When We Collide (2 page)

She pursed her lips, one side drawn up higher than
the other, before she turned away. Her brief moment of concern
vanished just as quickly as it had surfaced.

Grabbing my briefcase, I headed for the garage. I
backed my black luxury SUV out onto the narrow, winding road
overlooking Los Angeles. Smog squatted heavily on the horizon, the
early morning light a misty gray. The traffic-clogged freeway was
no surprise. My car came to a standstill almost the moment I merged
on I-10 on the way to my office downtown.

Feeling the effects of the fatigue, I slumped in the
seat and rested against the headrest. My eyes dropped closed.

When all I saw were those same brown eyes from my
dream staring back at me, my eyelids flew open.

What the hell is wrong with me?
I pressed the
heels of my hands into my eyes. I’d always prided myself on my
self-control, my tenacity, my ability to get the job done. Now I
felt as if my sanity was hanging by a quickly unraveling
string.

Where this unease was coming from, I wasn’t really
sure. I guessed the dreams were just an extension of my
dissatisfaction with life—a relationship I didn’t want to be in and
a job that was so stressful I could barely think straight at the
end of the day. I’d lost myself somewhere along the way, and maybe
my subconscious was telling me it was time I found that person
again, because I sure as hell wasn’t happy with who I’d become.

In the beginning, I’d embraced the escape I found in
L.A., but it would never be home. It was only that—an escape.

My whole life growing up, I’d dreamed of getting out
of Mississippi, until I left for college and slowly realized that
small town was the only place I wanted to be. My older brother,
Blake, had always teased me of being a momma’s boy, an accusation
that had caused us more than a few fistfights out in our backyard
when we were kids. Growing up, I’d always strived to be tough, just
like Blake, who was the star football player, the guy all the girls
wanted. But I’d been the tall, gangly one—the scrawny little
brother who’d end up with a fat, bloody lip after Blake put me back
in my place when I tried to stand up to him. Proving Blake’s point,
I’d always run straight to our mom, who would tend to my bloody lip
with an ice pack and a gentle hand through my hair.

Funny how times changed.

Now Blake had two little girls and a devoted wife, a
quiet spirit and a soft voice, and I was no longer the awkward
little boy. In the world I worked in, I slit throats before someone
else could slit mine. I never thought twice about a quick stab to
the back to get me one step closer to wherever Kristina wanted me
to go.

Mom called us a
power couple
with no small
amount of distaste, unable to hide her displeasure with the
callused person I’d become.

Apparently something inside me didn’t like who I’d
become either.

Forty minutes later, I pulled into the underground
garage. I parked in the slot plated with my name, drew in a deep
breath, and fixed my face with an expression to match the persona
that each day seemed to become harder and harder to slip into.

The doorman stood aside with a succinct nod. “Good
morning, Mr. Marsch.”

I dipped my head brusquely in a clipped show of
power and strode to the elevator.

~

Nicholl’s
was dimly lit and banked with men
in designer suits. They were overshadowed by executive women with
handbags that probably cost more than my first car. The restaurant
catered to the affluent. Not the famous, but the educated who had
clawed their way to the top, others who’d been born into it and
inherited the seat, and, no doubt, a few who had slept their way
in.

Kristina sat at a round, high table in a corner of
the lounge, chatting with the two men facing her. She raised her
hand in greeting when saw me from across the room, an artificial
smile on her face.

I made my way over, and forced myself to kiss her on
her proffered jaw.

“William, so good of you to make it.” Her irritation
was barely constrained.

I was five minutes late.

“Sorry,” I apologized as I smoothed my tie against
my chest and tucked myself onto the empty barstool beside her.

She didn’t seem to get I was late because cleaning
up her
Daddy’s
messes was a never-ending job. How I’d ever
fallen into the trap of working with the two of them, I’d never
know.

