Chapter Eleven
Now
“I saw Bailey.” He blurted it out at the dinner table a few weeks later. It was their routine to have Sunday dinner together either at his parents’ home thirty minutes outside Savoy or in Savoy at their favorite little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Harry and Sally’s. All Darren ever thought of was Meg Ryan orgasming at the dinner table, and he’d never quite figured out why the Harry and Sally didn’t understand why it might be just a bit inappropriate to name their restaurant in such a way. But Harry didn’t even seem capable of exciting Sally, and frankly, Sally made good grits.
His mom dropped her fork, and his dad just held his breath; the vast majority of the other patrons in the quaint little restaurant stared for a moment at the loud clank of metal on porcelain, but then they returned to their own worlds, blessedly ignoring his. All Darren could think was, Thank God he hadn’t told them what he’d done on the floor of her fucking house. That would have earned him a hell of a lot more of a reaction than just that.
“Oh . . . well. . .” His mother, Jillian, didn’t have much more to say than that, and his father, Brent, said even less. They watched him, waiting for something more.
“A few times.”
His father cleared his throat. “So, when you called a few nights ago talking about that Attending position in Little Rock . . . I mean, is that why you’re suddenly so interested in talking to Arkansas Children’s Hospital? Didn’t they pursue you after medical school, and you rejected their offers because you wanted to be in Savoy?”
“I just think—”
“What about taking over my practice in a few years? Wasn’t that the plan?”
His father wasn’t being rude. He was just reminding Darren of the direction his life had been going until just a few weeks ago. But a few weeks ago had changed a lot of things in his mind. The first being how the hell he was going to survive his life in Savoy without going insane. The answer to that was he wasn’t. There was no chance he could keep seeing her and stay sane.
The ironic part of that conundrum was just how much he wanted to see her. It had been two and half weeks since he’d damn near fucked her brains out on the floor of her cottage before he could stop himself, and in that time, he’d not yet figured out exactly what the hell was wrong with his head. He’d fallen apart at her home. Or maybe he’d fallen apart earlier in the day at the parade when he’d come face-to-face with her. There was something about seeing her there, standing across the street staring at him. It was this bizarre reminder of just how interwoven their lives were. It might not have been the first time he’d seen her since she’d returned to Savoy, but it was the first time he’d truly understood that she wasn’t going away.
He’d almost choked seeing her in that damn T-shirt. It was like seeing his Bailey. The Bailey he wanted back. The Bailey who wasn’t responsible for drunk-driving his sister into an early grave. She’d been standing in his world again, merely watching a parade on the other side of the street from him. Her shoulders rubbed the shoulders of his people, in his world, in his existence. She wasn’t going away, and the hardest part of that was he didn’t want her to. He couldn’t handle that want. The want made him feel guilty, made him feel like a betrayal to his family. And the want felt good—good in a way he wasn’t used to anymore and that he no longer trusted.
When he felt good, it was usually followed by him waking up. It was about the only time he truly felt at peace anymore—when he was lost in dreams of a different world. Losing his sister and Bailey in one fell swoop had destroyed him, and even six years later, he was living a ghost life—unable to cope with the guilt, the anger, the utter confusion. Work was a good distraction. It was the tether that kept him anchored to his sanity, but he’d never found his happiness again, and he’d given up thinking he would—especially now.
“Things are different now. I just need—”
“Things have been different for years, Darren.” His mother’s voice was gentle, so perfectly gentle in the same way it had been at the hospital after the accident. Even through her own tears, she’d consoled him. None of it had mattered. He still felt guilty, he still blamed himself, and nothing his parents could say would change that. “Sometimes I feel as though I lost both my children that night. And I worry I’m never going to get you back.”
He didn’t respond. He simply looked out the window of the restaurant to the woods beyond. He’d expected resistance. Not because his parents wanted to keep him in Savoy forever, but because he knew they’d see down to the core of why he wanted to leave—better stated, why he wanted to run away. If they thought he was leaving for the right reasons, they’d support his decision, but they knew better.
“We’re meant to move past grief, Darren. Why do I feel like you’re the only one at this table who hasn’t managed that?” His father’s stern gaze met his as he looked back from the window.
He sighed, he shook his head slightly, and he gave up on the conversation. When he stood, his mother stood as well, and his father’s jaw tensed. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket, but his father stopped him before he could fork over any cash for his meal with a terse shake of his head. He was still their child after all, and he hadn’t managed to pay for a dinner check yet. You’re never truly an adult to your parents after all.
He kissed Jillian on the cheek and nodded to Brent before he left his meal half eaten on the table and walked silently from the restaurant as their eyes followed.
Macy greeted him with a wagging tail and a slobbering mouth when he walked through his door. He set her loose to run while he paced on his back deck. And when he finally called her back inside, he collapsed onto the couch and stared at the high ceiling above. He had an overnight shift that night, and he eventually closed his eyes, determined to sleep for a while before he had to leave for the hospital.
He let his mind move to Bailey. It was both intensely and instantly satisfying and painful at the same time. The moment he let himself see her face, his body shuddered with an electric wave of emotion. He drifted to sleep imagining her smile. It didn’t exist in this world any more than his own smile did, but he knew her smile so well. When he finally fell asleep, it didn’t last.
He woke groaning and almost threw up before he could get to the bathroom, thanks to the horrifying place his brain had taken him. The vision of her smiles had turned sour fast, and his dreams had ended with her tears and pleas. He’d been looking down at her as she’d sobbed and begged him to stop. He’d used his body to invade, intimidate, and hurt hers. He’d watched as though apart from himself as he raped and tormented her, cutting his fury loose to destroy her.
Her voice pleaded, and he’d pounded until he knew her pain was severe. He’d cursed her, practically spitting his hate in her face. He didn’t need to hit her. His violent thrusts as he pinned her to the ground were all the pain he needed to inflict on her. But then she’d spoken “I love you”, whispered between his penetrations as she cried. And that’s when his eyes had flown open, and he staggered to his bathroom to leave his lunch in his toilet. He gasped for breath as he flushed his face in cold water afterward.