All of Me Page 17

  Nathan brows rose.

  “Yeah. They called it a ‘suidical gesture’ because he tried overdosing on his blood pressure medication instead of blowing his brains out, but we all know he was serious,” Stella said. “He spent a while in the hospital and we’ve all taken turns watching him ever since. He got a lot better when my sisters had their kids. They were new reasons to soldier on, you know?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “What about your parents? Your family?” Stella hesitated when Nathan’s expression darkened. “You mentioned having siblings before…on that walk…”

  Nathan went into full statue mode and Stella knew she was in for the fight of her life.

  Stella stood. “Want a bottled water?”

  He said, “Fine,” because he knew better than to argue.

  Stella grabbed him one out of the fridge and handed it to him. “Wait…why are both of your hands bandaged up?”

  “I, uh, scraped the other one up in the scuffle too,” Nathan lied. “So I’ve got a little Neosporin on it.”

  Well, at least the Neosporin wasn’t a lie. He’d actually ripped up his palm weight lifting again, but that was just another fucked-up thing he wouldn’t be sharing with Stella any time soon.

  “Here. Let me look at it…”

  “No. It’s fine. I’ve got it wrapped up good. Thanks anyway.” Nathan cleared his throat as Stella sat down. “I’m sorry to come over so late, but something occurred to me on my drive home and I wanted to talk to you about it right away. In person.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  A flush crept up his neck. “I was thinking about our…encounters. And how I didn’t use protection.” Stella’s expression hardened subtly. “I, uh, wanted to make sure you were using something. Regularly. Or not.”

  He’d never been so careless in his life. In fact, even when he’d known a woman he was sleeping with was taking birth control, he still used a condom. But he’d had sex with Stella a bunch of times and hadn’t used anything. The thought that he might have…

  Don’t even think it.

  “I thought of that afterwards too, but not because of pregnancy. I was thinking more about STDs,” she said, her voice flat. As if accusing him of having a STD and knowingly giving it to her was no big deal.

  “I would never have unprotected sex with you – or anyone - if I had an STD.” Nathan shook his head. “Jesus Christ, Stella, what kind of person do you think I am?”

  “I guess the kind that would have unprotected sex with me – and who knows who else – knowing you might get someone pregnant!”

  “For your information, you are the only woman I have ever had unprotected sex with. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a low opinion, but I can assure you I am not an irresponsible person.” He paused. “Usually.”

  Stella had the decency to look the slightest bit abashed. “I’m sorry. That was another jealous lash-out and you didn’t deserve it. I apologize.” She exhaled a shuddering breath and fidgeted with the hem of her pants. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t get pregnant.”

  “Why not?”

  “The chemo. The radiation. The cancer drugs I had to take.” Stella shrugged. “It was a difficult decision, but, at the end of the day, if I had died from the cancer, I wouldn’t have been able to have kids anyway. So I did what I had to do.”

  Nathan’s insides knotted up and he felt like someone was roundhouse kicking him in the face.

  “My mastectomy was actually a harder decision, believe it or not.” Stella exhaled a hard laugh. “You’d be surprised how attached you get to something you’ve had since you were 11 years old.”

  Nathan sat there – like an asshole – not saying anything because he had no idea how to express anything he was thinking or feeling. As usual.

  Stella smiled tightly. “But you didn’t come to get my medical history, did you? You were concerned you’d knocked me up. And now you know that’s not possible, no worries. So…I guess you can get back to whatever you had going on tonight.”

  “I didn’t have anything going on tonight.”

  Except obsessively thinking about you, worrying about you, and sporting a painful erection since you hugged me six hours ago.

  “Then why didn’t you want to come over?” Stella asked quietly. “Was I smothering you? Or maybe you’ve decided you don’t want to do this after all? Because if that’s what’s going on here, you need to tell me, Nathan. It will only hurt me worse if you drag it out.”

  Wow…that’s not where he thought her head had been. He was embarrassed to feel sort of…good. That she seemed to care for him so much.

