Almost Beautiful, page 22
Travis
I PACED THE FLOOR FOR an hour, checking my phone a hundred times, even though I knew it hadn’t rung because I’d been holding it.
Letting Abby go was the right thing to do but causing the kind of pain I saw in her eyes felt anything but right. She’d been mad at me before, but when she looked at me through the Camry’s window, it very closely resembled hate, and even though I’d prepared myself for it, Abby hating me forever terrified me.
Abby thought I’d been talking to Adam the whole time I was gone, but he’d been nervous so he said what he needed to say in thirty minutes and bounced. After that, I’d parked down the street from the apartment and sat there for hours, knowing I had a choice to make.
I thought about what prison would be like for her, that maybe she would end up hating me anyway and it would all be for nothing. Then I thought about letting her go, keeping her safe while I rotted in prison for a decade, hearing that she’d gotten married, had children, all but forgotten about us except for that one corner of her heart that couldn’t forgive me.
Just the thought of Abby falling in love with someone else after I was carted off to prison made me feel insane with rage, and it took everything I had not to down the pint of whiskey in the cupboard and go pick a fight. In the state I was in, I’d most definitely kill someone. There was no one I could talk to because I couldn’t tell anyone why I’d asked for a divorce.
Except for one person.
I said goodbye to Toto, grabbed my wallet and a jacket to stave off the rain, then locked the door behind me, hoping I’d either find Abby or she’d come home before me so I didn’t have to call maintenance to let me back in.
Walking the eleven or so miles to Finch’s apartment was going to take a few hours, so I zipped up my jacket and set out at a quick pace. Every mile or so I’d jogged to make up for lost time waiting at stop lights or dodging puddles and trucks splashing the sidewalk.
Two and a half hours in, I stopped at an all-night gas station for a bottle of water, chugged it, tossed it in the trash, then started again.
My conversation with Abby played over and over in my head as I walked. What I could’ve said different, better, but no matter how I changed it up, I knew it wouldn’t hurt her any less. I did what I promised I’d never do. Even if, one day, she understood, she’d never forgive me.
Still, it was better than knowing she was locked up somewhere during the best years of life, dealing with God-knows-what. Prison would change her, that light in her eyes would extinguish just like it did when she sat at a poker table in Vegas.
She’d get stuck in survival mode, and no one would ever get to see the side of her that hopes, that lets her poker face slip, that laughs a little too hard and smiles in her sleep. Abby deserved to keep the part of her that Vegas couldn’t touch, and the world deserved to experience it.
I sighed when I saw Finch’s apartment complex, but when I saw the Camry, I broke out into a sprint before I knew what I was doing. My eyes saw that all the lights were out, my brain knew it was nearly dawn, but my fist pounded on the door anyway.
As soon as the deep booms echoed against the adjacent buildings, I regretted it. The noise was alarmingly loud when everything else was quiet. Even the birds. Not even a fucking dog barked.
The memory of me banging on Abby’s dorm room door came flooding back and my eyes threatened to tear up for the tenth time that night. If I could make one wish, it would be to go back in time and not go to that fight. I might not have been married to Abby so soon, but at least I’d get to keep her.
To my surprise, it wasn’t Finch who opened the door, but my wife. Her eyes were swollen, mascara smeared, her hair ratted, and her clothes wrinkled. I’d never seen her look more beautiful in my life.
I wanted so badly to hold her, so I reached out, but paused, realizing she may not want me to touch her.
She looked down at my hands. “You’re soaked. You walked all the way here?”
I nodded.
“You didn’t know I was here … so you came to talk to Finch? Because he’s the only one you could talk to.”
“Abby …”
“It’s Abby now?” She nodded, indignant.
I winced. “I didn’t think it was fair to … I’m just trying to make this easier on you.”
“Well, you’re not. You can’t do this to me, Travis. You can’t pursue me and make promises … make me fall in love with you just to leave me.”
“Please don’t hate me.”
She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. “Hate you? I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my life. Ever. I don’t know that I’ve loved anyone except you, and I truly believe I’ll never feel this way again with someone else. I don’t want to. And after everything—the risks, the unknowns, the what ifs—I’m staying. I’m staying, Travis. You’re leaving me. If you do this, I’ll never give you the chance to hurt me like this again, do you understand that?”
“I …”
“I don’t think you do. You can’t. Because this isn’t a college break up. We made vows to each other. This is a whole marriage you’re ending.”
“Because …”
“There is no because. There is no reason that’s stronger than the promises we made.”
“You’ll be okay. I have to believe that. You’ll be okay, out here.”
“You don’t get it. This feels like death. It will change me. I won’t be the same person after this, and I’ll blame you for it. Maybe I will hate you then, because it won’t change me for the better. If you let me go now, you’ll have to let me go forever because the woman you love won’t exist anymore. I won’t be her. She’ll be gone.”
It took me a long time to speak, and even then, I could barely get the words out above a whisper. “You don’t know how sorry I am. I wish … I wish we could go back in time and somehow, some way not go to that fight. That’s the only thing that could fix this.”
“But we can’t.”
