Four Letter Word
Page 98
Maybe he couldn’t.
But Brian heard them. I could feel the tension leaving his body.
When the father stepped away, I looked up at Brian. His eyes had lost their focus and his breathing was shallow.
He was processing what he’d just been given.
It was a lot. I could tell.
I was sure he never expected it.
Brian gave that money knowing he’d never take credit for it.
I stood there silent and allowed him to process, wiping tears away and slowly composing myself.
Then Brian blinked several times through a deep breath, brought our hands that were still together in front of him, and wrapped his other hand around the back of mine.
He stared at our joining.
Someone paged X-ray on the intercom overhead. I told myself I’d respond to that in a minute.
I just needed another minute.
Just one.
“I’m so sorry, Brian,” I told him, finally speaking again, not remembering if I had said that already when I was comforting him minutes ago.
I whispered a lot. I know I whispered I loved him. I couldn’t help it.
His eyes lifted to my face, and I saw how bright they appeared now, still shadowed with sadness but not as much as they were when I first rounded the corner and saw him standing here. He looked different, relieved maybe, but it was almost as if he was hiding that behind a different shade of pain now.
Pain for the parents who had just lost their child. The kind of pain anyone would feel and sympathize with. And pain because he was looking at me and he didn’t know what that meant, where we stood, or how I was feeling, and he worried the worst while thinking it was useless to hope for the best.
“I—”
“I fixed it,” Brian interrupted my sad attempt at small talk, because I honestly didn’t know what to say to him and knew if I didn’t say something and kept watching him hold me and look at me like that, I’d end up kissing him.
I blinked up at Brian, absorbing his words.
“What?” I asked, stepping closer.
He sniffed, and the corner of his mouth tilted up the tiniest bit.
“Those videos are gone, Wild,” he shared. His voice was confident. “All of them. Got everything taken down from that site. There’s nothing left of me on there, and there’s no trace of it anywhere else. It’s gone.”
I heard what he was saying. I understood what he was saying.
I just didn’t believe it.
“How? How did you do that?”
He shook his head and held my hand tighter with both of his, telling me, “Doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
“But what about if someone saved those videos on their own computer or something? They could share them all over the Internet.”
That had become a worry of mine that I’d discovered while lying in bed that first night without Brian.
It stressed me out so badly, I didn’t fall asleep until the sun came up.
“Not an option,” he answered firmly. “That dickhead running the site wouldn’t allow anyone seeing his shit and not paying for it. You couldn’t save images or videos on your own devices. He made sure of that.”
“Oh,” I replied, pulling my lips between my teeth and looking away.
My heart started beating faster.
He fixed it, just like he said he would.
“Wild.”
My eyes slid back to Brian’s.
He opened his mouth, and I knew what he was going to ask me, and for some reason I couldn’t explain, I panicked.
I covered his mouth with my other hand and prevented him from speaking.
“I can’t, Brian,” I blurted out, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, watching his brows pull together, his eyes go sad, and feeling his breath burst against my palm. “I can’t. I’m …I just need to think a little more, okay? This has been really hard and I just, I don’t know if I’m ready.” I slid my hand away and stepped back, pulling my other out of his hold. “I’m sorry.”
Then, so I wouldn’t see that look on his face any longer, that look that was killing me and making it hard to breathe, I turned and ran out of the ICU, leaving the portable machine behind.
Brian called out for me but I kept running.
I rode the elevators to the bottom floor and hurried back to my department, shutting myself in the room I was slowly going crazy in and busying myself with the work waiting for me.
Work I was grateful for. I needed that distraction now more than ever.
Hours ticked by, and even though my focus was on my job because it had to be, my mind still wandered. And the more it wandered, the more I thought about Brian, and the more I thought about Brian, the more I thought about everything, him fixing us and the reaction I had to it, bringing me to the conclusion I didn’t want to make while being stuck at work.
I’d made a mistake.
What I’d said to Brian wasn’t entirely true.
Yes, it was really hard finding out what Brian had been doing and learning what all he’d kept from me.