  “I haven’t decided anything like that, Stella. I-“

  Nathan tried. He tried really hard. To say something that would make her feel good. Something that would explain his awkward behavior.

  But he couldn’t, so instead he said, “I get worked up when I work domestic calls. I needed a little time and space to cool off. That’s it, Stella. I swear.”

  She exhaled a relieved breath. “I understand. Thank you for telling me. I know I have the tendency to get a little smothering. Feel free to tell me to back off in the future,” she said with a half-smile.

  Nathan nodded and they slipped into silence again.

  “Nathan?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Speaking of smothering, I hate to push you, but I feel like we can’t move forward until I figure some stuff out.”

  Uh-oh.

  “And maybe right now isn’t the best time to get into it, but can we agree to talk about it later? But not too much later?”

  Nathan squirmed a little in the chair before finding settling on the forearms-braced-on-the-knees pose. “What exactly do you need to figure out?”

  Stella twirled the drawstring on her sweat pants around and around her ring finger. “Well, your scars, for one thing. The whole foster home thing for another.” She hesitated. “And I know about you living in the old neighborhood. I swear I didn’t know when we met. I was way too young when that all happened. But when I mentioned your name, my oldest sister Gigi and my dad remembered.”

  Nathan wanted to smash something.

  “That was a long time ago, Stella,” he said tightly. “And something I prefer not to think about or discuss. Period.”

  “All of it? Or just the C’s part?”

  “All of it.”

  Stella made a frustrated sound. “Well, that’s not going to work for me, Nathan. I’m sorry, but I need to understand you. And to do that, I need to know everything about who you are and where you came from.”

  “Why? What does that accomplish? I’ve never hashed it out with any other woman and they didn’t seem too broken up about it,” Nathan said. “The past is the past and that’s where it belongs. I am not looking to relive it or explain it or try to fucking analyze it. Not gonna happen.”

  “I’m not ‘other women.’” Stella jammed a finger into her chest. “I’m this woman and this woman needs to know! I’m sorry if it’s difficult or annoying or whatever, but you need to talk to me, Nathan!”

  Nathan jumped out of his chair and loomed over a now wide-eyed Stella.

  “Why? So you can pity me? So you can ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh’ and cry for the pathetic little fuck-up? No thanks!”

  But instead of cowering beneath him, Stella did her own jumping up.

  She stood on the balls of her feet, trying to get as close to in his face as she could. “Who said anything about pity? I have no intentions of pitying you, Nathan. I just want to know you. All of you. And that includes the good, bad, and the ugly. I’ve shared with you, Nathan. Hard stuff. Painful stuff. Stuff that only my sisters know. Stuff that I never planned on sharing with anyone ever again.” Her eyes welled. “I showed you. Everything. The worst part of me. The best part of me, too. I was scared and I wasn’t sure how you were going to react, but I did it because I love you and I want to share everything with you. Because, if you want to be with me, you deserve to have all of me. No lie
s. Nothing held back.”

  Nathan stepped back, stunned. It took him a minute, but he finally found his voice. “You don’t have a ‘worst.’ You have a battle scar and a triumphant story and nothing but good things. Things you should be proud of. You got dumped by a loser who never deserved you to begin with and that sucks, but that is nothing – nothing – compared to my worst. It doesn’t even come close.”

  “You think I don’t know that, Nathan? You think I can’t see the pain in your eyes? That I can’t feel your muscles tense up every time I touch you?” Stella gestured toward her bedroom. “That nightmare, Nathan…”

  Suddenly, Nathan’s legs didn’t feel strong enough to support him. He sank back into the chair. A shaking hand reached out for the water bottle. Because his mouth was really dry all of a sudden.

  “I’d have to be blind not to notice how you struggle to eat or how you don’t drink alcohol. Or how super sensitive you are to abuse of any kind. I see all of it, Nathan, and it kills me that I don’t know what’s causing you so much pain. Or how to help you.”

  “I don’t want your fucking help!” Nathan stood up so fast he knocked her chair backwards. “I don’t want it or need it!”

