Adam, Enough Said (This Can't be Happening) Page 4

  He was the man that little ole freckle-faced, frizzy haired, redheaded me, somehow managed to snag at eighteen years old.

  He looked upset and I knew he still remembered, still felt pain. How could he not? But the pain was different for him. It had to be. The pain would never be the same for him as it was for me.

  He’d never wanted the baby anyway.

  “Of course you can live in this house every day, Adam. Because while I was in it, you weren’t. While I was pregnant, depressed, lonely and needing you, you were with another woman. While I was in the hospital miscarrying my baby, you were with another fucking woman. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to get back in the truck and take me home.”

  He flinched like I slapped him, and his eyes closed as though in physical pain. I felt bad for throwing the words in his face, but they were the truth and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything, especially Adam’s feelings.

  He’d never cared about mine.

  As his eyes remained closed, I assumed he saw my point and would take me home like I’d asked, but when his eyes opened they were filled with the last thing I wanted to see.

  Determination.

  Chapter Three

  Adam Bryant

  Thirty-One years old

  "Our baby," I corrected her, seething with concealed pain and anger. Mia narrowed her eyes on my face, but said nothing. She had to know I'd lose it if she tried to argue with me.

  It was both of us that miscarried, not just her. She wasn’t the only one who lost the baby; I’d just been too stupid to grieve about it the way I should have. And when it had finally hit me...when all of my mistakes had slapped me in the face at once and I’d set out to fix them, it’d been too late.

  What I'd done had been a mistake.

  One huge fuckin’ mistake that destroyed my life and it wasn’t even the mistake Mia thought I’d made. I’d made a lot of stupid mistakes in my life, especially when it came to Mia, but never…never would I have fucked up that bad.

  From the day I met her, I never even considered another woman.

  I’d told Mia what happened and I’d explained where I was and why, even if it meant I’d have lost my job, but she'd refused to believe me or even listen. I hadn’t blamed her. I couldn’t. I’d fucked up way before we miscarried, but I’d royally fucked up after.

  And I’d lost her.

  She might still be lost to me, but this time, with her right in front of me, looking at her and remembering how much I'd loved her and needed her, I made a decision. I wasn’t going to let her go until she understood. And it was going to be hard to make her listen, but if she left me no choice, I’d hog tie her little ass on my living room floor, duct tape her mouth shut, and force her to hear what I had to say until she understood.

  No, not only understood, but more importantly, forgave me.

  "This is exactly the kind of shit we gotta talk about, Mia, and we're talking inside the house."

  "No, this is exactly the reason I need to pretend you don't exist. I suggest you do the same," she snapped, but enough was enough.

  I reached across her lap, unbuckled her seatbelt, unwound it, grasped her hips, bent at the knees, put my elbow in her stomach and hefted her out of the truck against her protests and struggles.

  "Adam, put me down!" She pawed on my back like a feisty kitten.

  I climbed the steps to the porch, kept one arm around the back of her thighs, wrestled the keys from my pocket and unlocked the front door. I strode through the foyer and into the living room where I placed her on her feet, but I kept a hand on her waist so she wouldn't run.

  Though, I didn't have to. She was frozen.

  She glanced around the room, before looking up at me with tears in her eyes.

  "Why?" she asked in a strained whisper and I didn't respond, because honestly, I didn't know how to answer her. And really, what the hell was I gonna say?

  That every time I'd tried to get rid of the furniture and the memories, I broke down like a female and cried? That I'd cried like a fuckin’ female, remembering how Mia and my mom, the women who meant everything to me, picked out the furniture and the decorations together? That I'd shed tear after tear remembering how I couldn't have cared less when they'd both tried, excitedly, to show me what they'd bought?

  That I'd cried remembering how I'd tried to get Mia to take the stuff with her when she left me, because I knew she had nothing, but she refused? That looking at this furniture every day helped me realize what a fuck up I was?

