"Fucking selfish bastard," James cursed as his fingers found the silver locket. He yanked hard. It hesitated for a moment before surrendering to his strength. His fingers folded around the cold semi-precious metal. He would crush it to powder if he could.
Semi-precious said it all. That was all her love had been to that man. All she had been to him. And even then the bastard had sought to keep her bound to him...even after death. Just as he had kept his ex-wife in limbo all those years. Divorced but jumping at his peck and call. It was a good thing the bastard was dead because he would kill him for that alone.
But it was the self-loathing that ate at James's guts as he stared down at the offensive object. Eight years. Two worthless bastards that used and abused her. That took a special part of her spirit and heart with them. He had allowed that. He had hidden safely on the other side of emails and texts, afraid that he could never be the man that she needed. While assholes took what could have been, should have been his.
He shook his head as he raged down the stairs two and sometimes three at a time. He flung open the front door, uncaring if he ripped it from its hinges. Doors could be fixed for easier than this type of damage. He covered the distance to the sea in a matter of seconds. He did not even feel the biting cold of the freezing rain that the heavens had unleashed with a vengeance.
He longed for that type of power right now. The power to destroy. But perhaps that was the problem. His own part in her destruction. He waded into the surf, not caring for either his boots or jeans. The waves wrapped about him, tried to suck him down. For a moment it was exactly what he wanted. To simply disappear beneath the raging waters, to be no more.
But she had had one selfish bastard that took the easy way rather than facing his responsibilities, he would not be a coward like that. If he had screwed up, he would find some way of making it up to her, of righting the wrong.
He looked at the silver necklace one final time. He considered stuffing it in his pocket, keeping it as a reminder of his own failings. But just the sight of it turned his stomach. He flung it as far as he could into the surf and hoped that the tides drew it deeper out to sea, never to be seen again.
He needed no physical reminder of what his insecurities had done to her. His first sight of her had been enough. The dark circles beneath those expressive green eyes. The hollow sunken appearance of her cheeks. Her ashen colour. The way that the corset hung from her thinner body rather than embraced and caressed it. The way that she moved about the room like a robot, talking and laughing with people he did not know, but the emotions never reached her eyes. It was a memory that was etched in his brain. He should have said something sooner. Done something sooner. Should have gone to her long ago.
But he couldn't. No, he wouldn't. He had needed to become the man that she spoke about and not the fucked up little boy. The way that she talked about him as strong and intelligent, as special. He felt none of those things. He never had. Different. Alone. A mistake. Those were the only things that he was.
Until they began emailing. James lifted his face to the heavens. Threw out his arms and embraced the storm that raged there even as a more violent one raged inside of him. The great sheets of rain that fell from the sky mixed with and hid the tears that seeped from the corner of his eyes.
"Fucking bastard," he screamed to no one and everyone. The words echoed back to him even as they were absorbed by the surf, the rocks and trees that surrounded him.
He had been no different. He had hurt her just as badly as the others. Perhaps not by callous acts of commission but by omission. What right did he have to hate and blame the spineless bastard for trying to hold on to her? He was no different. Worse even.
He had held onto their friendship like the life line it was for him...no matter the fact that he knew, knew in his heart, that his very presence in her life kept her from ever committing fully to another man. Hell, her stubborn determination to stay with that man was nothing more than her trying to deny how she truly felt for him. And he had not had the strength to tell her that. Or to go to her.
He closed his eyes and just stood in the surf. Allowed the waves and rain to wash him, to cleanse him. He sought peace, quiet in his mind. It was the hardest thing of all to achieve. He had tried meditation. Tai Chi. Hell, he had even flirted with religion, reading the great books of several religions as he sat on the porch and thought of her. But none of it worked. None of it ever had.
The wind whipped around him. It seemed to physically push him backwards. Back towards the house. Towards her. He had a choice to make. Another one. Go back inside that house and face demons that he had hidden from for a lifetime. Or hide away safely as he had tried to in this place for the past three years.
He would never know now what might have happened if he had found the courage to go to her then. When his life started to finally come together. When he had achieved more than he ever thought possible. When he had more to offer than that other man did. But it had not been enough. Fear of rejection...again...perhaps worse than any other...had made him play it safe. Hide away in this paradise that was more tomb than palace.
But he had gone in the end. Her emails and texts had reached out to him, drawn him out of grave that he had crafted for himself. Yes, he had known. Known what he was going to do when he left here yesterday.
Yesterday. Was it really just yesterday? Almost twenty-four hours ago? So much had changed. He had changed. His course in life had changed. Just by meeting her. Then again the course of his life had been changed forever when he 'met' her eight years ago.
He turned and looked back at the bungalow. He owned that. He would have never believed such a thing possible eight years ago. Hell, even five. He was just the geek. The loner. The screwed up little kid that everyone picked on at school. A nobody. He would have probably worked in that damned warehouse and lived with his parents for the rest of his fucking life. If he had not... It had been a long time since those thoughts assailed his mind.
He owed it all to her. Her fucked up belief that he was more. That he was special. That he deserved better. Could be more. As hard as he had fought it, she got inside his mind somehow. He had not even realised it at first.
But slowly, imperceptibly, he had begun to believe in himself. Try to be what she had thought he could be. First he had learned to drive and gotten his first car. Then he had accepted her challenge to take an online course in writing code for the games he loved so much.
He had even gotten a job as a games tester. While it was not much higher paying than the warehouse at least he did not hate it. The more games he tested, the more he thought...I can do better than this shit. He began to play around in his spare time with code and a few months later he worked up the courage to show it to some friends from work. They had loved it. Now the same assholes that had once picked on him at school played his fucking game.
And he owed it all to her. He sighed as he felt the wind shoving him more solidly this time. "All right, all right already. I get your message," he had lost his mind. He was talking to the wind. Or perhaps it was her stupid fate that she always talked about. It did not really matter. He knew what he had to do.
No matter what happened, he was going to be there for her now as she had been for him during all those years. He was going to get her through this just as he promised. He owed her that...and lots more.
The walk back to the house seemed so much longer. The squishing of his boots roared louder than the waves, making a mockery of him. He shivered, noticing for the first time, how cold it really was. He stopped for a moment on the porch, hesitant to spread this mess inside his home. He liked everything neat and orderly. He laughed at the thought, given the chaos that usually reigned in his mind.
Just when he would have kicked off his boots and striped out of his soaking jeans on the porch, the wind shoved him through the door, slamming it closed behind him. He looked around the ground floor, but it was vacant. He heard a quiet sobbing and looked up at the loft. He could not see her from where he stood but followed the sound automatically. Once more he took the stairs two and three at a time.
He stopped at the top of them. She knelt naked still. Her back was to him and the perfect heart-shape of her bottom resting upon her heels was so strong a pull that not even the ice-cold of his jeans could keep his cock from swelling inside of them. Her shoulders were stooped and he could see that her hands covered her face as she cried.
He hesitated again. Was he the reason that she was crying? It was the one thing he had never wanted. What had kept him from her for so long. He did not want to be another one of her mistakes, just another selfish bastard in a long line of them. He did not want to use her, abuse her and toss her aside...or worse yet kept her tied to him through her loyalty even when it hurt her. But he could be there for her now. He owed her that much. And whatever tomorrow held, he was going to find the courage to do what needed doing in this moment.
"You think tears will get you out of your punishment so easily," he listened to the deep sound of his own voice carry about the house dispassionately. "I am a dacryophilliac. Tears just make my cock harder."
She turned around and they glistened in her green depths like the sun glinting off the sea on a calm day giving it a glassy appearance as if you could actually walk on it. He found himself doing just that, walking on water across the room to where she knelt.