“I’ve tried to think of something, anything else, I swear to God. I hate myself for hurting you.”
“Don’t make me beg.”
It was what she said the first time we made love, and we were both acutely aware of the reference. Now, she was saying it for a completely different reason. I’d once said I’d rather cut off my own arm than hurt her. I felt like a piece of shit, a liar, a coward … she was stronger than me. She was proving it. “Pidge …”
She fell against me, wrapped her arms around my middle, and squeezed. “Because I will,” she cried. “I’ll beg you every day.”
On my long, wet walk, I’d imagined multiple scenarios for how Abby would react the next time I saw her. What was happening in that moment didn’t even make the top one hundred.
I held her while she cried, trying not to break down myself. I owed it to her to be strong and not force her to console me after what I’d done. And still, I didn’t know how else to protect her.
She said something, but it was too muffled for me to hear.
“What, Pidge?” I asked.
She looked up at me, the skin around her eyes red and wet. “I don’t want to cry the rest of my life.”
She looked like a little girl, innocent and lost. I couldn’t maintain a strong front after that, instead cupping her face with my hands and kissing her over and over. The wetness on her cheeks smeared against mine. I wanted to keep kissing her until the pain went away, but I knew that was impossible.
I touched my forehead to hers. “I don’t want you to, either. I want you to be happy, and free to live your life. I want you to be safe.”
“Then fight with me. See this through.”
“I can’t live with myself knowing I let you go to prison, Pigeon. I don’t want to do this, but letting you get sent to prison is so much worse.”
“We’ll do it together.”
“It’s too hard.”
“So is this!” she screamed. “Being apart is hard! Not being in control is hard! Worrying about someone is hard! Watching someone you love move on with someone new is hard! Having to explain to everyone why we’ve made the mistakes and choices we have is hard! Facing your fears is hard! Choose your fucking hard!”
She wept, her body shaking with each of her next words. “And you better choose me, Travis Carter. You better fucking choose me.”
Watching my wife fall apart in front of me, made any attempt at strength impossible. She was right. If the worst came, we could at least face it together.
I sucked in a breath. “Okay.” It was all I could manage.
“Okay?” she asked, obviously hesitant to trust me. That broke my heart all over again.
I nodded, and relief washed over her face. She nodded, too, her face crumbling. I pulled her against my chest, wrapping her in my arms, and she held me tight, whispering, “Don’t ever leave me again.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Abby asked.
I was sitting on the private beach of our hotel, staring out into the water of St. Thomas. I’d just renewed my vows to my wife and been handed the bomb of the century.
“Never,” I said, reaching out for her.
She sat next to me and held my hand, thankfully content to just sit in silence.
Shepley had been out there with me. Other than him, no one else had a clue that my world was crumbling. I hadn’t been able to speak. Too much in my own head about the future to even pretend things were normal. When Abby joined us on the beach, he stayed close.
I closed my eyes. Shepley knew something was bothering me, but he probably thought we were fighting and was sticking around to keep the peace and mediate like he always did. It killed me to keep this from him almost as much as it did to lie to Abby. They were my best friends, and I couldn’t tell them. I couldn’t tell anyone.
I looked down the beach to where my brothers began filtering from the hotel, either from their rooms or from brunch.
Tyler waved, and then tossed a football to Ellie.
What a fucking mess. Even if I could tell Abby the truth, it was too crazy to believe. What? I was going to casually explain to her what Thomas and his partner-slash-girlfriend, Liis, had just dropped on me—that my older brother, who we all thought was a fucking ad exec, was actually an FBI agent? And not just any agent. Oh no, he was the one in charge of my case.
That sounded made up as hell. Maybe it was a good thing that part of their terms for immunity was to keep it a secret from my wife that I was now a federal snitch.
She’d lock me in a padded room.
I held Abby’s hand to my mouth and kissed it.
She smiled at me. “We’re okay, right?”
“Better than okay.”
“You’re not thinking about divorcing me again, are you?”
“It’ll never happen again. No matter what. I panicked.”
Even worse, I thought. If Abby hadn’t spoken sense into me, Thomas and Liis would be having this conversation with me back home. Abby would have moved out of the apartment and been in Wichita. We’d have started the annulment, and I’d have realized, after speaking with Thomas, that it’d been all for nothing.
My immunity extended to Abby, but if she hadn’t helped me get my head out of my ass, she’d have been long gone and it would’ve been too late to get her back.
Out of everything, that bothered me the most.
“I know you did, but everything is okay now,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder. “Just checking because you’re not yourself. Wanna talk about it?”
I tried not to tense up, to keep my shoulders relaxed, because this was the first of many lies I would have to tell my wife.
“I’ve just been thinking about our future. About how bad I hurt you just a few days ago and how ashamed I am, because I know … I know everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to nail Brandon to the wall like you said, and we’re both going to move on with our lives, together. I can’t shake the horrible feeling it gives me to know I almost ruined it.”
She pressed her lips to my skin. “I wasn’t going to let you.”
“Thank God.”
“That wedding, though …” she said, her cheek against my shoulder.
