Heal Me (Magnolia Series Book 2) Page 3

  Properly scolded, I snuggle deeper into him, biting my tongue to keep from apologizing. He can fuss about it all he wants, I still don’t deserve him.

  “I promise I’ll try.”

  “I want you to do more than try, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  I sit up and stare into his eyes, my own filling with more freaking tears. “Thank you,” I whisper, leaning in and kissing his soft lips.

  He grabs my neck, his fingers holding me tight as he crushes his lips into mine, his other hand gripping my nightgown. His desperation seeps into every part of me. All the fear, helplessness, and pain I forced him to feel pouring out. It breaks my heart.

  Pulling away only far enough to lay his forehead against mine, he lets out a harsh breath. “I love you, Ellie. So fucking much,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I need you to understand. I love all of you. Every part.”

  “I know. I know you do. I love you too.”

  “I don’t think you do know. You wouldn’t be saying I deserve someone better if you did.”

  The irritated tone in his voice sets me back on edge. “Nik, it’s hard, okay? After everything… If I could turn it off like a switch I would. Believe me, I don’t like hating myself. And I’m not choosing to be depressed, or an anxious mess. I can’t help it if my life is one long, sad, tragic story. I can’t help it,” I snap, standing up before he can stop me.

  He grabs me around my leg, rubbing his thumb on the inside of my thigh. Memories of the other night flood my mind, immediately softening me. “El, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be an asshole. I swear I don’t. I’m just scared. I don’t want to lose you,” he frets, pleading with me to forgive him with those sad, crystal blue eyes.

  Damn him and his perfect face. I’ll never be able to stay mad at him for anything.

  Letting out a sigh, I step closer and wrap him in my arms, pressing his head against my chest and stroking his messy hair. “You’re not going to lose me. I don’t want to be anywhere else,” I assure him, kissing the top of his head. “Let’s go back to bed. I have a lot I need to say and I want you to be comfortable.”

  He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing his crutch then hobbling towards the bedroom. I follow behind with his glass of milk.

  ~

  “Will you tell me about him?” his soft voice asks, his warm lips moving against my shoulder.

  We’ve been laying down for probably ten minutes now, him being patient as always, me trying to decide how to start. It’s been so long.

  I suppose the beginning is best. Maybe if I start there, I’ll be able to make it to the ending.

  “He was born February twenty-first, twelve hours before Josh’s daddy died. They induced me. Miss Naomi told Mr. Ezra not to rush, it would be a while. He was supposed to be there that night, but he didn’t show up. One of neighbors did though. They had taken him to another hospital. I had Lucas two hours after we found out. Mr. Ezra passed the next day. It was the most bittersweet moment I think I’ve ever had. I never knew a heart could be so full and broken all at once.”

  Nik pulls me close and kisses my temple. “I’m sorry. That couldn’t have been easy for any of you.”

  “It wasn’t, but we all tried to concentrate on our little guy. We knew that’s what Mr. Ezra would’ve wanted. He was so tiny. I’d never seen anything so little. Those first few weeks I just held him and stared at him in awe. He would make these precious little faces, and cute noises. He smelled so good too. Have you ever smelled a baby?”

  “Yeah. Carlie smelled amazing. I wanted to steal her and take her home with me.”

  “That’s exactly what it does.”

  “Did he have hair? Carlie had a head full. She looked like a little Elvis.”

  I smile, imagining her, a tiny thing with a mushroom of dark curls. “He did. It was so blonde it looked almost white. He was my little cotton top. His eyes were dark like mine when he was born, but by his first birthday they had turned hazel. Then they changed to brown like his daddy’s by his second. The doctor was amazed by it, he’d never known a baby’s eyes to keep changing that way. He said they usually didn’t change anymore after four months. I wonder sometimes what color they would be now.”

  “How old—”

  “He’d be four,” I whisper, tucking my face into his chest while fighting back tears. I can cry when I’m done.

