15.
Dahlia
“O bnoxious, arrogant,” I bit out the words as I threw things around the small spare room looking for the tent. “Cocky, stupid…inconsiderate.”
The room was filled with a bunch of crap I hadn’t seen in years. Apparently, every time I had given Alex things to take to the dump, he had instead brought them up here and kept them. He had always hated throwing things away and was strangely sentimental. Unlike me. I got rid of everything that I didn’t think I needed any longer. Clothes I hadn’t worn in months. Photos I didn’t look at. I hated ornaments and knickknacks. I tried not to hold on to anything because you never knew when things would be taken away from you. Or worse, when they would leave you.
It had been almost endearing with Alex though; how he kept hold of even the smallest of things. Napkins from restaurants he visited, matchboxes from bars he liked, love letters, rocks he picked up and brought back from his trips away. Now, though, I did not find it endearing at all. I found it infuriating. Because now I would have to go through all this stuff and clear it out…again.
I found the tent and a couple of rolled-up sleeping bags and I dragged them to the front door of the cabin. When I opened the door, Matt looked up sharply at me, his warm brown eyes sinking into my angry gaze. He was sitting on a large log, staring off into the distance like he was in a romantic movie and was contemplating life’s many decisions. I threw the tent and a green sleeping bag down the three cabin steps and then slammed the door closed again.
I was already sick of seeing his face. Which was crazy, considering at one time in my life I would have done anything to see it again. To hear him say my name just one more time. To feel the touch of his lips on mine. But that was then, and this was now.
I had done everything in my power to find him after he left me. But all I got was a note weeks later from someone telling me to stay away from him. That he was done with me and the life we had been building together. That he wasn’t coming back and not to look for him.
It had almost killed me.
Crushed from his rejection, I had shut myself off from every memory of him and the love that we had once shared. I had thrown away our life plans, our photos, and every stupid teddy bear he had ever given me. I had finished college and left there with nothing but my diploma, a half-filled suitcase of clothes, and a broken heart.
I had come back home and within a month or two I had met Alex. He had just joined the Kings, and I didn’t know much about them, but my parents did. I wasn’t sure if I was rebelling against my parents for the sake of it or if I was just lashing out because of the pain I was in, but the more they tried to keep me away from Alex, the more I went to him.
We hadn’t ever been right for each other—even I could see that. We didn’t complement each other’s personalities, or bring out the best in one another. But I had somehow still fallen in love with him. Maybe it was because he had felt like the complete opposite of Matt, and I needed that. Alex had been brutish and pig-headed. Controlling, with a fierce temper that I had always hated, and deep down I knew he wasn’t someone I would normally go for, but I liked the way he made me feel. The way my heart pounded when we were together because he felt dangerous. I liked that he was completely different from Matt.
Matt, who had always made me feel safe and protected. Who had made me feel heard and like I could conquer the world if I just put my head to it. Matt, who had abandoned me for no reason.
Yes, I had fallen in love with Alex because he had made me feel the opposite of what Matt had made me feel.
I never thought Alex would get so attached to the club. I assumed he would outgrow it, and we would move on together. But I came to realize that you never outgrow the Kings. Once a King, alway s a King. Alex liked having them as his family and had no plans to leave.
By the time I realized how dangerous the club life could be, and how deep in it Alex was, my parents had disowned me because they said they couldn’t stand to see me waste my life on a man who didn’t see my potential. How stubborn and stupid I had been, I now realized.
Alex hadn’t wanted me to work. He hadn’t seen a need for me to when he could provide for us both. It didn’t matter that I wanted to. That I wanted to put my degree to use. All that mattered was what he wanted. He was the man, and he was in charge, he used to say in front of people. Though at night, in bed on our own, his touch and his fevered whispers had quelled any worries I’d had.
How did I let that go on for so long? I wondered absently.
Now, I stared around the small, cluttered cabin, the familiar feelings of frustration swarming me. I was angry, but not at Alex; I was angry at myself. I had become such a pushover, giving everything up for a man. A man who loved his club more than me. A club I had always hated.
My breaths were coming heavier and heavier, my chest heaving as my grief mixed with my anger. I felt like a kettle ready to explode, but I had nowhere for the feelings to go other than out.
Alex was gone. I couldn’t yell at him for turning me into this woman. I couldn’t argue with him and tell him I was going to look for a job and I was going to do something more with my life. Because as much as I had wanted to be a mother, I wanted a career first.
But I couldn’t say or do any of those things, because Alex was already dead.
I sat down on the old sofa and put my head in my hands, my head swimming. I wanted to cry, but my tears wouldn’t come—only my desire for them.
Because in truth, tears wouldn’t solve anything—not now, when it was too late to do anything with them. I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t save myself.
