Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

She cried like a pathetic child until her pain had turned to anger. When he suddenly walked through the bedroom door, he gave her anger an outlet he likely hadn’t bargained for. She stood, the tears still sitting on her lower rims and more streaked and drying on her cheeks. He glanced at her, and his brow flinched in what looked like pain for a moment. It couldn’t possibly be, seeing as he’d left his bed this way for her to see. He walked casually to his dresser, grabbing his wallet that he’d obviously forgotten, and by the time he turned back around to leave, her face was a scrunched-up snarl of fury.

“Good morning, Bailey.” He spoke casually as though she wasn’t standing in front of him with tear-streaked cheeks. His expression was cool and calm, though there was no escaping the tension in his jaw.

“Fuck you.” She was seething as she spoke through her snarling mouth.

“No, I don’t think so.” His voice was taunting, and he walked casually by her toward the bedroom door. “Wash the bedding, please.” To say those words hurt was an understatement. They stabbed so hard she had to force her throat to relax enough to get air, but then the fury hit again, and she regrouped. This man was not going to destroy her.

“I want to play a game.” Her voice was lower than normal. Her head was only lifted high enough to keep her eyes on him. She looked like a ravenous animal ready to attack; more than that, she felt like a ravenous animal ready to attack. He rounded toward her, still expressionless.

“Still think I owe you some words, do you?”

“I don’t give a fuck about your words, but I’ll be damned if I don’t share mine.” She was practically spitting as she spoke, and when she took a step toward him, she shared the only thing she had left to give. “Utterly cruel. . .” She took another step. He watched her with an almost amused expression on his face, but he couldn’t control the tension in his jaw, and it gave him away. “Hateful.” Another step, and she watched as the tension spread to his neck. “Pathetic.” Another step, and now she could see his jaw clenching and releasing over and over. His nostrils flared, and the muscles of his neck were strained so hard she thought they might snap. His face was still cold and completely controlled, but he was losing it, and she didn’t need him to say a word to see it. “Hollow.” She was standing right in front of him now, peering up into his now livid dark and dangerous eyes. “Dead.”

“I hate you.” He looked like he could barely speak through his gritted teeth and tight jaw. She wasn’t offended by his words. She’d already hit her offense limit for the morning, and he was only saying it because she’d won.

“Well, then, you and I have something in common.” His brow flinched in confusion before he could stop the reaction. “We’ve both been on the receiving end of your hate. Whadya say? I’ll forgive myself if you forgive yourself. Dare ya.” He stared at her. He was panting, and his eyes glossed as he looked at her. He swallowed over what looked like a golf ball he couldn’t get down, and then his breath left him in a pained rush.

He turned from her and walked away, saying nothing. She’d gotten to him, there was no question. But he’d not given in. His defenses were locked in place, and after she heard him drive away, she crumpled to the floor and sobbed again. The entire encounter had exhausted her, and she ended up falling asleep on his bed for an hour before she finally climbed up, stripped the bedding, and tossed it in the wash.

She called Michelle and gave her the blow-by-blow while Michelle locked herself in her office. She occasionally hollered to some unknown interruption that she was on an important business phone call and to leave her alone.

“Girl, you have got balls as big as the state fair grand champion-winning bull or pig bull or the pig equivalent to a bull or whatever . . . That was a fail, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was a fail. But I saw the largest bull exhibit once, and them are some big ass balls. So, I got the meaning, and I’ll take that as a compliment.” Her tension was finally melting to some degree. She was hurt. More than hurt, but she’d stuck up for herself, and God, she needed that.

“Listen, I gotta go. Apparently the business stops running when I lock myself in my office for an hour. Oh, hey, we have a cashier spot opening up soon. It’s yours if you want it.”

“Oh, Michelle. I’ll think about it, but honestly, I think I would hate working for you.” She was actually a bit serious when she said it because in truth, she didn’t want any strains on the only friendship she had. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t think about it. But then, she was starting to think about Memphis too. She hadn’t agreed to stick around so she could be emotionally tortured by him, and promise or not, after the night before and the morning she’d had, she didn’t feel like she owed him much of anything.