  In the past, I'd have never admitted to anything so embarrassing, but now, I was man enough to realize the difference between embarrassing and real. How I'd felt and how hurt I'd been...had been real.

  But I wasn't about to come out and admit to anything just yet.

  When I still didn't answer after a few moments, Mia's voice grew louder and deepened when she asked again, "Why?"

  "I just…” I shook my head. “…I couldn't get rid of it," I answered truthfully without giving too much away, but I could see in her face that she wasn’t satisfied.

  "You couldn't get rid of it," she repeated low, her tone eerie. She looked lost as she glanced around the room once more, just before her sight landed, and stopped, on the mantel over the fireplace.

  "You couldn't get rid of it," she repeated again in a tortured whisper. She moved to back away and I let her waist go. She walked over to the mantel and headed straight for the framed picture of my mom.

  I stiffened.

  Her back was to me now, but she just stood there, gazing at the picture in wonder.

  "I loved your mom. She was my mom too. I was broken after she passed," she admitted softly and picked up the picture in her hands to study it closer, caressing it with her fingers, but her words pissed me right the fuck off.

  My fists clenched.

  "Yeah. You loved her all right. You loved her so much that you didn’t even come to her funeral to pay your respects. The woman loved you like a daughter and you didn’t even bother to show up," I said, scorning her with my words before thinking, which was exactly why I wasn't fast enough to move.

  Mia spun around, picture frame in hand and she let it fly out of her hand, so fast I never saw it coming. It sailed an inch past my face and crashed into the wall behind me by the time I realized what she'd done.

  "What the --"

  "Fuck you!" she screamed as she cried uncontrollably. She turned around, lifted her arm, put her hand on the corner of the mantel and swiped it across, clearing it of everything that rested on top. Items crashed to the wood floor and glass shattered.

  Her reaction honestly freaked me the fuck out.

  "Shit!" I charged for her, but she ran around the living room and stopped behind the couch before I could catch her. The little terrorist was fast, I’d give her that. We'd practically switched positions in the room.

  "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I roared.

  "I WAS THERE! I WAS THERE AND I SAW YOU WITH HER!" she screamed through her sobs, and tears rained down her cheeks.

  What?

  "What the hell are you talking about, Mia? Saw me with who?"

  She grabbed hold of the couch with one hand, bent, and I saw movement. Next thing I knew, a shoe was flying out of her hand and headed straight for my head. I ducked out of the way, before it hit me and shouted, "Mia, stop!"

  "With her! You took the same stripper bitch you were with the night I miscarried to your mother's funeral! I saw her with my own eyes! Eric saw her too, so there’s no way you can deny it!"

  Eric, that prick...number one on my motherfuckin' list!

  She moved to the other foot, removed that shoe and threw it at me too, but this time I didn't move and it hit me square in the chest. Everything was slowly coming together. Bits and pieces of the puzzle from the past that never made sense before, were suddenly fitting perfectly into place.

  When I finished letting the truth sink in, I stalked toward her, but she turned and ran again, now easier and fa
ster without her heels on. She moved in the direction of the kitchen and I took off after her, but by the time I caught up, she'd already grabbed the knife out of the block and turned.

  I skidded to a halt and froze.

  "Are you in-fucking-sane? Put the knife down, Mia," I ordered, threateningly, as I stood still in the middle of the kitchen wondering if she'd lost her goddamn mind, especially when she tilted her head to the side and studied me like she'd never seen me before in her life. Her probing eyes chilled me down to the bone.

  She's fuckin' crazy!

  "What are you gonna do, cop boy?" she asked sweetly, just before taunting, "Arrest me?"

  My temper, already at its boiling point, was about to spill over and ignite.

  "Mia, I get that you’re still drunk or tipsy or whatever the fuck, but I'm warning you. This shit is not funny, and it's not cute, so cut it out!" I barked.

  She rolled her eyes.