I had loved Alex—I still loved Alex—but I felt like I was coming out of a daze. Like the clouds were evaporating, bubbles popping, and I suddenly didn’t see my perfect, handsome husband; I saw a moody, controlling man who had stopped me from doing things with my life. I couldn’t feel the kisses on my forehead before he left on a trip; I could only feel the way my heart felt like it was ripping from my chest when the police knocked on my door. I couldn’t smell the flowers he always brought me back; all I could smell was the scent of the gun after I fired a shot at JD in the clubhouse.
I still loved Alex, but how long, I wondered numbly, had I not been in love with him? Because loving someone and being in love with them were two very different things. The distinction gnawed at me, painfully.
“Oh God,” I said to the cabin around me. I squeezed my eyes closed but all I could see was Alex’s face staring back at me.
‘Name’s Rocky now,’ he said. ‘That’s my road name.’
‘I’m not calling you that.’
‘Need to get on board with what’s happening, Dahlia. I’m a King now, and I’m in for life.’
My eyes sprang back open. I didn’t want to see him right now. I couldn’t see him. I was too angry and too hurt. “Why?” I begged him, wishing he was there to answer me—but of course he wasn’t.
“I miss you,” I said to the room around me, “but I hate you, too.”
I needed to get out of there. I needed the fresh air instead of the tainted air inside the cabin. Air that Alex had once breathed. It suddenly felt suffocating being surrounded by his things. Memories of him were everywhere. Memories of us. Memories from before us. His whole family was gone now; there was no one to pass his name to or to pass on his blood. We hadn’t been able to have kids, and though we hadn’t exactly accepted it, we had definitely given up hope of it happening for us. We didn’t know which of us was the issue, only that the magic of being parents hadn’t been given to us, because no matter how hard we tried, month after month came and went with no signs of pregnancy.
Walking to the door, I grabbed my jacket and slid it on before leaving. I needed to walk. I needed to think. All my memories of our life were becoming jumbled up into something I didn’t recognize. Something ugly.
Outside, Matt was partway through putting his tent up, but he stopped as I slammed the door, watching me as I walked to the path at the edge of the woods and then continued. I avoided eye contact with him, and he didn’t call my name, so I assumed he was letting me have some space—only as I began walking, the sound of his heavy footsteps sounded out behind me.
I looked over my shoulder, letting out a sigh of frustration when I saw that he was following me. He was keeping his distance, but it was still too close for comfort. Why couldn’t he see that I needed space from him, and from the memories of Alex?
I had seen the look on his face when I had been yelling at him, and I felt a little ashamed that I hadn’t cared that my words had hurt him. I wanted them to. I wanted him to feel some small semblance of the pain I had felt after he left me—no, after he abandoned me with no explanation. Because I had been the one left behind to explain to our friends that he was just gone. I had been the one to pack up his things and send them to his family back home. I had been the one that had felt like my heart had been torn from my chest. That had doubted herself night after night. Was it me? Was I not good enough? Had I done something? I never knew, and now I simply didn’t care.
I shook my head, pushing away the painful memories that were threatening to overwhelm me, and I let the rich Colorado forest take me away from everything. Each step on the soft forest floor echoed with the crunch of twigs and leaves, a reminder of nature’s omnipresence.
Towering pines and aspens swayed like ancient dancers, and I looked up at them, finding snatches of the blue sky.
My heart felt heavy, a tumultuous sea of emotions raging within as I tried to understand everything. I’d always found solace in the woods, whether here or nearer to our home, but today nothing could ease my burdened heart. How had my life become so entangled in a complicated web of relationships when one was dead and gone, and the other back from the dead?
When I thought of Alex, my handsome husband, I felt such soul-crushing grief. He had been my rock, my anchor when it seemed I had lost everything. But the image of him had begun to blur. Beneath the handsome exterior, I now noticed the cracks. His moodiness, his desire to be in control.
Then there was Matt. His sudden departure all those years ago had left a gaping hole in my heart, a wound that still ached all these years later. When he had left, he had taken a piece of my soul with him, leaving me to face the questions and sadness alone.
Two men.
The two great loves of my life… How had they both managed to hurt me so much?
Behind me I heard twigs snap as Matt continued to follow, deeper into the forest. The path wound through the trees, the canopy above casting dappled shadows on the ground. I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath of the cool, pine-scented air, wishing I could make sense of my own feelings.
Why did love, something so beautiful, have to be so painful? But more so, why did it have to be so damned confusing?
I glanced back, seeing Matt stopped, leaning against a tree while he waited for me to continue. At least he was doing as I had asked and was keeping his distance from me. I continued walking, my thoughts drifting to the idea of forgiveness.
Could I forgive Alex for the way he had tried to control me? For the way he had left me? He was dead—there was nothing he could do now to change what had happened. Could I forgive Matt for abandoning me when I needed him the most? But more importantly, could I forgive myself for the choices I had made?
I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. I wasn’t sure who I could trust. Everyone I knew had abandoned me in one way or another. Even myself.