“Okay. Don’t forget about the Summer Kick-Off Festival this Friday. We’re going.”

“Tell me again why we celebrate a completely made-up holiday in the middle of June by setting off fireworks three weeks before the Fourth of July?”

“Surplus in the budget? I don’t know.”

“I’ll see you then.”

She took Macy for a long run that afternoon. She pushed through more miles than she likely had any business going, and when she got back, she fed Macy and left for the day. There was no way in hell she’d be sticking around to see him today. There was actually no way in hell she’d be putting herself in his path at all anymore. She really wanted to reach him, soften him, see if there was any way he could ever forgive her. But she was giving up, and that was a sad thing to admit.

“Jess, your brother is one stubborn, stubborn man.” She spoke to the quietness around her as she sat on her steps after arriving home, and in her mind she saw Jess smirking at her. It was the same smirk Darren had.

I think Dare has a crush on you. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.

She could still see Jess’ smiling face looking at her from the passenger seat of Darren’s car. She could hear her voice too, just like it was yesterday. Yes, Darren had a crush on her once. But that was gone. It simply didn’t exist anymore—not the chance of it, not the hope of it. It was just a memory, just like Jess’ sweet, smiling, always mischievous face.

There was no denying he was looking for her. He’d run into Michelle, and she’d given away their plans for Friday night, though when she realized it, she quickly tried to backpedal and then resorted to threatening him to stay away from Bailey. Nice to see she had one friend who cared about her. He was stopped constantly by townsfolk to chat. He was used to it.

He’d been upset with Bailey when she’d verbally kicked his ass all the way across his bedroom. He’d been livid for half the day, and he’d used that emotion to plunge headlong into his work. He was good at functioning through misery. In fact, he became a rock star professionally when his personal life was turning to shit. He’d just learned to use his work as a coping method. But that night when he’d gotten home, there was nothing left to pacify him.

He’d nearly gone to her place to talk to her. Nearly. He’d never struggled so much in his life to get out of his own way. He was so pathetically conflicted when it came to her—so much so that he couldn’t ever keep his feet going in a straight line. One second, he wanted her so powerfully he was ready to forget every awful thought and feeling that passed through his mind. The next moment something happened, and he wanted to unleash his anger on her. He was all over the place with her emotionally, but in truth, he was only really happy when he decided to stow the anger and pain for a while and just let them be. He just couldn’t seem to maintain that mindset.

It was now days later, and he didn’t simply want to see her, he needed to see her. She’d said nothing wrong to him at all, and when she rattled off her words, every last one was true. He had no idea what he wanted to say to her now, but something needed to be said, and he was tired of feeling anxious, waiting until he could see her.

He moved through the throngs of blankets spread out on the high school football field. Everyone was getting ready for the fireworks show. They were the only town in the world that set off fireworks in mid-June, but hey, who didn’t love fireworks. He finally found them sitting with their legs stretched out in front of them on a large blanket. He watched her as he approached from a distance. She was stared at constantly by everyone around her, and he couldn’t imagine what it must be like for her—always being the center of attention for all the wrong reasons.

When he approached, she looked at him, and her lips parted. Michelle eyed him venomously and cussed under her breath.

“I need to talk to you.” She just stared up at him. She didn’t look at all interested in coming with him. He crouched down to her level at her feet and tried again. “Please.”

She looked to Michelle for a moment, and Michelle cocked her head to the side. She was definitely not on his side. Bailey finally nodded, but her face remained leery. He stood and offered her a hand. As fate would have it, Veronica spotted him from fifty or so odd feet away, and she instantly hollered and waved to him. He had no intention of going to see her, but he didn’t need to. Within moments, she was by his side, only just then taking in his company.

Bailey was suddenly rigid at his side, and when he glanced to her, she looked like she was in hell.

Veronica took in Bailey and sneered. “Oh . . . you’re that girl I fired. Betsy, or whatever your name is.”