She introduced me to our potential clients, her easy
banter putting them at ease. From the way they looked at her, I
could see she’d already cinched this account. Even though I’d pull
out my laptop and show them how we’d make their investment grow,
and Kristina would set out to convince them of the reasons why
joining her father’s firm would benefit them, it would all be
completely unnecessary.

Kristina had caught me when I’d been an intern
during my last year of college. I‘d allowed her to draw something
out in me then that I’d never known I possessed, something I wished
now she’d never uncovered. Older by five years, she was already
preparing to take her place at the top of her father’s company and
promised to take me along with her. In the beginning, it seemed
like a great arrangement. It served as a perfect distraction from
my past, a place where I could pretend I was someone I was not. And
I doubted there were many men who’d object to sleeping with a woman
that looked like Kristina night after night, but that kind of
superficial attraction could only last for so long.

Several drinks later, the two men were signing on
the dotted line.

No surprise.

Kristina was pleased and squeezed my thigh under the
table. We parted from the men with the typical pleasantries of
assured success. Following her home, I parked in the spot next to
her red Porsche. She was all coy smiles and sex when she stepped
from her car. A slow sense of dread settled in the pit of my
stomach.

I really had begun to hate this life.

~

Kristina slept curled up on her side, once again
facing away from me. Her blond hair gleamed in the moonlight that
streamed in through the window. Mimicking her pose, I allowed my
eyes to trace over her bare skin, down her back where it sloped and
met with her hip—and tried to
feel
something—something other
than disdain.

A bitter taste soured in my mouth when I realized
there was
nothing
.

Exhausted, I sank further into the mattress, further
into my pillow, and drifted.

Laughter was his call, lost somewhere deep in the
forest. The wind came fierce, blew across William’s face, stung as
he lumbered through the desolate play yard.

William tripped into the jumbled wood.

A flash of blond hair.

“Bet you can’t find me.” The boy giggled and
ran.

Fear surged and twisted in William’s gut, pushed him
forward.

“Wait,” William called, stretching his hand out in
the child’s direction. Please.

He peeked out from behind a tree, the boy with
William’s face.

The child was on the move again, hiding, laughing,
stirring the unknown anxiety into a frenzy that beat like a drum
against William’s chest.

Please, wait.

The laughter dimmed and waned. The boy’s sudden fear
hit William like a knife to the chest. Somewhere in the deepest
recesses, far beyond his reach, William heard him scream.

I jerked awake. Gulping for air, I clutched my head
and tried to press the dream from my thoughts, but it dug its
fingers deep, bored beneath my skin as the seeds of fear I’d felt
for months firmly took root.

Maggie ~ Present Day

Lightning flashed outside the living room window. It
lit up the sleeping street and silhouetted the long, barren
branches of towering trees. I stood in the quiet of the darkened
room and flattened my palm on the cool glass pane.

So many years had passed, but I would never
forget.

I would never forget his touch. The way he made me
feel or what he made me see. Would never forget the gentle kindness
in his eyes.

Another spark of lightning blanketed the night sky,
and if I focused hard enough, I could almost see him standing in
the middle of the vacant street. Tufts of his dark blond hair were
whipped up by the wind, framing the intensity of his startling
brown eyes. He was staring directly back at me.

William had been the only one who had ever cared
enough to really see me.

Pressing my hand harder on the window, I wished to
somehow draw him near, yet I knew I would never be brave enough to
face him if he were to return.

Startled, I jumped when the back door rattled as it
was unlocked, and I slowly stepped away from the only one I wanted.
And like I’d had to do so long before, I let him go.

William ~ Present Day

Straining to focus, I tried to make sense of the
mess of numbers that seemed to swirl across the page. The harder I
tried, the more jumbled they became. Three hours sleep, Kristina’s
bullshit, dealing with the financial disaster her father had
created for this company, and I was about to snap. I was so tired
of it all.

Tossing my pen onto the spreadsheet, I rocked back
in my leather chair and massaged my temples as if it could silence
last night’s dream that was still screaming in my ears.

