Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
Lincoln / Present
I ’ve been to the white colonial-styled home plenty of times over the last ten years, but this time it’s different. There’s a tension in the air that makes it harder to breathe as I walk up the uneven brick pathway leading to the front door, my heart hammering in my chest as I raise my hand to knock.
But the door opens before I can even hit it, revealing a petite redhead on the other side, like she’s been expecting me. I stare at Matt Conklin’s wife, swallowing thickly and unsure of what to say.
“It’s about time,” is how Marissa greets me.
I push past my discomfort and find my voice. “I’m sorry for avoiding you. It wasn’t fair of me to leave you suffering alone that way.”
She sighs. “Lincoln…” She shakes her head, looking over her shoulder at the brown-haired little boy playing video games on the couch before turning to me again. “I— we were never alone. Cooper and I have had a wonderful support system through it all.”
I look from her to her son and then down at the ground. Suddenly, a hand reaches out and squeezes my arm, lifting my gaze. She steps aside to let me in, saying, “I just wish you would have realized sooner that you have people too.”
It isn’t until I pass her that I see the distinct bump on her stomach. “You’re…?”
Her smile turns sad as she rubs her sloped midsection. “We found out a few weeks before the…” She looks down, clearing her throat. “We found out a few weeks before the shooting. He was so excited to be a father of two.”
Jesus. Conklin was going to be a dad again. He hadn’t said anything to me. When he’d found out about Cooper, I was the first person he told. Not even his parents or hers knew until they did a big reveal during the holidays.
Closing the door behind me, she looks at her son and says, “Look who’s here, Coop.”
My godson turns around, launching off the couch the second he sees me. “Uncle Hawk! Wanna play video games with me?”
I tussle the five-year-old’s hair. “I won’t be able to stay long, kid. Maybe another time. I just wanted to come check on you and your mother.”
“Mommy said you were gonna come by but that you were really busy,” he says, making me look over at Marissa. She shrugs, then nods toward the kitchen for me to follow her.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Why don’t you get back to your game while I go chat with your mom? I’ll make sure to see you before I leave.”
His disappointment fractures my heart, but he nods after glancing briefly at his mom. I follow Marrisa into the kitchen and accept the glass of water she offers me. “I’d give you a Corona, but I don’t keep them around anymore. Matt is the only one who liked them.”
I sit down at the table with her, clenching the cool glass in my palm. “Water is fine.”
She studies me, her dark eyes dancing along my face before moving to my left shoulder knowingly. “You guys used to say water was for pussies and drink beer with every meal when you got together.”
Chuckling, I stare at the drink. “The way we saw it, if girls could have mimosas in the morning, we could have beer.”
Marissa rolls her eyes. “Except mimosas barely have any alcohol.”
“Not when we made them,” I muse.
A small smile tugs on the corners of her mouth. Matt had gotten her tipsy a few times when he made her mimosas. “I’m glad you stopped by, Hawk. How are you doing? Really . None of those bullshit answers you give everybody else.”
She really wants to know? “I came here to make sure you were okay, not to talk about me.”
She’s quiet for a second before nodding, putting a hand on her stomach, and caressing it lovingly. “Things were rough at first. I didn’t know how I’d do things without Matt because he was such a staple in our lives. He may have gotten on my nerves sometimes, but he was the best husband and father. We made a good team.”
I nod in agreement. “You did.”
“But I remembered how much Cooper needed me,” she says, her voice lower as her eyes go to the other room. “And our little bean. To be honest, I wasn’t sure she’d survive. The stress was too much, and my doctor thought I might have miscarried after the funeral.”
“She?”
Marissa’s smile grows. “Yeah, it’s a girl. Matt always used to say he was terrified of being a girl dad, but I know he would have been a great one. She would have had him wrapped around her little finger from day one.”
I have no doubt in my mind that’s true. “My lieutenant said you stopped by to grab the rest of his stuff,” I note, taking a sip of water to quench my parched throat. “I thought about coming by sooner, but I had no idea what I could have said to you. Nothing would have changed what happened, no matter how badly I wish it could.”
Her eyes go to the table, staring absently for a minute. Then she closes them, takes a deep breath, and lifts her gaze. “I was mad at first. So mad. But not at you. At…life. The world. I didn’t know how it was fair that I lost the love of my life and had to go on raising two children like I was strong. Because I wasn’t. There are still hard days, and it’s been almost six months. If I didn’t have my friends and family here, I don’t know what I would have done.”
