Tymber Dalton (13 page)

She turned to find the shampoo and let out a frightened yelp at the dark shape on the other side of the shower curtain. She ripped it open.

Steve stood there, looking sheepish and apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“Goddammit, Steve!” What little serenity she’d achieved vanished. “Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?”

He studied the floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened last night. I don’t know why I’m sleepwalking. I don’t remember anything.” He looked at her, his eyes pleading. “What do you want me to do?”

She studied him. What
did
she want him to do? A few months ago, she would have replied she wanted him to fight for their marriage, fight for her.

Now she wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted. It would be easier if it died a quick and painless death once and for all, wouldn’t it?

Was it even worth saving in the first place?

She sighed. “I don’t know, Steve. I honestly don’t know what I want you to do,” she admitted, giving her thoughts voice. “I suggested counseling before we left Ohio, and you jumped down my throat like a crazy man.”

His expression darkened. “I don’t want them to put me on some sort of medicine that makes it impossible for me to write.”

“You’ve been on meds before. Is that what you think you are, depressed?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is you’re right. I didn’t want to admit it, but now…” He didn’t finish, and shrugged again. “I don’t know what to do.”

Sadness enveloped her. It was hard for her to remember the man she’d fallen in love with, and not think about his aggravating current self. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve worked my ass off at this marriage, and I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to fix you. Tired of feeling like I’m the only one who cares about this marriage. And I’m damn sure not going to beg you to touch me.”

He looked up, startled. She didn’t give him time to reply, just yanked the shower curtain closed again.

“Are you having an affair?” he asked, his voice hollow.

She ripped the shower curtain open, jerking out two of the hooks in the process. “Are you
shitting
me? How
dare
you! Am
I
having an affair?
I’m
not the one on the computer fourteen to sixteen hours a day!”

Her ferocity drove him back a step. She lashed out at him. “Steven Corey, I stood by you, believed in you, have been your strongest supporter through the years when most women would have said fuck it and left. I stayed with you through your drinking and when you got into recovery. I fought tooth and nail for this fucking marriage.
You
are the one who went AWOL in this marriage a
loooong
time ago,
not
me! I pleaded with you to tell me what’s wrong. I’m the one who kept initiating sex. I’m tired of begging you to touch me. And I tell you what, it sucks having my husband tell me, night after night, that he’s not in the mood. If anyone has a right to ask about affairs, it’s me,
not
you! So go fuck yourself, because you’re damn sure not fucking me.” She yanked the shower curtain shut again.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She lathered her hair. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry you don’t give a shit about us anymore. You need to decide what you want, Steve, because I’m done chasing you. You need to figure out how to fix our marriage if you don’t want me filing for divorce as soon as we get back to Columbus, because I’ll be honest with you, I’m all out of ideas and I’m tired of trying. I said I’d give you one more chance, and you’ve just about used it up.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she stepped under the water. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of him.

It didn’t used to be like this. He used to make her feel like she was not only the most beautiful woman in the world, but the only woman in the world. She felt loved. Wanted.

Desired.

Lately, it felt like she didn’t even exist. She wanted a magic cure, something to wave over their heads and make her feel—

Make her feel the way Matt used to make her feel.

That’s when her tears flowed in earnest. She thought she heard Steve leave but didn’t open her eyes to look.

Was this what it was all about? That Steve never made her feel, even in the best of times, the way Matt used to? Back then, Matt wasn’t ready to commit. He didn’t want to see other people, but he’d been honest that he wasn’t ready to get married and have kids.

Matt introduced her to Steve at a party after they’d agreed to just be friends. The unspoken pact between them was they never told Steve about their past. They were close friends, and he was her agent, that’s all Steve needed to know. That’s all they wanted him to know. Otherwise, it would have complicated things.

She kept her face under the spray, trying to wash those thoughts away. She heard the shower curtain open again, and then Steve’s arms curled around her. He pulled her back so she leaned against his bare chest. He held her like that for several minutes.

He didn’t try to seduce her, simply held her. Something else he hadn’t done in quite a while.

She wouldn’t deny it felt good.

The water started going cold. She reached out to turn it off when he pulled her against him again, but his palms felt rough against her arms. She wondered what he’d been doing to get them so chafed. Then his voice, sounding distorted, whispered in her ear. For the first time, she realized he smelled of whiskey.

“Don’t worry. Everything will change. It’ll be over soon.”

Her heart hammered and she wheeled around, stumbling and slipping to find herself alone in the shower.

She screamed.

Sami was still screaming when Steve thundered up the stairs and burst into the bathroom, sending her into further hysterics as the door flew open. He wrapped his arms around her as she beat her fists against him, trying to pull away, nearly falling with her in the shower. He gathered her against him, wet and naked.

Sobbing, she went limp in his arms. He reached over and shut off the water, and they both sank to the tile floor, Steve not caring his clothes were now soaked.

He pulled towels down and wrapped them around her shivering body. After she quieted, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

She clung to him, refusing to let go. He pulled her closer, not sure what happened, but knowing she was in no condition to tell him.