  “I don’t care if you want it or not! You’ve got it! And you will tell me everything, Nathan! I swear to God, I am more stubborn that you are and I will never let it go!”

  Nathan snapped; whipping the water bottle left, into the far wall. It smashed a dent into her drywall and bounced to the ground. He stepped closer to her, hands balled into fists. “What do you want to hear, Stella? That my mother was a weak, alcoholic, mess of a human being? That my father was a sadistic, abusive motherfucker who put out his cigarettes all over my body from when I was an infant until I was 11 years old? That he whipped me with belts and broken broomsticks and slashed me with razor blades? That he beat me every day; breaking almost every bone in my body at least once, sometime more than once? That he strangled my mother to death in front of me and my two little brothers? That he’s in prison?”

  When Stella started crying, Nathan went after her even harder. “Oh, but I haven’t even gotten started, sweetheart. I thought you wanted to hear everything! Don’t you want to hear about how, before he killed my mother, my father spent all of our money on drugs and alcohol and left us starving? That I had to go into your father’s grocery store and buy whatever I could with the change I found breaking into people’s cars and digging through garbage. And, speaking of garbage, I’m sure you’ll want to hear all about how we had to survive on rotten food we picked out of the trailer park dumpster, huh, Stella? You said you noticed I have an issue with eating. Yeah, cause every time I put anything in my mouth, that meant it was less food for my brothers. Which meant eating food equaled guilt. Which is why, still to this day, I have a hard time choking it down, let alone enjoying it.

  Maybe you want to hear that I was separated from my brothers at 11; sent to one wretched, abusive foster home after another until a social worker finally bothered to notice my new bruises and the fact that I was so thin you could count my ribs? That I was then sent to a juvenile home where I had to fight off predators and bullies with my bare hands on a daily basis just to survive until the next day?

  Or how about how my one brother overdosed on drugs and died at 23 and the other one is serving a life sentence for drugs? That I couldn’t save them? That I failed them, just like I failed my mother?”

  “Nathan…”

  “Not enough? Okay, how about that I joined the Army the day I turned 18 and did four horrific tours in the Afghanistan; watching my friends die one by one? Shot, blown up, and captured by the enemy? Enjoying yourself yet, Stella? Have a good time? Wanna hear more?”

  Stella’s tears spurred him on.

  “Maybe you’d get a kick hearing about grown men crying out for their mothers and pissing themselves and grabbing onto each other as mortars and bombs rained over our heads? That, even though I tried my damndest, I couldn’t bring my brothers back alive. That I had to live with the guilt of surviving when so many other people died? Of wanting to vomit the day they mailed me my medals? Or does the old stuff bore you? Maybe you’d like to hear about all the fucked-up shit I do now.

  I’ve never had a real relationship with anyone. I can’t. I don’t know how because I’ve never had a normal relationship with another human being except maybe for Danny because we are the same type of person: Fucked. Up. I will never get married or have children because I would never trust myself not to abuse them. I don’t know a fucking thing about adult/child relationships that doesn’t involve physical and verbal abuse. Not that it matters because what fucked-up relationship would I have that would last long enough to lead to marriage?

  I have screwed tons of women and not cared about a single one of them. I fucked them because that’s what I was supposed to do, but I hated it. Every time. With every woman. I can’t remember their faces or what their names were. I used them up and spit them out and I fucking hate myself for it. And after every time, I’d do this fucked-up shaking and sweating thing that I’d have to explain away as the flu or mono and then get the fuck out of there. Oh, sure, I’d call them again and when I couldn’t stand myself anymore, I’d eventually break it off with them, but it was so twisted and sick and fucked-up. It made me feel dirty and angry and then I’d go home and get even more fucked up.”

