Find Me in Manhattan (Finding #3) (22 page)

Sarah

Daddy was not a happy camper. He started to raise his voice, but Mama snapped his name like a whip lashing from her throat.

“She doesn’t need to be going anywhere,” he told her.

“You don’t have to speak to her that way, especially not right now.”

“Please, Daddy, I need to go. Something isn’t right,” I begged while clutching my head in an attempt to stop the pain.

“No. We’re packing, and you’re comin’ home. End of discussion.”

“What time is the flight?” I asked.

Mama looked at her watch. “Almost four hours from now. It was the earliest I could get at the last minute. Why?”

“I’ll meet you there in an hour. I promise.”

“No!” Daddy growled.

“Daddy!”

“I’ll go with her,” Seth appeared at my shoulder and offered. I gave Mama a pleading look, and I could see her caving.

“Please, Daddy. I need to see him.”

He looked up at the ceiling, and if I were to guess, he said a little prayer for patience when dealing with his baby girl. He had been saying that prayer my whole life. It had yet to work.

“You stay with her. Don’t let her out of your sight,” Daddy warned Seth. “Make sure she eats something. And for God’s sake, put on some clothes!” The last command was for me, obviously. Running around in New York in my bathrobe wouldn’t go over so well. Although, I would probably fit right in with the underworld, especially with my bruised face and matted wet hair.

I wasted no time in throwing my clothes on and forcing a knitted hat over my hair. I was not giving Daddy a chance to change his mind. After dragging Seth down the stairs to a cab, I relaxed enough to realize how badly my head hurt. I leaned against the seat and closed my eyes, willing the pain to disappear.

“I’m assuming the doctor told you to relax and avoid rigorous activity?”

“Shut it, Seth.” After a few quiet moments, I said the words that were pounding in my skull. “He didn’t fight this time.”

“I get it, little sister, but you need to take care of you first.”

“Hand me my purse.” He plopped my bag in my lap, and I felt blindly for the bottle of pills I threw in there on the way out of the apartment. Seth opened the little bottle for me and handed me the bottle of water he had brought with him.

“Better?”

“Sure. Instant relief. Now, shut the hell up.”

“Wow. I’m so glad I came with you. Remind me never to help you out of Daddy’s wrath again.”

My body sagged with guilt. “Sorry. I’m just…”

“It’s been a rough couple of days.”

“Yeah. I came back thinking everything was going to be great. Jameson was no longer a dark cloud over my head then wham! The storm hit again, destroying every good thing in its path.”

Michael

Drink.

Darkness.

Drink.

Darkness.

The black never comes.

Drink.

Remember.

Drink.

Remember.

The memories never fade.

Her leaving.

Her pain.

Her tears.

Her cry.

Her hair.

The blood.

The burning.

The fire.

The ringing.

The boom

Pounding.

Pounding.

Pounding.

Sarah

As soon as the cab slowed down, I told Seth to stay with the driver while I darted into the building. The doorman recognized me. “Miss Grant,” he greeted kindly. He was a good doorman. I couldn’t remember if his name was Carl or Carlton in my disheveled state, but he knew exactly who I was.

“Is he here?”

“Came in about an hour ago.”

“Thanks.” I rushed to the elevator and slammed my hand down on the button. I had to prop myself up on the wall because I felt dizzy and lightheaded. I saw spots, leaving me slightly blinded as I guided myself into the car by feeling the wall. The ride up didn’t really help anything, but my determination had always been a force to be reckoned with.

Once I reached his door, I tried to open it, but the lock prevented the knob from turning. I resorted to slapping my hand against the painted wood.

No answer.

More slapping.

“Michael!” I slapped harder until my hand stung. I hardly noticed.

The door finally flung open, causing me to fall forward into a hard body. Unfortunately, the hard body seemed to be just as unsteady as I was. Michael and I went tumbling to the floor where a glass shattered, and the only thing stopping my face from planting into the wood floors was Michael.

“You spilled my drink,” Michael slurred angrily then dragged himself off the floor using the wall for support.
Was he? Yes, yes he was
. Michael was drunk.

Michael stumbled to the kitchen where he proceeded to slam another tumbler onto the granite counter. He threw open the freezer door to grab some ice, but more of the ice was dropped on the counter than actually made it into the glass. He didn’t notice. Michael was too busy carelessly pouring an amber colored liquid (Whiskey? Bourbon? Scotch? What’s the difference?) into the glass to realize there was ice melting all over the otherwise pristine surface.

“Why’re you ‘ere?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”
But I can see that’s not an option.

“Just go. Go home with your parents. Go.” He raised his glass to me in salute of his stupid suggestion.

“I don’t want to leave.”

“You should.”

