Inflame (Explosive) (30 page)

A
FTER SLAMMING
the door to my house shut, I stalk towards the kitchen and grab the bourbon out of my freezer. I spent the whole cab ride home psyching myself up for what I’m about to do, but as soon as the driver pulled into my driveway I started having heart palpitations and the anxiety started to creep in like a slow, thick fog that was choking the life out of me. I knew I’d need more booze to get through this, and that’s the first thing I went for.

Without bothering to grab a glass, I drink straight from the bottle, enjoying the deep burn with every single gulp. I count slowly—
one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three…
—and so on until I hit five. Only then do I pull the bottle away from my lips, not even caring when the amber liquid dribbles down my chin. Unceremoniously, I wipe it away with my sleeve before pressing my forehead against the refrigerator and allowing the liquor to course through my veins, to give me a false sense of security, of relief, if only for a moment. Sighing, I know I need to get this over with, and I turn as I open and close my fists, pumping myself up much like I do whenever I’m about to get in the ring. I could use the extra adrenaline right now, but instead, I’ll just have to settle for the alcohol.

As I move to leave the kitchen, my eyes sweep over to the counter. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an envelope propped up against the microwave, and it has my name on it in what I recognize as Lucy’s handwriting. Walking towards it, I can feel my hands shaking nervously, and I have no idea why. It’s probably just some cute note like the other ones she likes to leave if we’re going to be apart for the night, and a part of me smiles at the thought.

I’m not sure when Lucy placed it there because I know I sure as hell didn’t see it before I dropped her off at Charlie and Knox’s place. Somehow she must’ve slipped back in and left it, and suddenly, I’m wishing she were here with me so I don’t have to do this alone. At the same time, I’m still not ready to go there with her, and I don’t want her to see me like this. Yeah, I need to do this on my own. I owe it to myself, to her. I have no idea how I’m going to let the past go, but I have to at least try.

With trembling hands and a racing heart, I pick up the envelope and turn it over, using my thumb to rip it open. I pull out a note, and I smile, knowing I was right. But as soon as I read the words, the smile falls, and my heart feels like it's being ripped in two.

Hey baby,

You’re probably out havin’ the time of your life with the guys right now while I’m being forced to listen to how hot the honeymoon was or whatever latest dirty escapade Charlie and Knox have partaken in. Have I told you that I hate his car? Seriously. Those two make me gag, and while I love my girls, I’m sure at this point in the night I’m wishing I’m wherever you are. Especially since I have to deal with them sober. It’s a cruel, cruel universe. But for Sprout, I guess I’ll put up with it.

Anyways, I just wanted to leave you a quick note to let you know I’ll be thinking about you. I wish we’d have gotten more time to revel in the events from this afternoon, but this is just the beginning, right? I wish I could explain in words what I felt the moment I heard that heartbeat, the second I saw our baby on that screen, but there’s not a word in the dictionary to properly describe just how momentous it was, just how extraordinary and breathtaking it felt. And you know, I think you get it. I saw the look on your face, Kale Montgomery, and if that wasn’t love personified, then I don’t know what is.

I just want you to know, Kale, that I’m happy it’s you. It’s always been you, even when I didn’t want to admit it. You know I’m crazy about you, don’t you? ‘Cause I am, and I’m looking forward to this new journey. And that question you keep asking me? Ask me again and maybe, just maybe, my answer’s changed.

That’s all. Hey, I even got through writing this with no tears. That’s definite score on the hormone front, right? I left you a little something else in the envelope. A first of many, I hope.

Love,

Lucy

Setting her letter aside, I brace my hands against the counter. I can’t handle sweet Lucy right now. Everything she said was everything I felt, and I know I need to revisit with happened with Tara before I can finally move on completely. Without thinking, I let out a deep breath then retrieve the envelope to see what she left inside. The second I pull it out, I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut harder than anyone in the ring has ever punched me before. Breath escapes me, and the palpitations in my heart increase tenfold. I knew this was coming, but I’m completely unprepared for it, especially with what I was hoping to accomplish tonight. In a split second, things just went from fucked up to ‘I have no idea how I’m going to get through this unscarred.’ Or at least without new ones, because Lord knows there’s plenty on my heart already.

In my hand is a photograph. I blink twice and allow it to come into focus. It’s the same image from the doctor’s office of Sprout relaxing like he doesn’t have a care in the womb, and my knees almost buckle at the sight of it. The pain rushes back through me, and I have to keep my grip on the counter to remain upright. The last time I saw a sonogram…

I can’t. I can’t do this, but part of me knows I have to. Leaning across the counter, I grab the bottle. Pressing it to my lips, I down what I hope is more than enough liquor to numb the pain, to numb my feelings, but in the end, I find myself on the tile floor with both the bottle and the sonogram clutched to my chest with involuntary tears streaming down my face. I could waste my time feeling like a pussy, but in this moment, I feel broken, and all over again, I’m mourning the loss of someone I’ll never get the chance to know. They say that crying’s for the brokenhearted, and while I should be overjoyed right now, my conflicting emotions are wreaking havoc on my heart and I’m about two seconds away from a breakdown.

Knowing that I need to get this over with, I pick myself up off the floor and stumble towards my bedroom, leaning against the wall for support. I walk into my closet and dig to the deepest depths until I feel the box that I’ve avoided for years but have never been able to get rid of. Somehow I gather up the courage to retrieve it, and I quickly deposit it on my bed, almost as if I can’t stand to have my hands on it for fear of being burned. My eyes study the small blue box momentarily and then close, unable to stand the sight of it.