Throat bobbing as guilt creeps up it, I set the glass on the table and sit up. “Marissa—”
“I know you.” She cuts me off, her tone firm but soft at the same time. “I know you’ve never handled your feelings well. You tended to shut down and close yourself off to the world like your emotions were a burden. That’s why I kept reaching out, even though I knew you wouldn’t let anybody help you. I lost my soulmate, sure. But you witnessed it. You lost your best friend. Your colleague. And you were hurt trying to get him out of there. We both lost somebody that day and maybe even lost pieces of ourselves along the way. But I’ll always be grateful to you for at least trying to save him.”
Wetting my lips, I shake my head. “I didn’t, though.”
Marissa reaches out and pats my hand. “No,” she murmurs. “But you tried. You could have died too, but it didn’t stop you.”
“It should have been—”
“Don’t,” she stops me, eyes getting glassy. “I don’t want you to do that to yourself. Your life is no less important than his was. Do you hear me?”
How can she say that? “We both know that he had a lot more to live for than I did. That’s all I mean by it. Whether you want me to say it or not, I would have changed places with him in a heartbeat if I could. I should have never asked him to go there with me. It’s…”
It’s my fault.
That’s what I don’t say.
But she knows what I mean.
She looks away, wiping under her eyes with the tip of her finger.
“I came here to say how sorry I am for being such a dickhead all these months,” I tell her, pushing up to stand. “I love you guys like a second family, and I let you down. I let a lot of people down.”
Marissa looks up at me, tears on the brink of falling again as she furiously swats them away and blinks rapidly to dry her eyes. “You’re here now.”
Is that enough though? It doesn’t feel it. “I have to finish mandatory therapy to go back,” I admit. “It got me thinking about you and Cooper and…” I lift my shoulders, feeling the twinge of pain radiating in my bad one. “And everybody that’s important to me.”
Her hand stays on top of her stomach. “You will always have a place here, Hawk. Remember that next time you need someone. Cooper has missed having you around, and so have I. We aren’t going anywhere.”
All I do is dip my chin and slide a hand in the front pocket of my jeans. She smiles at me, cementing the sentiment. It eases the tightrope that’s been holding my heart together for some time.
“Next time you come over, you’ll have to tell me about Georgia,” she says, stretching her legs out.
One of my brows goes up. “What’s there to tell?” I ask, playing dumb.
A knowing smirk lifts half her lips. “I still have friends around who know what you drive and where she lives. Are you going to tell me she keeps having plumbing problems that you go over and help her with? Or are you going to be real with me?”
There’s a sarcastic reply on the tip of my tongue that I swallow. She’d see right past it anyway. “I better go say hi to Cooper before I leave, or he’ll be mad at me.”
She makes a thoughtful noise that sounds awfully like a laugh.
Because she knows damn well that I haven’t quit Georgia.
Not fully.
Not yet.
*
The door cracks open into the waiting room, where I’m huddled up in an uncomfortable chair, staring at pamphlets on the wall about bipolar and multiple personality disorder, OCD, and a slew of other depressing diagnoses. The doctor I’m slowly getting used to seeing once a week pokes her head in. “I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Danforth. Come on in.”
She seems frazzled, her face feigning nonchalance, but her eyes glazed with something panicked as I step past her.
“Are you all right?”
She closes and locks the door before gesturing for me to take my usual seat. “That’s my question,” she replies, bemused. “But I’m fine. It’s been a long day, is all. Please, sit down.”
I take my time making myself comfortable as she walks over to her desk and digs through her bag, resting on the office chair. I take in her body, noting that the clothes she wears do little to complement the curves I’m almost positive are hiding underneath. I see it when she wears skirts and dresses—the feminine form that a lot of guys, including myself, can appreciate.
It’s not normal for her to be unorganized, but whatever happened today has obviously jarred her enough to be off her game.
Sitting down at my spot, I watch as she goes through her desk and bag, then studies the space around her until she finds whatever she’s looking for. With her back toward me, I see her straighten and pause, and then I hear her take a deep breath to collect herself.
“If you need to reschedule, I’ll understand.”
She turns to me, a professional smile gracing her face that seems forced. It’s a mask I’m familiar with because I wear one too. “I can’t let you get out of this that easily,” she says, the amusement cutting through some of the other harbored emotions on her face.
When she sits down, she sets the notepad on her lap and settles in.
I study her for a moment. “You forgot a pen.”
She looks down and closes her eyes, sighing at the realization.
“I’d hate for you not to be able to write notes about all the red flags I’m waving,” I joke half-heartedly.