It broke my heart.
Yes, I didn’t know if I was ready to go back to the life I was sharing with Brian, if I could allow myself to feel that kind of love again when I knew what losing it felt like.
Love was a risk. It was wild and unpredictable. You could either hold on for the ride, not knowing how it would end, or you could let go and never know the amazing you could’ve had.
And yes, I was sorry. I was sorry for what happened to us. I was sorry for everything Brian had to face without me.
But what wasn’t true was that I didn’t need to think. I didn’t need to convince myself who I wanted to hand my heart over to so they could heal it. I didn’t need to weigh the pros and cons of sharing my life with someone who had it in him to make me happy again, the happiest, and I didn’t need to wonder if choosing Brian was the right choice, because I knew the answer.
He was never a choice. He was my fate. My boy. Everything he ever promised me he made sure to see through.
He fixed it, just like he said he would.
And running from him was a mistake I needed to make right on.
I was holding on for this ride. I’d never let go of it.
I loved him. I’d die loving him.
Heart racing and ready, I counted down the remaining seconds of my shift while staring at the time clock, on the verge of screaming, it was taking so long. After punching out and grabbing my things, I ran through the hospital and out to my car, tossed my book bag on the passenger seat, started it up, and peeled out.
I drove moderately fast to get to the house, figuring if I was to get pulled over, I’d just explain my situation to the police, hoping they were understanding of a woman needing to right her wrongs and get the love of her life back.
If they weren’t and issued me a ticket, so be it. I wasn’t slowing down.
Throwing the car into Park and cutting the engine, I ran up the driveway, jumped up onto the porch, stood in front of the door while taking in several calming breaths, getting my nerves in check, and then knocked.
I felt it was the appropriate thing to do, all things considered.
The door swung open before I had time to lower my hand, and before Brian could question what I was doing there or ask why I was knocking again, since he looked geared up to do just that, I opened my mouth and beat him to speaking.
“Hey, Trouble.”
He blinked, looking shocked at my greeting, which I understood.
But Brian heard them. I could feel the tension leaving his body.
When the father stepped away, I looked up at Brian. His eyes had lost their focus and his breathing was shallow.
He was processing what he’d just been given.
It was a lot. I could tell.
I was sure he never expected it.
Brian gave that money knowing he’d never take credit for it.
I stood there silent and allowed him to process, wiping tears away and slowly composing myself.
Then Brian blinked several times through a deep breath, brought our hands that were still together in front of him, and wrapped his other hand around the back of mine.
He stared at our joining.
Someone paged X-ray on the intercom overhead. I told myself I’d respond to that in a minute.
I just needed another minute.
Just one.
“I’m so sorry, Brian,” I told him, finally speaking again, not remembering if I had said that already when I was comforting him minutes ago.
I whispered a lot. I know I whispered I loved him. I couldn’t help it.
His eyes lifted to my face, and I saw how bright they appeared now, still shadowed with sadness but not as much as they were when I first rounded the corner and saw him standing here. He looked different, relieved maybe, but it was almost as if he was hiding that behind a different shade of pain now.
Pain for the parents who had just lost their child. The kind of pain anyone would feel and sympathize with. And pain because he was looking at me and he didn’t know what that meant, where we stood, or how I was feeling, and he worried the worst while thinking it was useless to hope for the best.
“I—”
“I fixed it,” Brian interrupted my sad attempt at small talk, because I honestly didn’t know what to say to him and knew if I didn’t say something and kept watching him hold me and look at me like that, I’d end up kissing him.
I blinked up at Brian, absorbing his words.
“What?” I asked, stepping closer.
He sniffed, and the corner of his mouth tilted up the tiniest bit.
“Those videos are gone, Wild,” he shared. His voice was confident. “All of them. Got everything taken down from that site. There’s nothing left of me on there, and there’s no trace of it anywhere else. It’s gone.”
I heard what he was saying. I understood what he was saying.
I just didn’t believe it.
“How? How did you do that?”