“It was perfect. I’m glad we let America go a little crazy. It’s the way it should’ve been.”
“I wouldn’t change any of it.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope,” she said, looking up at me. “We couldn’t stop the fire, but here we are, a year later, more in love than ever … and, in paradise.”
“That wedding night, though,” I said with a grin.
“Think we can try that again?”
“What are you doing right now?”
Abby looked down the beach at our family, who were all in the middle of a friendly game of football. “Is it rude to leave them out here and not hang out?”
I frowned. “This is our honeymoon. They’ll understand.”
“Good point.” She stood, holding out her hands for me to take. “Then what I’m doing right now is you.”
I took her hands, stood, and looked up at the sky. “I love my wife!”
She led me by the hand back to our room, and I reminded her over and over—for hours—how much I loved her. That I meant to keep the promises I’d made, and that I’d never make her regret saving me. Not just the first time when we met, or the second time after the fire, but from myself when I almost made the worst mistake of my life by letting her go.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Last Bastion
Abby
LIKE THE YEAR BEFORE, SHEPLEY was road tripping it to Wichita. But unlike last time, he was making the trip alone—in severe weather, no less—to spend the weekend with America and her parents the last precious days of spring break. We’d all just gotten back from St. Thomas, but America wanted to make the trip back with Shepley, and he was determined to see his girlfriend smile.
America grew up in Tornado Alley, so she wasn’t nearly as nervous about gnarly clouds and thunder as I was. She knew what to do and would’ve passed on that knowledge to her boyfriend, so if something did happen, of all people, I should be the least worried about Shep. But still … there I sat, glued to my weather app.
Instead of calling Travis, I called America … again.
“Have you heard from him?”
America laughed. “It’s light rain, Abby. The last time we talked, his windshield wipers were on low and they were squeaking over the glass. It’s nothing. I promise, we’re keeping an eye on it.”
“But Mare … it’s calling for hail.”
“I think you have some PTSD from that tornado our senior year. It didn’t even come close,” she said, sounding distracted.
“But we … we saw it. It was huge.” My mind traveled back to that day. It was nightmare fuel, standing on Mark and Pam’s porch, watching a monster fall out of the sky. The funnel wasn’t black like you see in the movies, it was white against the dark blue sky, moving slowly across the horizon, devouring everything in its path. That tornado was the most frightening thing I’d ever seen—until the fire in the basement of Keaton Hall. “There’s a tornado watch in the exact area he’s traveling, and it doesn’t end until after he gets there.”
“The tornado you saw didn’t do much damage, though. It was outside of town, hit a few old barns. No fatalities. Plenty of warning. Listen to me. I promise. I promise he’s paying attention. My parents are, too. No wall clouds, no bubble clouds, we’re fine.”
I smiled. “Doesn’t your dad call those clouds cow balls?”
“Technically they’d be bull’s balls, but I’m not going to correct my dad.”
I laughed. “Yeah, don’t do that. He’s the guy who sits outside on a lawn chair and drinks beer to watch the weather come in.”
“He does not!” America said. She tried to sound offended, but she was still laughing. “You’re freaking out more than his own mother. Take a shot and lie down.”
She was in a good mood, happy to see Shepley in a few hours.
Her parents were so worried a serious boyfriend would distract her, and, while they weren’t wrong, Shepley was good for America. He kept her grounded, he truly cared about her and treated her like a queen. If Mark and Pam got even a glimpse of that, they’d probably ease off their daughter about her relationship, especially after Travis and I eloped. They were on high alert and driving her insane about how much time she was spending with Shepley. They almost didn’t let him come, but it saved them the trip of taking her back to Eakins.
“I’m not doing this next summer,” America said, determined. “We’re making this trip together to visit my parents instead of visiting each other. Mark better mark my words.”
“Okay, keep me updated and be safe,” I said.
She hung up, and I sat on the sofa, petting Toto. He was sleeping in my lap, his rib cage moving up and down in a relaxing rhythm. I’d won the battle with the small-time journalists and then Travis, but something else was bothering me—even worse—I didn’t know what it was. The not knowing was consuming my days, and I was finding other tangible things to worry about, like Shepley driving into a storm.
My fingers froze mid-stroke across Toto’s wiry hair when a soft knock tapped on the door. I set him to the side, waking him. He walked with me, waiting at my feet while I looked out the peephole.
“Shit,” I whispered.
Brandon knocked again. “Abby? Can we talk for a sec? It’s important. It’s about Travis.”
“He’s not home, Brandon. Call him.”
He smiled and looked down. “I know he’s not home. That’s why I came by. I’m worried about him.”
My heart began to race. I was almost certain he was there to get information, and I promised my husband I wouldn’t let Brandon inside the apartment while alone. But if I didn’t talk to him, would it make him do something worse?
I opened the door and stepped outside, closing it behind me.
Brandon looked absurd. His hair was gelled four inches off his head, and he was wearing a royal blue quilted blazer, a cheap-looking turquoise V-neck T-shirt, tight jeans that were rolled up at the bottom, no socks, and the best part: matching royal blue quilted loafers.