I can’t do this.
My brain is screaming at me as ten years of pain, anguish, and despair surround my heart and squeeze as if it’s trying to rid myself of any other emotion. I try to beat it back, to fight it off, but it’s an uphill battle, one that I’m terrified I’m about to lose. Exhaling deeply, I open my eyes and bring the sonogram up to my face, studying it closely. I try to remember Lucy’s words.
I’m glad it’s you.
That coupled with the image of Sprout in my hand gives me a little bit of strength I need to move on.

Swooping up the box, I take it out to the living room and I set it down on the coffee table along with the bottle of liquor. I lean back against the couch, staring at it, wondering if I can really do this. Before I can bring myself to open it, I stand up quickly and stagger towards the kitchen, where I protectively place the sonogram with Lucy’s note. This… This right here is my future, and I want it in a safe place while I exorcise the demons of my past.

When I settle back in on the couch, I stare at the box again, finally willing myself to open it, but only after I down a little more liquid courage. My brain’s beginning to swim, but I don’t care. It’s the only way I can bring myself to do this.

My fingers tremble as I lift the lid, and I hold my breath almost as if I’m expecting some magical genie to float out. If only. I could use a few wishes right about now. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and reach in, feeling the contents of the box blindly. My fingers come into contact with a soft material, and I open my eyes as I slowly lift a foreign yet familiar blue blanket out of the box. Closing my eyes once again, I bring the fabric to my face, inhaling the sweet baby powder scent Mom shook on it for good luck. Hot tears prick my eyes, and I have to set the blanket down to maintain my composure.

My hands are shaking as I reach in and begin to pull out items that have been locked away for nearly ten years in the box far from my mind, even further from my heart. I feel my fingers wrap around soft, plush material and I wince when I see the teddy bear I bought at the gift shop before heading home to see my family that fateful day all those years ago. The memory of my excitement at finding the stuffed animal with a t-shirt claiming that the baby’s dad is in the Army rushes through me, and even though the material has since faded, I’m finding that the pain has not, even though I haven’t allowed myself to feel it for the longest time.

As I remove various items, the memories come flooding back in, like some proverbial dam has broken, and instead of a trickling effect, they rush in my mind violently and relentlessly with overwhelming currents ready knock over even the strongest pillar. It isn’t that I’ve forgotten everything—I haven’t. But I pushed it down so far, and like I told Xavier, I threw myself into helping with Lily, into my career, and I did everything in my power to keep the pain from consuming me. And I was doing a pretty damn good job. Until now.

My breath catches at the small, black velvet box I never thought I’d see again. It’s a symbol of the best day of my life and a reminder of the worst. Dropping it on the coffee table, I stare at it, wondering why I ever wanted to keep it. I grab the bourbon and press the bottle to my lips, tipping my head back so that the cool liquid slides down my throat. The contrast of cold and warm makes my chest heavy, and my mind starts to get fuzzy as I set the bottle back down, satisfied that it’s doing its job to numb my pain.

Somehow I gather up the courage to pick up the box again, my thumb fingering the opening. Slowly, I slide the top up and it pops open. A small gold ring with a tiny solitaire diamond sits inside, so tiny I can barely see it in the dark. Picking it up, I pull it closer to my eyes and squint, almost laughing at the size of it. My foggy brain vaguely recalls the day I was in that pawn shop, a scared-as-hell but still-proud nineteen-year-old boy who thought he was ready to take on marriage, fatherhood. I close the box, shaking my head at what a fucking fool that boy was.

Sighing heavily, I set it aside and return to the memory box, scraping the bottom until I find the last item, more than ready to pack it all up and return it to the closet, never to be seen again. My hearts begins racing wildly when I pull out a sonogram, one that’s almost identical to the one in the kitchen, but when I blink twice and squint to look at the date, I see that it’s ten years past.

As much as I try to remain calm, this is the last straw, and I can’t do this. I just fucking can’t. A gut-wrenching sob tears through me, and I feel the impending breakdown coming on. The sonogram falls from my hands, fluttering down to the floor and out of my sight. Without thinking, I grab the blanket I discarded and lean back against the couch, bringing it up to my face again, that damn scent over taking over all other senses. Closing my eyes, I’m transported back ten years to what should’ve been one of the best days of my life, but instead, it was the end of everything I ever knew and everything I ever wanted.

October 2003

T
APPING MY
knee nervously, I’m waiting for the flight to land. I’ve been away for far too long and I’m so anxious to see my fiancée, Tara. I just spent the last couple of months getting my ass kicked in boot camp, and I can’t wait to give my loved ones hugs. I joined the Army specifically so I could provide for my growing family, and I can’t wait to finally settle down to be a husband and a father.

I try not to run to baggage claim, excited to see Tara, Mom, and my sisters. When I leave the concourse, Mom, Kalli, and Kaylie all greet me with big hugs, and I feel just like a hometown hero. They make a big fuss, not used to my clean-shaven hair and neat appearance. Mom leaves to go pull the car around, and I try to answer all of Kalli’s incessant questions. Suddenly I’m aware that something’s missing. Glancing around, I look for Tara but don’t see her anywhere.