He shook his head and held my hand tighter with both of his, telling me, “Doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
“But what about if someone saved those videos on their own computer or something? They could share them all over the Internet.”
That had become a worry of mine that I’d discovered while lying in bed that first night without Brian.
It stressed me out so badly, I didn’t fall asleep until the sun came up.
“Not an option,” he answered firmly. “That dickhead running the site wouldn’t allow anyone seeing his shit and not paying for it. You couldn’t save images or videos on your own devices. He made sure of that.”
“Oh,” I replied, pulling my lips between my teeth and looking away.
My heart started beating faster.
He fixed it, just like he said he would.
“Wild.”
My eyes slid back to Brian’s.
He opened his mouth, and I knew what he was going to ask me, and for some reason I couldn’t explain, I panicked.
I covered his mouth with my other hand and prevented him from speaking.
“I can’t, Brian,” I blurted out, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, watching his brows pull together, his eyes go sad, and feeling his breath burst against my palm. “I can’t. I’m …I just need to think a little more, okay? This has been really hard and I just, I don’t know if I’m ready.” I slid my hand away and stepped back, pulling my other out of his hold. “I’m sorry.”
Then, so I wouldn’t see that look on his face any longer, that look that was killing me and making it hard to breathe, I turned and ran out of the ICU, leaving the portable machine behind.
Brian called out for me but I kept running.
I rode the elevators to the bottom floor and hurried back to my department, shutting myself in the room I was slowly going crazy in and busying myself with the work waiting for me.
Work I was grateful for. I needed that distraction now more than ever.
Hours ticked by, and even though my focus was on my job because it had to be, my mind still wandered. And the more it wandered, the more I thought about Brian, and the more I thought about Brian, the more I thought about everything, him fixing us and the reaction I had to it, bringing me to the conclusion I didn’t want to make while being stuck at work.
I’d made a mistake.
What I’d said to Brian wasn’t entirely true.
Yes, it was really hard finding out what Brian had been doing and learning what all he’d kept from me.
It broke my heart.
Yes, I didn’t know if I was ready to go back to the life I was sharing with Brian, if I could allow myself to feel that kind of love again when I knew what losing it felt like.
Love was a risk. It was wild and unpredictable. You could either hold on for the ride, not knowing how it would end, or you could let go and never know the amazing you could’ve had.
And yes, I was sorry. I was sorry for what happened to us. I was sorry for everything Brian had to face without me.
But what wasn’t true was that I didn’t need to think. I didn’t need to convince myself who I wanted to hand my heart over to so they could heal it. I didn’t need to weigh the pros and cons of sharing my life with someone who had it in him to make me happy again, the happiest, and I didn’t need to wonder if choosing Brian was the right choice, because I knew the answer.
He was never a choice. He was my fate. My boy. Everything he ever promised me he made sure to see through.
He fixed it, just like he said he would.
And running from him was a mistake I needed to make right on.
I was holding on for this ride. I’d never let go of it.
I loved him. I’d die loving him.
Heart racing and ready, I counted down the remaining seconds of my shift while staring at the time clock, on the verge of screaming, it was taking so long. After punching out and grabbing my things, I ran through the hospital and out to my car, tossed my book bag on the passenger seat, started it up, and peeled out.
I drove moderately fast to get to the house, figuring if I was to get pulled over, I’d just explain my situation to the police, hoping they were understanding of a woman needing to right her wrongs and get the love of her life back.
If they weren’t and issued me a ticket, so be it. I wasn’t slowing down.
Throwing the car into Park and cutting the engine, I ran up the driveway, jumped up onto the porch, stood in front of the door while taking in several calming breaths, getting my nerves in check, and then knocked.
I felt it was the appropriate thing to do, all things considered.
The door swung open before I had time to lower my hand, and before Brian could question what I was doing there or ask why I was knocking again, since he looked geared up to do just that, I opened my mouth and beat him to speaking.
“Hey, Trouble.”
He blinked, looking shocked at my greeting, which I understood.