“Why’s that?”

“You should go if you know what’s good for you.” His menacing tone surprised me and had me stepping away from him. He had never spoken to me that way, but how long had I really known him? I was having Déjà vu.

As usual, though, I was stubborn and refused to believe Michael was anything like Jameson. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His newly filled glass went flying across the room, crashing into the wall. The dark amber liquid dripped down the wall where the glass had smashed, making me flinch. “Get out!” he yelled.

“No!” I yelled back forcing my head to scream in protest. “Not until you tell me what in the hell is going on!”

“You were lying on the floor bleeding! What do you mean? How do you not see what’s going on?” His voice was even louder this time, making the veins in his neck pop out in the most terrifying way.

I couldn’t take the yelling. My head hurt too badly to keep it up. “Why are you giving up?” I asked more quietly.

“Because I never should have given in at all. I knew it would end badly, and I let you in anyway.”

“End?” I started to panic. I didn’t want this to end. He was the one. I knew it. Lord knows, I had tried to feel this feeling before, but I had never loved someone so effortlessly. It just happened. Without permission, I fell for Michael. I fell for his rugged exterior and soft heart. I fell for the complicated man hidden beneath the gorgeous exterior. I fell for the lost soldier who still wanted to be a hero. I never second-guessed my feelings for him. I feared them, and now he was telling me it was over?

His jaw was tight, and his grip on the counter was frightening. “You need to leave. I don’t want you here.” I was sure he wasn’t thinking clearly. It was the alcohol talking, right?

I stepped around the island, moving closer to him. I watched his body tighten even more. I slid in the small space between his arms, so our bodies aligned but didn’t touch. Our noses were almost touching, but he refused to look at me. “Michael,” I carefully whispered. “Please don’t do this.” I carefully lifted my hands and slid them up his chest. As soon as my fingers made contact, his eyes squeezed shut. “Michael,” I whispered again. My arms crept around his neck, and he responded by dropping his head to my shoulder and pressing his face into my neck. “Please don’t do this,” I begged once more.

His arms wrapped tightly around me filling me with relief. Pain seared across my ribs from the bruising there while he breathed me in. My heart hurt with fear, and I could still feel the throbbing in my head. It was like I could feel my heart beating in every part of my body, but there was nothing, no pain or fear that could keep me from holding him.

“You have to leave,” he cried into my neck. He was shaking and silently sobbing. “You have to go home. It’s not safe for you here, and I can’t protect you.”

“Michael, no,” I pleaded. He held me close, keeping his face buried in my neck. I thought I had finally gotten through to him when he lifted me and started carrying me. I wrapped my weak legs around him and held onto him for dear life. I was sure my grip couldn’t get any tighter, but after one big breath, he easily pulled my arms from him and set me on the ground. The next thing I knew, his apartment door was slamming in my face.

He had locked me out. I pounded wildly on the door. I didn’t care if his neighbors heard and called the cops. I screamed and pounded and cried and kicked. I felt nothing except the fear of him letting me go.

Strong arms grabbed me and a soothing voice shushed me and whispered comforting words. “Come on, baby sister. We have to go. Leave him be.”

“No,” I sobbed harshly. “Please, no!”

“I’m sorry. Now’s not the time for this.”

I deflated and suddenly felt exhausted. Seth looked down at me with worried eyes, and I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. I pressed my face into his chest and nodded. He knew I was done, so he silently guided me out of the building.

From the airport, I sent Phil a text letting him know I was leaving and gave him some information I had wanted to share with Michael. Then I shut down. I couldn’t feel the pain in my head anymore because the pain inside consumed me.

Michael

I awoke with a raging headache and an insane need to visit the john. Based on the way I fumbled with my belt, I was still fully dressed, but I couldn’t figure out why. After taking care of business and stumbling out of my room, I found my way to the kitchen for a bottle of water. I was on my way to drinking all of it when I heard what sounded like a baby gurgle. I turned around to find Phil and Amy sitting at the table with the baby resting on Amy’s chest sleeping. I raised an eyebrow in greeting. This was not a friendly visit judging by the disappointment written all over Phil’s face. Amy wouldn’t even look at me, but I wasn’t really sure why.

Then it all hit me. Sarah. The hospital. Her dad. Coming home. Drinking. She came over. I told her to leave. The image of her through the peephole came back to me. She was screaming and crying and pounding on the door until I texted Seth. He couldn’t have been far away judging by how long it took him to get to her. I watched him take her away, and it felt like someone took my insides with her because all I felt was numb. Maybe it was the alcohol still in my system or maybe it was the fact that she took my heart with her, but I was sure I would never feel anything ever again.

“What are you guys doing here?” I finally asked, breaking the silence between us.