“Damn it,” I groaned, rubbing my eyes and trying to
shake myself out of it. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous?”

My skin crawled with the grating created by
Kristina’s voice coming from my office doorway. I blew the air from
my lungs in an attempt to gather myself enough to deal with
her.

She stepped forward and the door latched behind her
with a soft click.

“All of this.” My hand flung out in a flippant wave
in an overt show of frustration.

Just everything.

Kristina took in the disaster upon my desk. My
laptop was angled off to the side and papers were strewn in
unorganized piles around it. She narrowed her eyes back at me.

“What is wrong with you, William?” Dissatisfaction
dripped through her every word. “Dad needed this days ago. You have
got
to pull yourself together.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what they expected, because I
could only move numbers around so much. But it was senseless to
point it out. Making Mr. Crane’s questionable business practices
legal was what I was paid to do. Besides, six months ago, I
would
have had it done days ago. In the beginning, it hadn’t
been that bad, just some mixed up numbers that didn’t quite match,
but the longer I stayed and the deeper I dug, the more I
uncovered.

Suppressing my resentment, I glanced to my left and
out the window to the view of the skyscraper next door. Idly, I
wondered if anyone there felt as trapped as I did here.

I turned my attention back to Kristina and wished I
didn’t feel the surge of animosity that came with it, my tone tight
with restraint. “I’ll get it done as soon as I can.”

~

So absorbed in trying to make the numbers match, I
jumped when my cell phone vibrated and buzzed on the desk. Two
hours had passed and I hadn’t even realized it.

Grabbing the phone, I cringed when I saw the name
that lit up on the screen.

Damn it.

I gave myself a couple seconds before answering,
needing the time to curb the wave of guilt I felt every time I
talked with one of them, and then brought the receiver to my
ear.

“William Marsch.” My standard greeting, all part of
the façade, as if I weren’t already aware of who was calling. It
spoke volumes of the asshole I’d allowed myself to become.

Despite my every effort to keep my family at arm’s
length, they tried just as hard to keep me a part of them. Whenever
I talked with my older brother, Blake was upbeat and asked me how I
was, because he actually cared. He typically ignored the fact that
I had essentially left them all behind.

But not today.

For a few painful moments, he was silent. There were
just faint whispers and rustling in the background. When he finally
spoke, his voice was strained. “Hey, Will...uh...it’s Blake.”

A fear so similar to the one I had felt last night
when I’d awoken from the dream erupted in my chest. I was already
anticipating Blake’s words before he spoke them.

“Listen...I have some bad news.”

In a blur, the faces of my family rushed through my
mind, people I loved but barely knew any more, those I’d pretended
to forget. My chest squeezed as each face passed, and I struggled
to draw in a breath. Moving to lean on my elbows, I pressed my
thumb and forefinger against my eyes and held the phone tighter to
my ear.

Please...just not Mom
. I chanted the silent
prayer before Blake continued to speak.

“Aunt Lara...her...the cancer is back.” Blake
cleared the roughness from his throat. “It’s bad this time, Will.
It’s spread too much. They can’t do anything else but make her
comfortable. It came on so fast.” Blake choked over the
explanation, and I tried to stop the spinning in my head. “They put
her in home hospice and moved her to Mom’s so she can be close to
the family. She only has a few weeks at the most.”

The news penetrated to my core. My Aunt Lara was
going to die.

“God…Blake.”

Even if I tried, this was not something I could push
away. Not another thing I could bundle up and set aside and
convince myself that it didn’t matter.

There was a time when my Aunt Lara and I had been
close. How many hot summer afternoons as a young boy had I snuck in
her back door, sat at her kitchen table with a red popsicle in my
hand, grinning while she asked me the little details about my day?
Or the many Friday nights I spent in her den, on the floor buried
under a blanket, watching movies over popcorn and soda. She’d never
married, had never had children of her own, and she’d always
considered Blake and me
her
boys. Yet another relationship
I’d left behind.