Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

“It was different for you, Darren.”

“Why? I’m logical. I understand death. I get it. I can even rationally say that I’m not responsible for the decisions Bailey made that night. I know that were it my child in my shoes, I would never want them to blame themselves for what happened, or Bailey for that matter!” He was speaking passionately, emphatically. “I just. Want. Peace.” He was struggling.

His father finally spoke then, and it stilled them all. “Darren, your sister doesn’t want this for you. We don’t, either. But you have to make the decision to let it all go. And you have to let go of the notion that letting the guilt and pain go is letting Jess go. It isn’t. All you’re doing is disrespecting her memory. It’s not intentional, and I know beyond a doubt that she isn’t watching you with anger or regret but with love and hope for your future. It’s what she would want, it’s what your mother and I want for you, and it’s what you need. We can’t do this for you, Darren.” His face, always so stoic and hard, was just as fragile as Darren’s felt at the moment. He was a parent watching his child hurt himself and unable to fix it.

“Are you going to see her before she goes?”

“No. I’ve done enough damage. She needs to get away from me and stay away from me, because I’m afraid I’ll take us both down.” His mother nodded, and his father just watched him.

They said little else, and as he was leaving, his mother wrapped him in a tight hug. His father hugged him as well, a rare gesture for him. Fuck, life must surely be grim at the moment.

He took Macy for a run, and he walked up to the tall outcropping of rocks, staring out over the lake far below. It was so stunningly beautiful, and for a moment, he felt as though his life was a very small and insignificant thing. It wasn’t a depressing notion in the least, but a comfort. Death was just a small part of any person’s journey, and it wasn’t the end of the world, even if it felt that way. Perspective was within his grasp for a fleeting moment as his eyes took in the lush hills and the shimmering water. He wanted so much to hang on to it. That feeling that all was right in his world, Jess’ too for that matter. It was calming as it passed through him, and it stayed until he turned back to the path.

He walked down the trail, and his eyes caught on where Bailey must have lost her footing. There was a skid that ran off the trail, and the ground was scuffed and the foliage torn and trampled for a good twenty feet down the steep terrain. Panic hit for a half second as he imagined her falling, and he remembered just how panicked he’d been on that day when he’d realized she was missing. The same panic had hit like a shock blast to his body when he saw her standing hunched over on the trail, and the relief when he finally had his hands on her was the only thing that soothed that blinding fear.

That fear wasn’t something he knew outside his personal life. He was incapable, even, of feeling such strong and debilitating terror in his profession. He didn’t know why. It was just his perspective. His perspective that worked for everyone except those that mattered the most to him—his mother, his father, at one time Jess, and . . . her. She’d almost always been a part of his life, and from a time even before his feelings had turned intimate, he’d felt that way. He loved her as much as he loved anyone. Too fucking bad he was so incapable of forgiving her or forgetting about their pain.

He was panting when he reached his house, and he jumped in the shower, standing under cold water that shocked his skin into tight goose bumps. He collapsed on his bed after and stared. He must be losing his mind because he could nearly swear he could still smell her scent on his sheets. He was certain she’d changed the bedding sometime in the last few days, so it couldn’t possibly be true, but she was just surrounding him.

The need for her was so painfully strong, he groaned out loud at the emptiness. He had to let her go. But, God, it hurt.

She was done. Nothing left to do but wait for Michelle to come the next morning to take her to her new life. She cracked open a beer and plunked her tired and sweaty ass down on the couch. Her boxes were stacked by the door—very little really, but it had still taken time to sort all her stuff out and pack it neatly away. Her furniture would remain here, and Michelle still had enough time to get it into her garage sale.

She would be staying with her mother in her small two-bedroom apartment until she was ready and able to get out on her own. Her parole officer, Harold, had eyed her curiously when she’d told the poor man she wanted to move away to Memphis again, but he’d put the original jurisdiction transfer back into place.