On her way back with a pen in her hand, a small smile appears on her mouth. We’re climbing to the double digits, making me think I’ve still got it. I like making women smile, especially when it’s obvious they don’t want to.
“I wouldn’t call them red,” she tells me. “Maybe beige.”
“Maybe you’re color blind,” I counter.
This time, I get a gentle laugh from her. “That could be,” she agrees, settling back into her spot and wiggling her pen at me before setting it on top of her notepad.
She can’t seem to sit still, shifting and fidgeting in ways she never did before.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” I ask again, noticing the slight wrinkles in her silk shirt that’s haphazardly tucked into her black pants. “It’s not my business, but I know when someone is having an off day. I’m practically an expert at them at this point.”
Her smile wavers as she flattens a hand down her shirt as if she knows exactly what I’m noticing. I couldn’t care less about the wrinkles; it’s simply an observation. “I had a pet emergency earlier this morning that ran all day since it’s just m—” She stops herself, her lips twitching. “It was a bit chaotic for me, but everything is okay. I’m here. You’re here. Let’s talk about you.”
I’d rather we not. “It’s hard doing things on your own. I’ve always prided myself on being independent and figuring out solutions to problems, but I found comfort in having somebody to share the burdens with sometimes.”
She tilts her head thoughtfully. “I suppose we’re never truly alone.”
That’s not the first time I’ve heard that lately, is it? “Marissa told me that.” When I see her brows rise slightly, I elaborate. “Marissa Conklin. Matt Conklin’s wife. I saw her earlier this week.”
“How did that go?”
I’ve thought about it a lot this week. “It went better than expected.”
“Did you think it would go badly?”
If I were in her shoes, I’d probably be pissed. But Marissa isn’t me. “I’m not sure if I expected an angry mob with pitchforks or simply an angry woman throwing some much-deserved heated words at me,” I admit, staring out the window leading to Main Street below us.
We’re two stories up, so the only thing I see is the brick buildings across the road. Middle Point has a historic downtown of old storefronts that have since been converted into apartments above newer businesses on the first floor. It’s a pretty area. Quiet but bustling, especially during leaf-peeping season, when tourists come to see the fall foliage as the leaves begin to change.
When I turn to the woman sitting quietly across from me, I rest my hands on my lap. “Instead of getting reamed out like I deserve, I got a woman who somehow put all of that hurt aside to tell me she was grateful for me. Grateful .” I scoff to myself, still unable to let that soak in. “She basically told me I’m not alone and that I shouldn’t beat myself up over what happened.”
The good doctor nods. “I’m inclined to agree.”
My eyes roll. “Of course you are.”
Her pen scribbles across the paper.
“She’s having a baby,” I say, still picturing her round belly. Matt always said he wanted another kid. I told him he was crazy, but he always laughed it off. “Just you wait,” he says, bumping my arm with his elbow. “It’s a whole new feeling when it’s your own kid.”
But that day never came, and I’m fine with it. Kids have never been a priority for me, and that’s probably for the better.
“How does that make you feel?” she asks next, watching as I reminisce.
How do I feel? “Happy for her, I guess. Sad for her too, given the circumstances. She has to raise two kids by herself. Matt will never…” That familiar, warm ball of emotion works its way up my throat. “Matt will never see his daughter walk or talk or do any of the big milestones.”
Because of me, he’s going to miss so much. I don’t know why Marissa isn’t more pissed at me for taking that away from her—from all of them.
“Have you ever considered having children?” she asks, pulling me from my head.
The sky is relatively clear, reminding me that I need to take advantage of the weather to get some things done around the house when I get back. “It was a thought that crossed my mind a time or two, but parenthood isn’t for everybody.”
“Meaning?”
How do I explain this without sounding like an asshole? “You’ve known me long enough to see that I’m a little emotionally withdrawn. If I can’t be emotionally available for a relationship to work, I sure as hell can’t provide the kind of emotional availability a kid needs.”
“That’s very self-aware of you.”
“Or sad.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s sad at all, Mr. Danforth.”
The formality has me staring at her for a second as her pen taps against the notepad. “I want to want kids. Most of my friends are married with families. They’re settled down. Happy. I don’t have it in me to get to that point.”
“You don’t have it in you to want children? Or be happy?”
That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? “I was happy once,” I murmur.
“What happened?”
I meet her eyes, leaning back and draping an arm across the back of the cushion. “I let a woman I barely knew move into my life and change it forever.”