  Nathan barked out a harsh laugh. “You wanna know what’s wrong with my hands?” He unwrapped the Ace bandage covering his right hand and shoved the torn flesh into Stella’s face. “I did that. To myself. By purposefully not wearing a leather glove when I lift weights. I run and exercise and lift weights until my body is so destroyed that I can finally relax. I’ve ripped up my hands, pulled muscles, developed a hernia, slipped disks, and sprained my own muscles. But I can’t stop. Because I have no other outlet. I don’t drink because I will never lose control of myself like that and because I’ve seen the destruction that shit causes. I don’t do drugs because it’s against the law. I tried fucking my stress away, but, as you now know, that didn’t work. I do still punch stuff. And throw stuff. But that doesn’t really cut it and so I walk around all fucked up and hope for the best. And you let this beast inside of you. Stella. Still like me? Still wanna save me?”

  Nathan sneered at her tear streaked face. “Happy now? Feel better than I got that all off my chest? Really loving me right about now, aren’t you, Stella?”

  When she reached for him, Nathan shoved her hands away. “What are you, fucking stupid? You a glutton for punishment? Maybe you’re one of those chicks that get off on this kind of stuff. Or maybe it that you just have a thing for asshole cops? First your ex and now me. Sort of a pattern, huh, Stella?” Nathan smirked. “You just a little Badge Bunny, Stella? Huh? Danny was asking about you. Maybe you can go with him when we’re through. Be kind of cool to say you fucked partners, huh?”

  “Nathan. Please. Stop.”

  Stella was sobbing in earnest and, for once in his life, a woman’s tears failed to melt him. Instead, they pissed him off more.

  “Fuck this.” He stomped out of her house, slamming the door so hard behind him he heard the wood frame split.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Hello?”

  “Stella? It’s Danny MacDonough. Nathan’s partner.”

  Stella cleared her throat. “I know. What’s up, Danny?”

  “You sound like hell. Sorry. Anyway, sorry to call so late, but need your help.”

  “It’s 4 a.m. What could I possibly help you with right now? If you’ve got a medical emergency, go to the ER.”

  “You sound like you were up,” he said, weakly defensive.

  “I was. What’s up, Danny?”

  Stella was exhausted. Emotionally and physically. Her eyes were swollen and her throat was raw from crying. She’d been about to take a Xanax to sleep before Danny called wanting God knew what.

  “I don’t know what went down with you and Nathan tonight, but he’s a fuckingmess now.�
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  “Good.”

  “Stella…”

  She sighed. “What is his problem? Exactly?”

  “Exactly? Well, right now his exact problem is that he’s handcuffed in the back of a cruiser.”

  Stella sat up on Gigi’s couch. “What? Why?”

  “Apparently, he went to a bar downtown and drank himself into a fucking stupor. Oh, and then he started brawling with everyone,” Danny said. “The cops down here are friends of mine. Thankfully they called me instead of arresting his ass and throwing him in jail.”

  “But Nathan doesn’t drink.”

  “Yeah, well, he decided to drop that little life philosophy tonight long enough to get shit-faced on Jack Daniels and start swinging.”

  “So take him home and let him sober up,” Stella said, gingerly pressing her fingertips to her swollen lids. “Or haul him to jail. What do I care?”

  Danny whistled low. “Man, he must have really pulled some stunts tonight.”

  “He insinuated I was ‘fucking stupid,’ called me a Badge Bunny, and told me that, when I was done with him, I should hook up with you because wouldn’t it be cool to ‘fuck partners.’”

  Danny cursed under his breath.

  “And that’s in addition to throwing a water bottle through my wall and breaking my front door. So you can see why I’m feeling a little less than sympathetic toward any of his BS right now.”

  “Yeah, I’m seeing where you’re coming from. But, Stella, I really could use you down here right now.”

  “Why? So he can hurl drunken insults at me instead of sober ones?”

  “He’s a wreck, Stella. He’s swinging on all of us and screaming and kicking at everything he can in the back of the cruiser. I’ve never seen him out of control like this and I don’t know what to do. We can’t keep him handcuffed in the squad car all night.”

  “Take him to the ER. They’ll put him in restraints and sedate him,” Stella said, already knowing there’s no way in hell Danny would do that.