She should get a good night’s sleep, but she really wasn’t sure that was even possible. Instead, she sat on her porch stairs drinking her beer, staring around her, and trying to ignore the sadness. She eventually grabbed another beer; it was her limit. She wasn’t at all an alcoholic, but she kept a tight rein on what she was willing to consume. Maybe it was respect, maybe it was fear, maybe it was just shame, but she didn’t cross her limit anymore.

She stripped out of her old, tattered jean shorts, leaving her T-shirt in place. She’d not left pajamas out, and the only clean clothes not packed were the shorts, tank top, and clean underwear she’d set out for the morning. There were only sheets on her bed, and she had a large empty duffle bag sitting beside her bed to toss her pillows and remaining bedding in the next morning. She’d shut the air off. The clouds were coming in, and it was going to cool down enough to have the house open once the rain hit.

She wandered around, looking for anything she’d forgotten, and when she was sure she’d removed every trace of her existence from the small cottage, she crawled into bed, watching the ceiling fan above her. Her eyes tried to follow the rotation, but she gave up after five minutes, letting herself get dizzy as she watched the whir of the blades.

And then there was a knock.

Her body lurched, and she sat nearly straight up as she heard it. There was a chance, outside at best, that it was Michelle. She wasn’t expecting Michelle until the next morning, and there was no reason to think she’d stop by. That really only left one other person that might pay her a visit, and that one other person left her heart racing. Her throat was suddenly dry, and she sat staring at the wall in front of her for a moment before she could get her legs to work.

By the time she made it to the front door, her fingers were trembling, and when she pulled the door open, she held her breath.

“Hi.”

She just stared. Her mouth was hanging open, and she knew she should close it, but she’d be damned if she could figure out how. She lifted her hand in greeting once she’d given up on her mouth. This wasn’t supposed to happen right now. Twelve hours until she was leaving. She couldn’t do this.

“I’d have called, but you already had your phone disconnected. If you don’t want to invite me in, I’ll understand.” Darren was watching her, and while he normally regarded her coolly and calmly, his expression wasn’t either of those things at the moment. He looked confused or maybe worried, but there was nothing cool about him.

“Why are you here?”

He instantly started chewing on the inside of his cheek, also not normally a reaction she associated with him. “I needed to see you. I thought I could do this . . . without seeing you . . . but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You promised you wouldn’t ask me to stay.”

“No . . . no. I won’t.” He was holding his hands up as though he was worried she’d toss him out on his ass. He actually hadn’t made any move to enter. He was just standing on her porch, waiting for something. She had no idea what to say, and so she just looked at him. She eventually got her feet to move, and she stepped away from the door, letting him pass.

He stood in her entryway, fidgeting for a moment. “I was thinking . . . Do you remember the time I ran into you at the library? We ended up going back to your dorm room to watch a movie. Your roommate was supposed to be gone for the evening, and neither of us felt like studying?”

Her lips pulled up slightly. She remembered it well. It was a night filled with nerves and arousal—just like most nights she spent with him. “Yeah. Basic Instinct. Should not have grabbed that movie.” She shook her head for a second at the memory.

“I’d seen the movie. I pretended I hadn’t because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to watch it, but . . . I had seen it.” She’d picked a movie that had a ridiculous amount of nudity, sexual situations, and all-out smuttasticness. She and Jess would have loved it, but with Darren beside her, she’d gotten humiliated quickly. “I knew it would embarrass you . . . among other things.” He looked at her mischievously. It had gotten to her, sitting beside him on her small love seat sofa in her dorm room, unable to put even a marginal amount of space between them as they watched one panty-melting scene after another. She’d shifted around uncomfortably next to him, and eventually, he started chuckling. “I spent the entire movie trying to decide if I wanted to hit on you or not.” He smiled. His tension was finally starting to ease, and hers was too. “I wanted to. And under the circumstances, alone, completely turned on—hell, even single, I really contemplated it.”

“So why didn’t you?”

He smiled. “Because your roommate came home.” She inhaled deeply. “That was the only thing that stopped me that night. It was always hard to keep my hands off you. And I was always tempted, but never so tempted as I was that night. I was decided. I was going to push our relationship to that place, and I was going to deal with the fall out.”