So now…I get to live—hooray!” She threw her arms up in a mock cheer but her eyes and cheeks were drenched with tears. “But I don’t have you. And I don’t have a baby.”

“Emilia—”

“No, you don’t understand.”

I swallowed. “You’re right. I don’t.”

Our eyes locked and the minutes stretched out into what felt like an eternity when I couldn’t breathe. “You need help. I can’t help you. And you are incapable of asking for help. Therefore, this situation is impossible.”

“What about
you
?” she hissed. “Is everything so perfect in there?” She pointed at my head.

“No, it’s pretty fucked up in here, too.”

Then she really started to sob, so much that she couldn’t even stand up straight. She doubled over as if in physical agony and seemed to be gasping for breath. I was worried she was going to lose her balance and fall over.

I shot out of my chair and went to her, pulling her into my arms. “Breathe,” I said.

But she was gasping so quickly that I thought she might pass out, her face buried in her closed fists. On instinct, I tightened my hold around her and miraculously she almost immediately calmed down. Her breaths came at a more measured pace and her sobs slowed until, minutes later, there was just congested breathing punctuated with a quiet whimper. My shirt was now drenched with her tears.

Finally she spoke, her face pressed against my shoulder. “I can’t believe that it ends like this. Is that life’s way of playing a sick, cruel joke?”

“It’s not the end, Mia,” I said.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just…time…time we need to take to get our shit together.”

“Why can’t we do that together?”

“Because we’re both pretty messed up in our heads right now. I think we have to work on ourselves first.”

Another period of silence and then she stiffened in my arms, gently pulled away. I let my arms fall slack and she took a step back. Yanking off her bandana, she mopped her face with it, avoiding my eyes.

She cleared her throat and when she spoke, her voice was calm. “How long?”

I took a deep breath. “I think you should go home to Anza. Spend some time with your mom before her wedding…maybe go talk to your old therapist.”

“And you’ll stay here and work? How will that be working on things?”

“I haven’t thought all that through yet, but I have some ideas.”

I met her gaze and wished I hadn’t. Her eyes were stricken, haunted. I wanted to abandon this plan. I was hurting her. Too much.

“And then what?” she asked.

“There’s the wedding in June. We’ll see each other then.”

“That’s two months from now,” she rasped. “You honestly think that the best way for us to communicate with each other about our issues is to…not see each other?”

“Emilia, we’ve been put through a lot of shit in a short period of time. We need to try to heal from it.”

She shook her head. “I hope to God you know what you are doing, Adam, because I think this is a really bad idea.” Then she pressed her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes as if to will the tears to stop.

Mine were minutes away from starting. But I had to show her the brave face—what I definitely
wasn’t
feeling—that I was confident this was a good idea.

I cleared my throat. “I think it will be good…for both of us. I couldn’t let you go, before…when you wanted space. I kept trying to force the issue and I made things worse with us. I think I’ve learned now…”

She sucked in a painful breath but didn’t speak until she finally stuffed her bandana in her pocket and straightened. “I’ll go pack, then. I need to get my car back from Kat.”

“I’d rather you didn’t drive there today…in this condition.”

She turned to me, her eyes clear but full of pain. “It will be a lot easier for me to drive than it will be for me to stay here another night like this.

I frowned, running my hand across the morning beard on my jaw. “Okay. Then at least take the Tesla. I want you in a safe car. I’ve been driving the Porsche everywhere, anyway.”

She turned and left on shaky legs. I watched her go, running a hand over my face.

This was so hard. I wanted her more than anything. I wanted her here, in my life, by my side, but we were both so wounded I had no idea how we could do that until we healed. Until we figured out where our heads were—where our hearts were.

I loved her with everything that was in me.

But sometimes love just wasn’t enough.

Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mia

Full circle. That’s what this was. Eleven months ago, I’d made this same drive with an injured heart and emotions like tropical storms swirling inside me. And here I was back where I was then, making this same drive. Like my life was on some kind of sick, endlessly repeating loop.

Only this time, I’d left my heart behind. Battle-wounded and bloody and left for dead. I fought fresh tears every stretch of that two-hour drive until…until I was about fifteen minutes from pulling into the driveway of the ranch. Passing through the old familiar sights of town—the convenience store on the corner, the little rustic café where I hung out sometimes, the small high school, some of my old friends’ houses. A weird sort of peace came over me. I had no idea what it meant. Just that I hoped it would be okay. That I still had any hope at all inside me was a miracle.

Mom greeted me with concern in her eyes, pulling me into her tight hug. When I’d called her and told her I was coming to stay for a while, I hadn’t given her details. But I’m sure she’d concluded a lot.

“I’m glad you’re here, baby.”

I wished I could say the same. I had no idea what I’d accomplish here for the next eight weeks. Going back to Anza was going backwards, I’d once told Heath. But sometimes no matter how old a person got, they needed their mom. And thank God she was here.

“Mom,” I said, pulling back from her and looking her in the eyes. I’m sure she could see from the swelling in mine that I’d been crying—a lot. “I want you to know that I’m so completely happy for you and Peter. And—whatever happens between me and Adam won’t change that.”

She nodded, taking my bag off my shoulder and turned to take it into the family wing of our Bed-and-Breakfast home. “You don’t have to talk to me about this at all. But as far as I’m concerned, you are here to heal your body and your heart.”

