Kele Moon - Crossing the line

“You wanna do it again?” Wyatt asked after several long minutes.

Tabitha lifted her head and smiled at him. “Sure.”

Tabitha’s car was in the shop, but the repairs were so expensive she had been procrastinating on picking it up. Wyatt said he’d buy her a new one, but if they were really going to buy a house, she thought that might be a waste.

She had lots of money saved. She just got nervous when she had to spend it. The thought of handing fifteen hundred dollars over to that mechanic was making Tabitha break out in a sweat, even if rationally she knew she had enough.

She wasn’t going to starve. She could pay for the dang car.

This was the internal conversation she was having with herself as she worked on her final closing duties for Maple’s before Terry drove her home.

“Come on, girlie. This place is clean,” Terry said as he walked out from the back. “You keep rubbing at those lottery displays, and there won’t be any glass left.”

“Fingerprints.” Tabitha leaned down and sprayed at the bottom corner where some child had left their mark.

“Nope.” Terry stopped in front of her and then leaned down to grab her arm. “Put the bottle down, or I’m going to have to initiate an intervention. You’re the biggest neat freak I’ve seen in all my days.”

“Fine.” Tabitha broke out of his hold and unlatched the lottery counter door to put the cleaning supplies away.

She saw the cigarettes were out of order and turned to fix them, but Terry slammed his hand down on the glass. “It’s eleven o’clock. Hal’s waiting for me.”

“I just cleaned that,” she snapped at him.

“You need help.” He laughed. “I’m gay, and I’m telling you that you’re too damn neat. That’s a problem.”

Tabitha held up her hands and then let it be because she knew she probably had a problem where that was concerned, but if Terry had grown up in the house she had, he’d like things nice and orderly too.

She picked up her purse and slipped it over her shoulder. “Thanks for the ride. I’m going to pick up my car tomorrow.”

“You’ve been saying that since before you left for Chicago.” Terry looked at her in concern when they started toward the back. “Do you need money?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m getting it tomorrow. I promise.”

“If you say so,” Terry said in disbelief as he reached into his pocket for his keys.

They stopped at the alarm, and he set it. Then they made the quick dash for the back door. Tabitha gasped when they stepped into the night air. Wyatt was leaning against his patrol car, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing his uniform, but his hat must’ve have been tossed into the passenger seat.

“What the heck—” she started with a smile.

“I reckoned I could save Terry a trip and give my wife a ride.” Wyatt shrugged as he smiled back at her. “I’m on break.”

“Well, okay.” Tabitha shrugged as she turned back to Terry. “Guess you’re getting to Hal faster than planned.”

“Works for me.” Terry shook his head as he looked over to Wyatt. “I surely can’t believe you two got married in Chicago. I bet Jules lost her mind missing it like she did.”

“Nah, she was fine with it.” Wyatt beckoned Tabitha over. “Come on. Y’all took longer than I planned. I need to get back to work.”

“Talk to your wife ’bout her cleaning problem,” Terry said as he walked over to his car. “I’m staying the night at Hal’s place. Call me if you need a ride.”

“Thanks.” Tabitha practically skipped over to Wyatt.

Seeing him after work was a nice surprise, and she stood on her toes to give him a kiss when she got to him. “This was sweet of you.”

“You need a car.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “I’m heading over to Kennedy’s place tomorrow and paying for you to get it back.”

“No, I’m doing it. I have the money, Wyatt.” She walked around to the other side of the car. “I’m just being stingy.”

“What’s mine is yours.” Wyatt got into the driver’s side and then unlocked her door. “You need to start getting used to it.”

“I’m working on it.” She got in and pulled the door closed. She tossed her purse on the floor next to his hat and then buckled her seat belt. “How’s work tonight?”

“Slow.” Wyatt started the car and backed up. “Too slow. Never a good sign. When it gets this slow, that means something’s ’bout to go down.”

“Yeah? What’s that? Cop superstition?”

“Just makes me nervous. If something’s too good to be true, it usually is.” Wyatt always drove really fast, and Tabitha noticed the police cruiser exacerbated the problem. He tore out of the parking lot as he said, “I need to get back. I don’t like my dad out in the field by himself. He’s supposed to stay behind his desk doing sheriff things and leave the grunt work to us deputies.”

“He ain’t ever stayed behind that desk.” Tabitha laughed. “Ask anyone in Garnet who broke a law in the past decade.”

“I know.” Wyatt sighed. “Stubborn bastard.”

Tabitha gave him a knowing look. “You love him.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

With Wyatt driving, they got to Tabitha’s road really fast. “Oh, stop here,” she said when he turned down it. “I’ll walk.”

“At eleven at night?” Wyatt gave her a look. “No.”

“It’s not that far. I’ll be fine.”

“Tabitha, no, I can drive you to the door.”

“But, you can’t—”

Wyatt slammed on the brakes so hard Tabitha was suddenly glad she took the time to put her belt on. She put her hands on the dashboard and looked at him in shock.

“You haven’t told her yet?” Wyatt barked, his light eyes wide in fury.

“I said I needed a few days!”

“Tonight. Now.” Wyatt gestured to the road. “I’ll drive to your house, and we’ll both go in there and tell her before I go back to work.”

“No,” Tabitha said with determination. “I’m not ready.”

Wyatt threw the car into park, which Tabitha knew was a bad sign. Then he leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. “Tab, I have tried to be understanding.”

“No, you haven’t,” she argued. “It’s been three days since Chicago. I’m not like you. I can’t just shout it at my family and expect them to get over it. I need a little time. You have to see that about me and understand it. Please. I’m begging you not to turn this into an issue.”