What had happened? She looked like she’d been fending off an attack. He’d left the bathroom after they spoke and went down to his study. He’d wanted to see if any therapists in the area had available appointments. He’d worked his way through several numbers in the phonebook when he heard Sami scream.

The sound had turned his blood cold. He’d been sure he’d find someone attacking her, but she’d been alone, cowering in the corner of the shower, pulling even further away when he approached her.

What the hell is going on?
He felt like he was losing his mind. Coming here was supposed to help things, get him away from Ohio.

Out here, in the middle of nowhere, he thought it would be easier to stay sober.

That he’d finally be able to quit lying to her.

He realized Sami had fallen asleep. He carefully changed position so his arm wouldn’t go numb. Early in their marriage, he would have jumped at the chance to have her in bed like this. She was a beautiful woman.

This wasn’t her fault, and he didn’t blame her one bit for her anger. He felt he deserved every bit of it.

First he had the writer’s block, born of worry about producing yet another blockbuster novel for his publisher to fulfill his contract. When he wasn’t worried about that, he struggled to control his hair-trigger temper. Sometimes he felt like he wanted to deliberately lash out and hurt her, drive her away.

He knew he couldn’t keep this up, especially the lying to her.

He watched her. Even in sleep, worry creased her brow. He loved her with all his heart, but he felt helpless to stop hurting her.

How has she put up with me for so long?
He knew she was faithful. It felt like something inside him goaded him to make the accusation, enjoying her righteous indignation.

That wasn’t like him. It’s not how he wanted to be.

She was right—he needed help. More than she knew.

Eventually, when she fell deeply asleep, he carefully extricated himself and pulled a light blanket over her. He shivered in his wet clothes. Peeling them off, he dropped them in the hamper before putting on a clean T-shirt and shorts.

He looked in the bathroom. What had terrified her? Sami wasn’t a woman who usually frightened easily. The look on her face when he burst through the door had been sheer terror.

She’d been alone, with only one way downstairs, and the bathroom window was too small for a large child to fit through, much less an adult.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep. After a while, he went downstairs, leaving the bedroom door open so he’d hear when she awoke. A few phone calls later, he had an appointment for the next morning with a therapist in Brooksville. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to see someone in this small town, but he needed help immediately.

When he heard her stir, he returned to their bedroom. She sat up in bed, looking around, disoriented.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“What happened?” She didn’t even sound like herself. She sounded dazed.

“I don’t know. I was downstairs and heard you scream. I found you in the shower. You were terrified.”

The color drained from her face. “There was someone in the shower with me!”

“What?”

She looked pale. Her hands trembled. “I was in the shower and I heard the curtain move. I—I thought it was you. He put his arms around me and said—” She closed her eyes, trying to remember. “‘Don’t worry. Everything will change. It’ll be over soon.’ His breath smelled like booze.”

Steve sat on the edge of the bed. “Sami, you were alone in the bathroom when I found you.”

* * * *

Alone?
She swore someone was in the shower with her. Someone spoke to her. She shook her head. “I know it sounds crazy, but it happened, I swear.” She remembered seeing Steve—fully dressed—burst through the bathroom door. He didn’t have time to dry off and get dressed and back to the bathroom.

She knew she didn’t imagine it.

“Sami—”

“I’m
not
crazy.”

“I know you’re not. We’re both under a lot of stress. You probably fell asleep standing under the water and imagined it. You’re exhausted, you’ve been asleep for over an hour. You got up early, and didn’t get much sleep last night, thanks to me.”

Could that be it?
A glance at the clock confirmed it.

“I know I smelled the alcohol on his breath. His hands felt so rough.” She turned Steve’s palms over and found them as smooth as ever. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

He nodded. “That makes two of us.” He held her hand in his.

“I smelled booze. I didn’t imagine that.”

“Sami, we don’t have liquor in the house.”

She chewed her lip. He continued. “I called around. I found someone who can get me in tomorrow morning. A therapist.” He looked down. “I need help.”

Her fingers tightened around his, and when he looked up, she saw tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Sami said. She leaned over and kissed him.

* * * *

He didn’t tell her he also found out about the next AA meeting. He’d go before the counseling appointment.

She dressed and went downstairs. She still acted out of sorts, and he went out of his way to be gentle and attentive. She’d stood by him in the beginning when he first got sober. He promised her he’d never drink again, even though he knew it was a promise he couldn’t keep. For a year, at least, he had.

It had been over a year since his last AA meeting. He knew full well he should be going not once a week, but several times a week. It was difficult to work meetings into his schedule, especially once his reputation rose and it became harder to find a truly “anonymous” meeting.

And he had Sami convinced his recovery was on track.

He wasn’t craving a drink as much as he craved some sort of release. He thought it was due to the writer’s block, because he found writing gave him as much of a buzz as any booze. He’d had serious withdrawals for a while, barely putting two sentences together without having them sound like crap unless he took a drink. At least he was writing again. Maybe he could get out of this funk and get his recovery—and their marriage—back on track.

If it wasn’t too late.

* * * *

Thursday morning Steve parked in the distance and watched the building for a while. The meeting took place in the Fellowship Hall of the Methodist church in downtown Brooksville. Five minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, he went in and quietly found a seat toward the back.