Page 3 of Fourteen Years

I hadn’t slept in our room since the night before Paul died. Everything was untouched. I dusted and cleaned in case the girls went in there but it was like a shrine frozen in time. His clothes were still on his side of the closet, his toothbrush on his side of the sink. All of his soaps and shampoo were still where he’d left them. I even had his dirty uniforms and clothes in the hamper.

No one had any idea.

Everyone thought I was doing well and moving on.

Unfortunately, I was not.

Chapter 02

Sighing, I clicked off the television, glancing around my small, two-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t much but it was clean and I took care of it. The only pictures were of my daughter Lacey throughout the years and her sister, Lexi. It was only me here anyway, except for when I had Lacey, and soon she’d be starting her senior year of high school and headed off into the world. I tried not to think about that too much.

My mind wandered to her mother. My ex-wife.

Shoving my hands through my blonde hair I turned on my side to stare at the black screen of the television. Ready for bed in my sweatpants with no shirt I let my mind drift over Monica. She was not doing well and I’d left her to her own devices for too long at this point. I couldn’t begin to imagine the pain she was enduring, having lost her husband the way she did, but I’d made a promise to him that if anything were to happen I would step up to the plate. I could almost feel him screaming at me in frustration for letting it go this long. He’d rarely let his redheaded temper go, but in this instance he would’ve happily kicked my ass. Yet he knew her as well as I did, and Monica was a stubborn woman.

Monica and I had been high school sweethearts. Bumping into each other in the hallway one day I had taken one look at those brown eyes behind her glasses and been done. Apparently she had felt the same about a nerdy looking skateboard punk because we never looked at anyone else after beginning our relationship.

We had our fights and teenage drama, but for the most part our relationship was healthier than some adults we’d known, especially my parents. My dad had regularly kicked my ass growing up and my mother had let him.

When I’d turned seventeen, they’d both taken off one night and I’d ended up in Monica’s parent’s basement to finish out high school. We got married right out of high school and everything had been perfect for a couple of years.

Until my dad’s ghosts had begun haunting me.

Old accomplices had enticed me to hang out with them and eventually it had led me to the same drugs my dad had turned to. I had fallen headfirst into the escape that using gave me and used it to block out the trauma from my childhood.

Monica just hadn’t seemed to understand. She’d come from a happy home with two parents who doted on each other, herself, and her siblings.

Instead of opening up and leaning on my wife, I’d started doing more and more, like going to the bar and drinking until I knew she’d gone to bed.

Before I knew it, Monica was telling me she was pregnant one night and I was ashamed to admit I barely remembered because of how high I’d been. I’d managed to get clean again for a little bit. But this town was small enough that there was no way to avoid running into the same people I’d always run around with.

The stress of fatherhood and providing for a family got to me. The fear of turning out just like my father was overwhelming. I could still remember the look on her sweet face as she held our crying daughter. She’d told me they deserved better. She told me to straighten up, or get out.

I’d made the biggest mistake of my life and walked out the door.

It took overdosing and waking up in the hospital alone, realizing there was no sustenance to my life, to jar me back to reality. Yet, by the time I’d gotten my shit together and been clean for a while, Monica had met and fallen in love with Paul. A fucking cop! They graciously believed in me and let me prove myself. Let me back into their lives and have Lacey any time I wanted.

We’d grown close despite everything we'd been through and luckily there wasn't any resentment between us. I fell in love with my daughter and regretted every minute I’d spent away from her. I regretted ever picking drugs over being her father. I even got to fall in love with the daughter they had together, and also treated her like my own.

It still burned deep inside me though. The regret was bitter in my mouth and would rear its head at the damndest times. I still loved Monica and always had. What I wouldn’t have given for a second chance.

The killer was, I loved Paul too. The man turned out to be like a brother to me. We even hung out for guys nights and respected each other. He talked me down off the ledge, all the time. The lure of falling off the wagon got so strong sometimes. He made himself available to me day or night. He’s the one that recommended I give firefighting a try.

I finally found my passion, and the rest is history. It makes something come alive within me to save lives. The physical exertion also helps me when I think about slipping back into oblivion.

Then he was gone.

I still remember the sound of Monica’s screams that night. I felt like I couldn’t hold her tight enough. Like if I didn’t keep my arms around her, she was going to break apart right in front of me.

I’d always wanted a second-chance but never wanted it to come this way. Paul had even sat me down once and told me that under it all he knew we still loved each other. He asked me if anything ever happened to him, not to let Monica fall into a place she couldn’t come back from. He asked me to step back into her life. He asked me to take care of our daughters, and protect them all.

I sighed again, flipping onto my back. It was time to take action and keep my promise. I just knew it was going to be hell getting us both there.

Monica had been through a lifetime of hurt. First with my leaving, and then Paul being taken. I didn’t even know how to initiate anything with a grieving woman, let alone one who was also your ex-wife.

Beep

I picked up my phone and stared at the screen. What are the odds?

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