  “What was his first word?” he asks, his breath blowing my hair, his hand rubbing trails up and down my side.

  “Mama…then dada. He was such a happy baby, Nik. The only time I ever had trouble with him was when he had a cold or something. He was sleeping all night by the time he was three months old. He always woke up with a smile and would play by himself for hours, happy as a lark.”

  “He sounds amazing.”

  “He was. He was perfect,” I whisper.

  We go quiet again, neither of us wanting to move forward. Nik’s curiosity finally gets the best of him. “Was he with Josh that day?”

  “Yes.” I stop, taking in deep, strangled breaths. It takes about a dozen before I can go on. Nik’s comforting arms never leave me. “Josh never wore his seatbelt, no matter how much I fussed, but he always made sure his boy was buckled up tight. If it had only spun out, or flipped once or twice instead of six… He was gone when they cut him free. They told me he didn’t suffer, but I knew they were lying. The man at the funeral home suggested his casket be closed. I’ll never be able to get the picture out of my head of my precious little boy so broken, cold, and pale on that metal table.”

  I blink and Nik is somehow hovering over me, his thumb wiping away my tears. “Shhhh. That’s enough. You can tell me more later. Let’s sleep for awhile.”

  I push against his chest. “No. No, you were right. It’s been too long. I’ve kept him hidden for too long. I haven’t said his name in over two years. What kind of mama does that?” I whisper.

  “One that needed time to heal.”

  I laugh then. It sounds hysterical even to my own ears. “I think you mean one that was too ashamed.”

  His face contorts with distress. “Ashamed? No, Ellie. Why would you…? It was an accident. You weren’t even there.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” I gasp, struggling to hang on, “because I was at home, still too hungover to take care of my baby.”

  His hand slides down my arm as he sits back, staring at me. He leaves it resting on top of mine and I nearly choke on my relief. I think if he let me go the pain burning through me would turn me to ash. I feel like he’s the only thing keeping me here.

  He shakes his head and swallows before taking a deep breath. “So you had too much to drink. You still weren’t there, Ellie. You didn’t cause the wreck. It wasn’t your fault.”

  I scramble up onto my knees, my self-hatred boiling up and over. “He would’ve been home with me if I hadn’t gone to that stupid party. If I hadn’t been an idiot and drank too much Josh would’ve left him with me. He never would’ve gone to the store in the first place!” I yell, jabbing my fingers into my chest. “But I had that horrible headache because I was fucking hungover! We didn’t have any aspirin. He said I needed it. I had to have it. It is my fault! I killed them, Nik. I did! They never would’ve been there if it wasn’t for me!” I sob, falling to pieces in front of him.

  He grabs me up and cradles me in his lap, rocking and soothing me as best he can. I love him for it, but it’s not enough to beat this monster.

  ~

  Guilt is such a vicious creature. Sometimes you think you’ve moved past it, but it always comes creeping back. You’ll be fine, then a wave hits you, leaving you sputtering and gasping for air. I know it’s the root of all my issues, but I don’t know what to do with it, how to let go of it, or how to put to rest ghosts that won’t stay dead.

  Nik has become very familiar with this dark side of me over the last several days. It’s like I cut it out and placed it on a table for him to see. Look, there it is. See? That’s who I really am. Do you get it now? That’s the reason I hide,
the reason I can’t breathe, or stop my hands from shaking. The reason I wanted to die.

  It doesn’t matter how far down you push it, how you hide it, or how you dress it up as something else. It’s still there gnawing at your insides like a dog with its favorite bone. Still in the bile that rises up from your churning stomach.

  Nik has tried everything he can think of to reason with me, bless him. The rational side of me knows he’s right. Josh had to nearly force me to go to that party. It was the first time I had really gone out and had a kid-free night since having him. Anna and Brandon had invited me and made sure I enjoyed myself. They all wanted me to have fun. I didn’t make Josh leave that morning, or make him take our son either. I asked him to stay home. He chose not to. He took him with him all the time, it could’ve happened any day. We take that risk every time we get behind the wheel.