“Sarah texted us on her way out of town. She was worried about you.”

“Yeah? Nothing to worry about. Go on home.”

“It’s not that easy, man.”

“No? You need me to call you a cab?” My words dripped with sarcasm and disdain. I didn’t want or need a lecture. I needed to go back to bed or to the gym or to the garage, anything other than think about what a fucked-up mess I was.

“It’s time to get help,” Phil announced. “You can’t live like this anymore, and I think you have enough to lose this time that you might want to get help.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I lost her the second that fucker put his hands on her. I was an idiot to think we could have anything.”

“Michael, you can’t live like this.”

“Yes, I can.” There was no point in doing anything about it now. I wanted to be a better man for Sarah, but she was gone. I didn’t see any reason to get rid of the only companions I had left—fear, anger, and darkness.

“Please, Michael,” Amy cried. “This angry man you’ve become isn’t you. If anything, being with Sarah should have shown you that. She showed you that you are capable of so much more. Be the man you’re supposed to be, not the man you are. Be the hero.” I didn’t have anything to say to her, so I stood silently leaning against the island in my kitchen.

“If you decide you’re ready, Sarah left a name. She said he’s a radical therapist. He does extreme exposure therapy on a ranch somewhere in Texas. I looked him up. It’s nothing like what they offer at the VA. She sent him your name and said all you have to do is call. She left it up to you with one warning.”

“What’s that?”

“She said, ‘Only the strong survive.’ I don’t think she was referring to the therapy, Mike.”

I didn’t either.

Phil and Amy left shortly thereafter, leaving me to my thoughts. Moretti called to check on me and let me know what Lana had told him about Sarah’s parents. I only half listened. I didn’t want to know how it all went down. All I heard was that they packed up every last belonging of hers, and her mother contacted the school to withdraw her. She found out everything she would need to know to transfer her to a different school. They made sure she would have no reason to come back to New York. That was all I needed to know. Sarah was gone, and I let her go. No. I pushed her away.

At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. I wanted her safe and happy. I could never keep her safe, and I could certainly never make her happy.

I wanted to be that man Phil and Amy believed I was. I really did. I wanted to deserve a life with Sarah, but you know why Cinderella always wanted the prince instead of a big, strong knight? Because the knights were fucked up in the head after seeing too much shit. No princess ever went for the hero. They go for the guy on the throne, and Sarah was a princess. Hell, she was a queen. She deserved to be worshiped but not by a guy like me.

I glanced down at the paper Phil left for me. His messy handwriting had left me a name and a phone number. Dr. Simon Reed. With an angry growl, I swiped the paper from the table and crumpled it up before dropping it in the trash. Therapy was for pussies.

Knowing my internal clock was off from staying awake for almost two days, I had no idea what time it was. I checked the time on the stove only to find it was heading into evening. I dressed in some jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed my keys, and headed for the bar. There was one on my block that usually had a pretty decent happy hour crowd, which meant single women looking for a good time. I parked my ass on a stool at the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked quickly. He was a short guy with gelled hair and black eyes. He had no time for me because I lacked the sexual orientation or genitals that earned him big tips.

“Johnny Walker.”

He poured my drink and thanked me only to turn and smile widely at the group of ladies at the end of the bar. Unfortunately for him, one of the girls already had her sights set on someone else. Me.

I raised my glass to her, eliciting a flirtatious smile from her. She was pretty. Dark hair, dark eyes, green shirt that showed a lot of cleavage. She would do for what I needed. I let her approach me because they always did. She didn’t let me down.

“Rough day?” she asked with a deep, sultry voice.

“You could say that.”

“How about you buy me a drink, and I’ll see what I can do about making your day better.” Her suggestion was casual but loaded with sexual innuendo.

I waved gelled hair back over and let green shirt girl order her drink. Vodka martini. Typical. After a couple of martinis, and we could say a
few
Johnny Walkers, I knew all about this girl. She grew up in Jersey, worked for Victoria’s Secret’s corporate office as an assistant, and loved the perks of her job because, and I quote, “lingerie is a passion” of hers.
Seriously
.

It didn’t matter. I just wanted to get laid and forget about a perfect blonde who had a higher, sweeter voice with a Southern accent that could melt sugar. My girl wouldn’t be caught dead showing that much cleavage in public. She made me fall for her the first day I met her just by existing, not by giving me her life story. Everything about green shirt girl was the opposite of Sarah, and that was just what I needed.

“Want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.” She smiled like I had just given her a pony. She was all wrong, but that was what made her so right.

I led her out of the bar and, against my better judgment, took her to my apartment. She kissed me in the elevator. It was all tongue and sloppy and… I couldn’t do it. I hated this guy, so I pushed her away from me.

