Kiss Me If You Dare

28

In the glum bedroom, I cried a puddle all over Brad’s chest. “It’s not too late. It’s not too late. There can still be us. We’re together again, you’ll be back on your feet in no time.” I clung to him. We were together. God gave us back to each other. God would give him back his health.

“Austin,” Brad said, his voice rumbling beneath my ear. “Please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hands grabbed my arms, gently at first, then rough as I resisted.

“Time to go,” Austin said, his voice straining with effort.

“Let go of me. I’m not leaving.” I took Brad’s cheeks in my hands. “I’m not leaving.”

He closed his eyes and turned his head away.

“Brad. No. Don’t do this.”

Austin grabbed my wrists and wrenched them behind my back.

He lifted me off Brad’s body and pointed me toward the door. We stumbled through to the living room, his arms locked around my struggling wrists. He let go of one hand to open the main door. As soon as he did, I snapped my arm around and pushed against the doorframe. But I was no match for Austin’s strong upper body, and in seconds I was headed out the door. I flipped my legs up on the way through, barring passage. With a mighty backward shove, I landed on top of Austin in the middle of the floor. As he recovered, I jumped to my feet and ran back to Brad’s side. Behind me, I heard the tones of Austin dialing the phone.

“Brad. Look at me. Brad. Please.”

But he kept his eyes closed tight and his head turned. Safe from Austin as he spoke on the phone, I walked to the window and pulled the curtains back. Daylight flooded the room.

“Gosh, it’s stuffy in here.” I studied the window and found the latch that would have meant my safe escape earlier. I twisted it and pushed the window wide.

Frigid air blew in, bringing the bright scent of the holidays with it.

“That reminds me. Christmas Day, Sam’s dishing up a buffet. I’ll stop and get us a couple takeouts. If Austin’s going to be here, I can bring some for him too.”

Brad’s bedside table was covered with an assortment of over-the-counter meds, prescription bottles, and boxes of sterile pads. The trash bin next to the bed held a fresh liner. I scooped out the plastic sack, held it close to the table’s edge, and swiped the whole contents into it.

That got Brad’s attention.

“What are you doing?” His voice was panic-filled.

“Cleaning up. What a mess. Too many bottles.” I gave the top of the bag a twist and tucked the whole thing into the top dresser drawer. “That’s better,” I said, dusting the newly revealed wood with my sleeve. “Not quite so dreary in here anymore.”

A stiff knock sounded on the outer apartment door.

“She’s in the bedroom,” I heard Austin say.

I maneuvered to Brad’s side, not sure who would be walking through the door.

A man in uniform entered.

“Mike. How are you?” I asked, greeting Officer Segerstrom, Brad’s state cop buddy from his training camp days. I clung more tightly to Brad’s hand as if that would somehow keep me from being hauled off.

The officer sighed and looked between Brad and me. “Samantha filled me in with the details. Heard there’s a problem.”

“No problem here.” With my free hand, I pulled the light cotton blanket to Brad’s chin, folded it back, and smoothed the wrinkles.

Brad wouldn’t look at Mike, just kept staring at some point in the corner.

Mike cleared his throat. “It’s pretty tough to get in here for a visit. Tried a couple times myself.”

Brad stayed quiet.

I met Mike’s gaze. He looked as torn up as I felt. I hoped he’d have the courage to defy Austin and Brad and let me stay.

“How are things going for you, Mike?” I asked, buying time.

“Good. The baby’s a couple months old now. Sure is cute. Don’t know if you heard-his name is Brad Walter Segerstrom. Strong as an ox.”

A funny sound came out of Brad’s throat.

I looked at him. A tear ran down his cheek.

“Congratulations,” Brad said finally.

Unable to bear the sight, my eyes flew back to Mike. “That’s great news. We’re so happy for you and your wife.”

The officer nodded once in reply.

The room was silent for a moment. Then Austin spoke up from his place at the door. “How about it, Mr. Walters?”

Brad nodded his head.

“No.” I grabbed on to Brad again, covering the top of his body with mine.

“Tish. Miss Amble.” Officer Segerstrom spoke the words softly.