  "Oh, pipe down with the Robocop speak. I'm not going to touch you with it. You're not worth it." She paused, looked around my body, licked lips, nodded as if silently confirming something to herself, and then she faced me again. "But I am going to fuck some shit up."

  Then, the lunatic walked toward me, ever so slowly, and I didn't know what to do.

  "After I got pregnant," she started, her voice eerily low, as she entered the living room. "You were so miserable and so confused and so...depressed? Yeah, I think you were depressed. But at times, you acted so loving, protective, and desperate for me that I thought whatever was making you miserable, was something we could get past. I tried and I tried to make you love me --"

  "I loved you," I barked in fury and she stopped and stood directly in front of the brown leather sofa.

  "No, Adam, you cared about me and felt sorry for me, but you didn't love me...or maybe you did love me in your own way, but not the way a husband is supposed to love his wife."

  She looked down. “You know. I loved this couch.”

  She sank the knife into the cushions and slashed, all the way across, and then again on the back, carving out an X.

  "Mia --" I shouted and moved in to stop her, but she stood, held up the knife and continued talking over me at the same time.

  "I should have known, should have seen it coming, but I never thought you were so unhappy that you'd fuck around on me. Maybe I just didn't want to face it, I don't know. When I saw the lipstick on your clothes, I still didn’t want to believe it, but when I saw you kissing her, a girl with an amazing body and platinum-blonde hair…you broke me."

  Breena; A.K.A the mistake.

  Where did I even begin to explain Breena to Mia?

  She was a case that I never should have been given and one that I definitely never should have taken. I'd been young and stupid, and when Mia got pregnant, I’d been in a bad place. But I'd taken all my worries and insecurities out on the one person who meant everything to me, and then I screwed it all up. Every mistake I’d made had turned into a domino effect. The pieces had tumbled and tumbled until there were no more pieces left, and Mia was gone.

  "I told you the blonde was a case, Mia. I was working a case," I told her miserably.

  "Cops take their cases to their mother's funeral." Her brow rose to her forehead.

  I shook my head, rubbed a hand over my head and down my face. How had I not put it together? And where did I even begin to explain? I knew how it looked, but it wasn't what she thought, and getting her to listen was near impossible. I watched as she turned her back on me and walked to the love seat, probably to shred it too, but I couldn't just stand back and watch her take out her anger this way. Not when her pain was all my fault. I'd blamed her for leaving me, but I knew all along that it was because I'd pushed her too far.

  I moved fast, before she saw me, and I slammed my chest into her back and wrapped my arms around her body. She immediately dropped the knife and I held her arms down at her sides.

  "Stop this, Mia," I whispered in her ear.

  She held still, but I felt her body shaking as she cried silently. It killed me inside.

  "Please calm down, Baby," I whispered, but at my words, she shook her head, pushed out of my hold and I dropped my arms. I wanted to keep holding her, touching her, but in her state, I didn’t know which was safer - keeping her close or keeping her at a distance.

  She faced me, with tears still sliding down her cheeks.

  "You know, when you told me the blonde was a case, I wanted so desperately to believe you," she whispered. "Even though I saw you with her myself, I still decided I was going to come back to you. I had every intention of coming back to you, but I’d needed time," she paused and took a deep breath. "I loved you that much and that's how stupid I was. This is going to sound horrible, but I thought that your mom passing away only months after the miscarriage was a sign. A sign that I needed to get over my heartbreak and come back to you, because I stupidly thought you might need me..." Her voice cracked and her eyes closed, "... but you were with her at the funeral. How could you do that to me?"

  "I wasn’t with her, Mia. She showed up on her own. It’s nothing like you’re thinking. It’s a long story, but I messed up. Every single day I live with that regret and you can't imagine how that feels. We have to talk about this because it kills me, and I know you're still hurt and angry right now, but you have to calm down so I can explain everything that happened so you'll understand," I finished firmly.