  I know all of that but the irrational part of me, the part that’s still haunted with pain, can’t let it go.

  He called Vicky after I broke down again Friday morning. They had been talking for days already. I couldn’t be mad at him; I should’ve called her myself. It took her two hours to talk me off the ledge, then she talked to Nik for another hour after that, he said. I had fallen into an exhausted, fitful sleep. She’s called twice a day since then, talking to both of us. By Tuesday, I was somewhat able to climb out of the dark hole I had crawled into.

  At first, it felt like I had lost him all over again, the pain a black, gaping wound, but Nik was right. I had needed to talk about him. And I have, for hours and hours, and Nik has listened to me pour my memories out through tears and even laughter. He hasn’t tried to fix me, or put me back together, he’s just stayed by my side as I’ve fought with this monster, being gentle but relentless. When I push, he pulls. If I cry, he holds. If I shout, he soothes. When I fall, he picks me back up. He hasn’t faltered once despite the disaster I’ve been. Everything he does saving me, healing me, just a little bit more.

  Last night was a prime example and the turning point I’ve avoided for far too long.

  I was once again beating myself up. This time for his injuries. His shoulder, neck, and head were killing him. He was doing his best to hide it from me, but I could tell. The pain was etched all over his face.

  I had gotten him some painkillers and an ice pack. He thanked me, as always, and I apologized, as always.

  When I pulled away he grabbed my wrist and we were held motionless in a stare down, his eyes boring a hole through my soul. “It’s not your fault.”

  My heart jolted, but I played it off, plastering on a fake smile. “Okay, but I’m still sorry you’re hurting.”

  “Ellie. It’s not your fault.”

  The seriousness in his voice turned the jolt into an earthquake. It crawled from my stomach, up my spine, then wrapped around my heart, burning, twisting, and sending dread through my every nerve. I pulled away from him – he let me that time – but kept his eyes locked on mine. I was trapped in his gaze, rooted to the floor.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Please stop saying that,” I whispered, backing away, my fear breaking me free. The room was closing in on me, my heart hammered against my ribs. I had to get away.

  He’d slowly got up from his chair, walking towards me slowly, intent on his purpose.

  “Nik, please. Don’t.”

  “No, you have to hear me. It was not your fault.” He stressed each word, making them drop like stones between us as he drew closer and closer.

  I had backed myself into the corner of the living room, desperate to get away from him, but too afraid to think straight.

  “It was not your fault.”

  “Okay! Enough already,” I spat at him, my fear turning to anger. “It wasn’t my fault. There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

  He shook his head. “It was not your fault.”

  “Stop it, Nik! Just stop it!”

  “It was not your fault.”

  The dam inside of me began to crack, I begged him then. “Please. Why are you doing this to me?”

  His eyes were bright with tears, but he shook his head and pressed on. “You have to forgive yourself, Ellie. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.”

  He’d reached me by then, and his hands came up to cup my face as I sobbed. “I can’t. I’ve tried. I just can’t.”

  Fat tears ran down his cheeks, matching those of my own. “Say it. Say the words,” he begged.

  I shook my head, choking and gasping. “It won’t work!”

  “Try it, for me. Please, Ellie. Just try.”

  I couldn’t stand it another second, his pain or my own. I would’ve done anything to make it stop, so I gave him what he wanted. “It was not my fault,” I rushed out in a whisper, then tried to push him away, intent on running and maybe never coming back.

  He was an impenetrable wall. “Again.”

  I beat against his chest with my fists. “No! No, I said it. I gave you what you wanted, now leave me alone!”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. You have to say it.”

  “I hate you! I fucking hate you!”

  “I know, but you still have to say it.”

  “IT WAS NOT MY FAULT!”

  “Again.”

  “It was not my fault!”

  “Again.”

  “It was not my fault!”

  “Again.”

  I grabbed fists full of his shirt, shaking him, pleading. “Goddamn you, Nik.”