Still clinging to Brad, I glanced up at him.

He gave a gentle shake of his head and a shrug, as if to say “What’s the use?” and reached a hand toward me.

I held back, burying my face in Brad’s blanket, smelling him, hearing him, feeling his skin, his breathing, his heat.

“Tish. Go.”

Brad’s words crushed my heart. The sobbing started again, along with a headache that made me weaken my grip.

Officer Segerstrom’s gentle touch nudged me away from Brad. I resisted. How could I do otherwise?

“Brad. Don’t make me go. There’s no reason. How can it be bad for us to be together?”

“Not bad for us,” came his answer. “Bad for you. Go on. Get out of here. Live for both of us.”

“This is stupid. I’m not leaving.”

“Get out of my life. I don’t want you here. Don’t ever come here again.” Brad’s voice sounded ominous. “Get her out of here, Mike, and leave me alone. I just want to be left alone.”

“I don’t believe you,” I whispered.

His answer was a roar. “Get her away from me! Get her out of here. Get her out of here!”

I jumped back in fright. As soon as I let go of Brad, Officer Segerstrom locked me in an embrace. In moments we were out of the bedroom and through the living room. Once in the hallway, he dropped one arm, still guiding me by the shoulders toward the parking lot. Mrs. Callahan’s door was open and from the corner of my eye, I saw her watching my removal.

“Thanks, Mrs. C.,” I called on the way past. “It was worth a try.” My voice hitched.

By the time we got to the front door, Officer Segerstrom’s hold had loosened to a mere hand in the center of my back. He knew I wouldn’t run back in there to see Brad. I’d be an idiot not to take such a bold hint. The guy didn’t want me around. That was that. It was over between us. When he’d given up on life, he’d given up on us.

Officer Segerstrom must have recognized Puppa’s truck and led me that direction. At the driver’s side door, he put his hands on my shoulders, sympathetic.

“I’d heard he was doing bad, but I had no idea how far things had gone. Nobody gets past his doorman.” The officer gave a shrug. “I gave up trying awhile back.”

I gave a loud sniffle.

“Hey.” He squeezed my arms. “Have some dignity. You’re a beautiful woman with a full life ahead of you. Do yourself a favor. Get over him and get on with it. Try to forget what you saw in there. I know that’s not the Brad he wants us to remember.”

My lips drew down in a pained gash and I fought back more tears. Dignity. Pride. Did I really care about any of that stuff anymore? How about if I was just a humble nobody who fixed up old houses and visited her boyfriend at River’s Edge? That kind of life seemed like it should count as a decent one in God’s eyes. Why should I care what anyone else thought? Why should Brad?

The officer pulled the door open for me and I slid behind the wheel.

“Probably better if you left town,” he said. “They thought they had a conviction, but Majestic was acquitted. There’s a price on your head. Not to mention I’d have to arrest you, seeing as you’re no longer deceased. Don’t worry. I won’t file a report. Besides, I’m not sure killing that lowlife Drake Belmont counts as a crime, even though taking off that day in Brad’s SUV made you seem like the prime suspect.” His momentary smile gave way to a look of regret. “Take care of yourself.” He slammed the door closed.

Everything about me was numb as I put the vehicle in gear and drove from the lot. From the road, I looked back. Officer Segerstrom gave a salute. My throat tightened and I stared ahead, concentrating on the curves along the river. Was I really driving away from Brad again? Was I really allowing him to send me away for a second time? Some wild impulse made me want to turn back, but the urge passed and despair settled into my bones. How did you make someone love you? You could only be yourself… and they either loved you or they didn’t. Brad couldn’t love… not me, not himself, not God. Forcing him to love again would be like Sisyphus pushing a rock uphill only to have it roll back down moments before reaching the pinnacle-and then repeating the futile task over and over for eternity. Could I withstand a curse of those proportions? I couldn’t even handle peeling wallpaper for more than two days in a row.

I drove without even realizing where I was until I saw the sign for the lodge. I slowed, angling the truck down the driveway. Samantha could help. She’d understand. Maybe I hadn’t done things her way so far, but she must have some idea how we could get Brad turned around.