  "That's the thing, Adam, I don't want to understand. I've never wanted to understand. I've been strong my whole life, because I had to be...always...until I met you. You were my weakness and I knew you would be from the moment I met you. I tried to stay away, but you pushed and shoved your way into my life, refusing to let me go, promising never to hurt me...and then you did. It wasn't just the cheating or the lying; it was you not being there for me when I needed you most. I was scared and lonely, and I had nobody. I needed you," her voice shook and her bottom lip trembled.

  I closed my eyes and held my breath at her words.

  "I loved you, and you know how much. Sometimes, I think I still do. Sometimes, I miss the boy I met when I was eighteen years old; the boy who never would have let me go; the boy who never would have hurt me. But that boy then turned into a man who broke me, who ruined me, who killed the young, fun girl that used to be me."

  Silence. I couldn't find my voice.

  And when I did, it was deep, low and filled with misery.

  "I knew I was your weakness, Mia, and I was hungry for it. But I never abused that knowledge. I underestimated it, but I never abused it."

  Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?" she breathed.

  "You were strong and handled everything on your own when I met you, but I wore you down. I know I did, but I needed to back then, because I needed to feel needed. But in doing that, I also wanted to give you everything. The only reason you're not still living in this house, filling it with my babies and wearing my ring on your finger is because you decided you couldn't forgive me for something I. Didn't. Even. Do. I never cheated on you. I didn’t tell you things that I should have, but I never lied to you. As much as you'd like to think the worst of me, I promise you, Baby, my intention was never to hurt you or push you away. I was working through things --"

  "Just shut up, Adam. You keep saying you didn't cheat, but I saw it with my own eyes, and you know what? It doesn't even matter anymore. We've both gone our separate ways and it's for the best. We were never good together anyway. I couldn't make you happy."

  She couldn't make me happy?

  "You're the only person who knew how to make me happy and you never even had to try. You were my fucking world, Mia, if you'd just get that through your red hair and thick-ass skull, you'd see that! If I could go back and change the past, I would."

  I would have loved her properly and done right by her. I would have made sure my only fuck-up was something like forgetting to pick up toilet paper when I got off work. I would go back and realize that Mia never wanted anything from me, but m
e and the love I could give her… should have given her.

  "Well, it's too late now, isn’t it?"

  I had to touch her again. I couldn't resist. She was here, standing in front of me and I had to feel her against me one last time, especially if it might be the last. I moved and her little body stiffened, but she didn't run. As soon as I was in reaching distance, I pulled her into my arms and held on like my life depended on it.

  She hesitated only a second, before wrapping her arms around my back and I buried my face in her hair, against her neck and breathed her in.

  Coconut.

  I could feel her body trembling, and I heard her soft cries as her tears soaked through my shirt; wetting the skin beneath the fabric.

  I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back my own tears.

  "How? How did things get so ugly between us?" she whispered. I hugged her tighter.

  I wanted to ease her pain so badly that I picked her up.

  I wasn't wasting any more time going back and forth giving partial stories. She needed to know the truth and she needed to know it all.

  Chapter Four

  Mia Bryant

  “What are you doing?” I screeched when Adam picked me up.

  I automatically wrapped my legs around his waist to hang on, because it was uncomfortable letting my legs dangle in front of his.

  "You're gonna fuckin' listen to me," he stated, his tone unwavering.

  He strode up the stairs, down the hall, and into the bedroom; his bedroom; the bedroom we'd once shared. A light switched on and he dropped me, ass down on the edge of the mattress and he followed by dropping to his knees on the floor in front of me. He kept his hands locked tight around my hips and he pulled back to stare into my eyes.

  "This is inappropriate. I shouldn’t be in here," I whispered.

  He ignored me to lift his hands and wipe away the wetness, and makeup from my under my eyes, my cheeks and my nose. When he was finished, his hands fell back to my hips and he breathed out a sigh of relief.