  “Again,” he whispered, his blue eyes begging.

  Knowing I was trapped and that there was only one way out, I held his stare as the words fell from my lips one more time. “It was not my fault.”

  For the first time in nearly two years, I believe them. I broke then. Years of guilt and pain rose up inside me like that first terrible wave of a tsunami, savage and unforgiving in its power. It crashed through me, leaving me in tiny, scattered pieces on the floor, gasping for air. The second wave followed right behind the first, and all I could do was ride it out. There were no more walls to hide behind, no strength left inside me to cling to. Great sobs wracked my body like never before.

  Nik was right there with me. Arms around me, he buried his face in my hair as he cried too. He was whispering something while he rocked us back and forth. At first, I was too lost in my grief to understand him, but then, between one gasp and the next I heard him.

  Please, God, help her. Help her see. Help her forgive. Help her let go of the guilt. Take it from her, please.

  He was praying.

  Begging God to help me let go. Over and over.

  Somewhere amongst my sobbing I started praying with him, and I couldn’t tell you when, or how, but a weight began to lift from my shoulders and for once I didn’t try to hold onto it, I let it go.

  We stayed there, a gutted heap on the floor, for who knows how long. Eventually we lay down, both of us spent and exhausted, neither of us caring we were on the hard floor. We didn’t talk. We barely moved. I felt wasted and weak, like a wet dishrag as Aunt Maggie used to say, but underneath it, I felt something else. Something I hadn’t felt in years – peace. It wasn’t overwhelming, it was quite small really, just a hush within me, but it was there, and I clung to it with every ounce of strength I had left.

  Twenty-four hours later and I still feel weak, but I also feel lighter for all of it, like someone opened the curtains covering my heart and chased the dark away. It’s still there, lurking at the edges, but I’m healing.

  I think I’m really and truly beginning to heal. Finally.

  Vicky had never pushed me where Lucas was concerned. I always took two steps back in my recovery every time she brought him up, so she stopped even though she told me I would never be able to move forward until I faced it and found a way to forgive myself.

  I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer. I know I will never stop grieving him, not ever. Or the hopes of what he could have been and the simple joy of being able to watch him grow and live life. But I think, mayb
e, I can learn to balance that grief and still live. I hope. I want to. I don’t believe God put me here only to suffer. I really don’t.

  There’s something deep within me that feels it and that piece of me still wants to live. It flickers like a tiny flame in the dark, keeping me from folding up and giving in.

  Every time Nik looks at me, holds my hand, hugs me, or kisses my head it grows brighter too. He can’t bring back what I’ve lost, he can’t replace them either, but I still think he’s what I need.

  As I stand here, looking back at my reflection, wet hair, pale skin, and dark circles, but clean – days of sadness washed away – I know he’s the balm to my battered soul.

  In him my heart found love again. And despite the darkness that has surrounded me this week, I haven’t been able to ignore his light. It’s what pushed me to step out of the cage surrounding my heart and throw away the keys so I can never be trapped there again.

  His light has saved me more than once. I’m counting on it healing me too. Starting tonight.

  STRAIGHT INTO YOUR ARMS

  ~

  Nik

  It’s taking everything in me not to get up and go to her. She promised she was fine, she just wanted to take a hot bath, but I can’t shake the fear that’s seized me. It’s only been a week since it all went to hell and while today has been her best day, I’m too afraid to trust it.

  She’s in there, alone, for the first time since I opened my damn mouth and caused the world to come crashing down around her. What if she was lying? What if I pushed her too far yesterday? What if she’s in there floating with no more air in her lungs because they’re filled with water? What if she’s on the floor in a pool of blood, or drifting into a sleep I won’t be able to wake her up from?

  Those thoughts have me frozen to this bed, too terrified to find out if my world might be over. I don’t know how she’s survived if her fears have been worse than mine are right now. I feel like I’m coming out of my skin.

  She’s far and away the bravest, strongest person I know.