“What’s wrong?”

“This was a mistake. Sorry. I’ll pay for your cab, but you’re not coming in.”

She stepped closer and ran her hand down the front of my pants. “I can make you forget the girl who is doing this to you. I promise.”

“I’m sure you would try really hard to do just that, but this isn’t going to happen.” I wasn’t even sure I wanted to forget her. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

The elevator doors opened on my floor. I slipped some money out of my wallet and hit the button for the lobby before sliding out of the metal box. When the door closed with her inside, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I knew my head wasn’t in the right place. Even in my slightly drunken fog, I knew I needed help if I was ever going to be the kind of man I wanted to be—for me and for Sarah. I stumbled back into my apartment and dug the number out of the trash. I swore to myself that I would call tomorrow when I woke up, without all the alcohol flowing through my veins.

Sarah

I kept asking myself why I always found myself in these situations with men. I wanted to know why a man couldn’t love me enough to stay with me.
Did I expect too much?
Then, on the way home from the airport, we passed the Baptist church. The sign out front said, “There are some questions that can’t be answered by Google.” I was sure that no one inside that church could answer my questions either.

The first week at home was the worst. My head hurt all the time. My body ached. My heart was broken. All I could do was sleep or lay there thinking about Michael. I replayed every moment in my head until I finally understood why he pushed me away. It broke me a little more to know there was nothing I could do to fix the situation, though. Until he was in a better place, he would never be able to fight for a relationship with me or anyone else.

After the text on the way to the airport, I didn’t contact Phil or Amy again. I didn’t really speak to anyone that first week, not even Mama or Daddy. Seth stayed home for a couple of days, but after he had left, I let myself fall apart in the privacy of my childhood bedroom. Showers were forgotten. My teeth went unbrushed. My hair was now a matted mess from not being able to brush it—not that I would have, anyway. For the first time in my life, I had given up. I think it scared Mama. I should have known something like this was coming, but when I woke up one day to a very pregnant Maggie sitting on my bed with me, I knew that Mama had called her.

I opened my eyes to see her big belly next to me. I knew right away who it was, so I gently pulled my hand from under my covers and placed it on her belly. A limb of some sort rolled against my hand to let me know she felt me, too. When I peeked up at my friend’s face, she was smiling sweetly with moisture in her eyes.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.”

We sat in silence for a bit with my hand on her belly feeling the baby move around a bit. This one was going to be trouble if she was already moving this much. With my best friend resting her hand on mine, I was reminded of the hell she went through before finding her heaven. Part of me still had hope that I would one day be able to say that about myself. The hell part was true, but what about heaven? A small part of me still hoped heaven was in my future. It was just a very small part buried deep in the fiery pits right then.

While I was wallowing in self-pity and feeling the little monster moving inside Maggie’s belly, the door to my bedroom burst open revealing my two aunts followed by Mama. “Lord, have mercy. We have to get started right now, girls,” Aunt Rose announced. “Bless your heart. Here, I brought you breakfast.” She shoved a tray in my lap as I awkwardly sat up in my bed.

“Oh, God. It’s worse than I thought,” Aunt Linda cried.

“What’s worse than you thought?”

“Your hair, child! It’s…oh, my… I just…oh, dear. Let me get some tools.” She went running from the room while Mama just leaned against the door with a satisfied smile on her face.

“Eat!” Aunt Rose commanded.

“What’s going on?”

Maggie smiled mischievously. “Well, the Sarah Grant I know doesn’t lock herself up in her bedroom and forget to shower for days at a time. I believe she was the one who whipped out the curling iron on day one and insisted we make ourselves pretty for the hot boys. And a little pain never held her back, so we’re here to get our girl back.”

“Speaking of hot boys, I’m surprised Parker let you come.”

“He’s downstairs,” she told me with an eye roll.

“Ah.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay. Here we go,” Aunt Linda sang as she dragged a huge black make-up case and a large duffel into the room. “We’re gonna make you good as new.”

“After she eats!”

Strangely enough, the flurry of activity helped pull me out of my funk. My mini-depression ended with a careful haircut, manicure, pedicure, and a whole lot of my favorite foods. My mom, aunts, and best friend knew exactly what I needed, and afterward, I felt renewed and functional until I saw Maggie leave with Parker. They climbed into their SUV and drove away, reminding me that I would never have that with Michael.

Defeat burned my eyes and threatened to ruin Aunt Linda’s hard work. I had no one to blame but myself. Had I been more careful with my heart, I would have never broken it. I let a tear drop from each eye when I realized the only hope I had left was that this pain wouldn’t last forever.

I went back to bed. At least I was clean this time.