She turned to me and smiled, putting a hand to my head. “Your hair is growing back! It’s coming in darker than it was before.”

I put a self-conscious hand to the fuzz on my head.

“You’re going to have respectable coverage by the time the wedding rolls around.”

“Yeah? It grows that fast?”

She grinned. “Yeah. It will be back in no time. Thick and glossy. And the rest of your body will bounce back, too. You’ll see. I’m on a mission to fatten you up.”

“Not sure I feel much like eating these days, even if I’m not nauseous anymore.”

“Well, you have no choice in the matter. We need to put some weight back on these bones. And I’m fixing your favorite stuff every day. I just made a whole fresh batch of baklava. We’re healing body and heart. Okay?”

I nodded.

Mom left me and I immediately went to my desk, rifled through my drawers and found an old blank notebook that I’d been saving until I had something important enough to write in it because it was just so pretty. It had an imprint of illuminations from the medieval Book of Kells, with Celtic knotwork design and gold embossing. I ran a hand over the cover and pulled it open to gaze at the creamy blank pages within.

Without realizing what I was doing, I grabbed a pen and began writing. Those first few entries might have contained more than a little anger. There might have been smudges staining the pages with my tears. But I began to feel better because I had my own place to let it all out.

I wrote in it every day.

And I went to see Dr. Marbrow, my psychotherapist. I was determined to do this thing. I was determined that when I saw him again, I would be healthy enough in body, mind and spirit to look him in the eye and tell him how much I wanted him. How much I needed him in my life and to hope that he felt the same way.

So with that goal to fuel my courage, I faced my demons.

***

After some weeks in Anza, Heath and Kat came up to spend a long weekend with me. I think Heath was really worried about me because he kept giving me that look over dinner—homemade gyros and fresh Caesar salad from Mom’s garden. Of all the delicious things my mom made, this dish was his favorite, but he barely paid attention to it.

After dinner, I was getting the horses ready to take them on a sunset ride when he came out into the barn alone.

“Where’s Kat?” I said as I brushed the dust out of Snowball’s coat.

“She’ll be along. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay…hey, do you want to ride Whiskey or Tate tonight?”

He made a face. “Tate’s an asshole. He threw me repeatedly in high school. Put me on Whiskey. Damn, I haven’t ridden in years.”

I smiled. “I know.”

“How are you
really
doing, Mia?”

I blinked. “I thought I was looking better…maybe not.”

“You don’t know how badly I want to go beat the shit out of Drake right now.”

I burst out laughing. “He’s back to being Drake to you, huh?”

“I can’t believe he broke up with you when you have fucking cancer.”

“I
don’t
have fucking cancer anymore and he didn’t break up with me.”

Heath glowered.

“No. Stop it, okay? Adam is your friend, too. I don’t want you to take sides. There are no sides to take.”

Heath folded his arms and shoved his shoulder up against the barn. “You two didn’t break up?”

“You’re nosey,” I retorted.

“I’m pissed. If you two don’t make it then there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

I dropped the soft brush into the plastic tote and grabbed Snowball’s saddle and pad from the tack room—Heath insisted on carrying it over for me even though I was sure I could do it myself. He rested them on Snowball’s back and I adjusted the pad, stooping to grab the girth to begin cinching it up.

“I think I’ll put Kat on my boy Snowball here.”

“Mia—”

“Heath, you, of all people, know the most about what we are dealing with. What we are going through. The losses we’ve had to face. I can’t wave a magic wand and wish it away. We have shit to work through.”

“Then why aren’t you down there going to counseling with him? A good couples’ counselor—”

“That’s not Adam’s style. He’s going to find his own way to deal with his shit. And I’m finding a way to deal with mine.”

“That’s the problem. You aren’t dealing with it together.”

“Hmm. Maybe it’s not time for us to do that yet. Maybe in order to be a healthy couple, we need to be healthy individuals first.” I said the words and this time, I believed them, though I’d doubted the wisdom in them before, when Adam had said them to me.

He was silent so I went to the stall where Whiskey was poking his head out, eyeing me expectantly. I scratched his head under his forelock. “Who’s my good boy?” I slipped a halter over his head and pulled him out of his stall. “You’re going to be a good boy for Heath, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, or Heath’s going to kick your ass. Ask your buddy Tate,” Heath said. He turned back to me. “This was his idea, wasn’t it? For you to separate, to come back here.”

I didn’t answer, bending over to use the hoof pick to clean out Whiskey’s hooves.

“That’s what I thought.”

I straightened and blew out a breath. “I’m not going to judge him for how he’s dealing with this. He needs time alone. I’m going to give it to him. I’d be hypocrite to judge him when I didn’t exactly handle things the best way possible between us last time.”

Heath looked away. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You are only human.” He sighed. “This relationship shit is so hard. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth it.”

I grabbed the currycomb to give Whiskey a quick once-over on his dusty coat. “Things okay with you and Connor?”

“Better than with you and Adam,” he replied.

“That’s not saying much.”

“Can I go talk to him, at least?”

My hand froze. Heath was one of precious few people who knew all that Adam and I had endured. Maybe it would help him to have a sympathetic ear…If, indeed, Heath’s ear was sympathetic.