“It’s an issue,” Wyatt assured her with a glare. “A huge fucking issue. If you don’t let me go in there and tell her, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” She laughed in disbelief. “What are you going to do, divorce me? You asked me to marry you rashly, and I agreed because I want to be with you. I’m just pleading for some time to handle my mother. That’s it, and then we can go and live in whatever house you wanna live in and—”

Wyatt ran a hand through his hair and dropped his head back against the seat. “Tabitha, I love you, but you have to know you’ve got a few things you have to find a way to deal with. Being totally codependent is one of them.”

“Hello!” She laughed again. “You ain’t perfect, Wyatt. You have the worst temper and—”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to marry me then!”

“I didn’t say that. I’m saying that no one’s perfect. I love you for who you are. Why can’t you do the same for me? I’m trying.”

“Just get out, then.” Wyatt gestured to the door. “You wanna walk in the dark for a half mile, fine, do it. I’m sick of trying to help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves. You know, my father’s right. You are your mother, and I’m the only blind asshole who doesn’t see it.”

Tabitha pulled back. Her eyes filled with tears before she could even find the words to express her absolute horror at the insult. She couldn’t even breathe past the hurt. Desperate for air she fumbled for the handle and opened it. She picked up her purse and stepped out of the car, all the while waiting for Wyatt to say sorry. Her mind just couldn’t accept that he would say something so terrible and not immediately apologize for cutting her that deeply.

Sometimes Wyatt said dumb things, but he never meant them.

She was still expecting him to make it better when he backed up and turned down to the main road. Then she stood there in stunned disbelief, feeling eleven all over again. It was like that afternoon when she’d burned all her stories with the first, terrible realization that heroes weren’t real. Tabitha stayed where she was, crying in the darkness for a good twenty minutes, waiting for Wyatt to come back.

He never did.

* * *

By the time Tabitha got home, she was a mess. She was tired from working and broken from the fight with Wyatt. She stumbled up the steps, hearing the music rattle the walls. She groaned and looked heavenward. God must have a real vendetta against her.

She took a moment to wipe at her face and even reached into her purse for her mirror. She looked at her reflection in the porch light. The horrible part of being a redhead was that crying always showed on her face long after the tears subsided. There was no way to hide it, so she didn’t even try.

That was how badly Wyatt had hurt her.

She didn’t care what anyone on the other side of that door thought. She walked in to find her mother passed out on the couch. Brett and Vaughn were arguing over something in the kitchen. She was hoping they wouldn’t notice her, but with the night she was having, she wasn’t surprised when they did.

“What about Tabitha?” she heard Brett whisper as she walked in. “Will that work?”

Vaughn looked at her for a long moment and then shrugged. “Hell yeah, it’ll work.”

Brett stepped into the living room. “What the heck happened to you?”

“Leave me alone,” she mumbled as she walked toward her room.

“Hey, now.” Brett came forward and grabbed her arm. “Don’t be like that. You can talk to your brother.”

Tabitha stared at him, wondering if she had somehow stepped into an alternate reality. One where Wyatt was mean and Brett was considerate. “What?” she asked in complete disbelief.

“Come on, sit down.” Brett led her over to the other sofa and pushed her into it. “Something happen at work? You get fired?”

“I don’t have any money, Brett,” she said defensively.

“I’m not asking for money. I’m asking why my sister is crying.” Brett sounded so earnest it was still messing with Tabitha’s sensors. He turned around and took the glass Vaughn handed him. “Here, try this. It’ll take the edge off.”

Tabitha shook her head and pushed it away. “I don’t like this stuff.”

“One time in your life won’t kill ya.” Brett laughed.

“No, I suppose not.” Tabitha took the drink and sniffed it, hating the smell of vodka. “I guess I might as well, since he thinks I’m like her anyway.”

“Who thinks that?”

“No one.” Tabitha took a drink and grimaced over the burn. “I don’t like it.”

“You haven’t even tried it.”

Tabitha leaned back against the couch and took another drink. Then she looked to her mother, who was blissfully passed out. Just once it’d be nice to know what it felt like to completely escape from the world that hurt her. The glass wasn’t that full. It was mostly vodka and a little orange juice. She downed it in one shot and then looked at the bottom. “Why’s it grainy? Did you use rotten orange juice?”

“It’s fine.” Brett waved off her concern. “So do you wanna talk?”

“No, I wanna go to bed.” Tabitha stood up and waved off Brett’s offer to help. It was too strange to be dealt with. She’d think about it tomorrow when she could breathe again. “Night.”

“Night, Tab.”

She wanted a shower, but she never got naked when Vaughn was in the house, so she went to bed instead. She fell down against her lumpy mattress and stared at the ceiling, feeling like her world was caving in around her. She was still in utter shock over Wyatt saying what he did. As she pondered it, the ceiling looked like it really was spinning.

Maybe she was falling into an alternate universe.

If she did, it might be a good thing. If everything in the alternate universe was opposite, maybe Tabitha would be lucky. Though, even as she thought about it, she knew she had been lucky. She had a beautiful husband who loved her.

Or she thought so anyway. Maybe it had all been a lie.

The room spun more forcefully, and Tabitha’s stomach lurched. This booze was terrible stuff. She was going to be legitimately sick. She jumped up and then pitched to the ground immediately as if her legs weren’t working. She had to crawl to the door, and she fumbled with the lock, because everything was blurred and uneven. She could barely get her hand on it, let alone get it open.