Command (Storm MC 6)

I rested my elbows on the counter and then placed my face in my hands. “I’m working two jobs plus looking out for my sick neighbours.”

She shrugged. “So call in sick.”

“I can’t. One of the jobs is at my Mum’s café and the other job is at one of Storm’s clubs. They need all the help they can get, so I can’t let them down.” As the words fell out of my mouth, I began crying.

Geez.

Wiping at the tears, I apologised, “Sorry about this. I have no idea why I’m crying.” Embarrassment at breaking down in front of a stranger filled me, but the more I tried to hide my tears, the more they came.

Scarlett didn’t move to console me. She simply remained where she stood across the island bench from me, and said, “You must have needed to get them out. Maybe you should talk about it.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Sometimes it’s good to talk to a complete stranger about shit. I find they don’t have the preconceived thoughts and feelings about you that your friends and family do.”

She’s right.

“Oh, God.” I took a deep breath through my tears and then let my thoughts tumble out of my mouth. “I feel like I’m only just holding everything together at the moment, including myself. And it feels like if one thing gave way, everything else would crumble with it. But I need to keep it together for Scott…” My voice trailed off as I reached for the tissue she was holding out to me.

“What’s this bullshit about holding it together for Scott? He’s your boyfriend, right?”

“Yes.”

“So why does he expect you to hold it all together for him?”

“No, he doesn’t…I’m not explaining this very well…Scott’s got a lot on with his club at the moment and I don’t want to burden him any more than I already have.” Between my sore throat and foggy mind, I was finding it difficult to explain myself.

Scarlett bent at the waist and lent her forearms on the counter. Her voice softened from the hardness it had previously held, and her eyes glossed over with a new softness as she said, “You know, sometimes we tell ourselves that our loved ones expect us to say and do things a certain way or that they expect stuff from us that they really don’t. From the little you’ve told me about Scott, I bet he’s the kind of guy who would prefer you focus on getting yourself better, rather than running yourself ragged trying to do all these things.”

I stared at her for a long moment before baring my soul. “We lost a baby a little while ago and I’ve really let him down. I don’t want to let him down any more,” I whispered.

Her forehead crinkled in a frown. “How do you figure you let him down by losing a baby? It’s not like you chose to lose the baby.”

/> Shaking my head, I rushed to explain. “No, I didn’t let him down by losing the baby, but I shut him out. He gave me all the support I needed and I pushed him away. And on top of that, I wasn’t there for him.” I paused as memories of what Scott and I had been through flooded my mind. I really did let him down. “He lost a baby, too, and I wasn’t there for him.” My voice cracked and a sob escaped.

As more tears fell, she remained silent, and I appreciated her lack of rushing to console me. It was what everyone I knew did whenever tears threatened – they tried to hug me and tell me everything would be okay. I wanted to scream at them that as much as a hug and a few words of encouragement were appreciated, they would never fix the hole in my heart. Sometimes, the only thing you could do was live through the pain – let it take its grip, let it almost kill you, and then when you thought you couldn’t take another step forward, you had to find the courage to do just that. Sometimes, you had to let the pain heal you in the only way it could – by showing you how much strength you had buried deep. Pain could wound like a motherfucker, but it could also teach you what you were made of.

And yet, as much as my pain had taught me, I still struggled to let go of my guilt.

Scarlett finally spoke when my tears began to subside. “When we fuck up in life, we can’t go back and have a do-over. But what we can do is decide never to do that shit again, and then do everything in our power to do it right from then on. And, Harlow? That’s a shitload of guilt you’re carrying around with you, and I bet it’s not only hurting you, but also your relationship with Scott. You need to get the fuck over that guilt, reposition your lady-balls and move the fuck on. Stop wallowing in that because it’s making you be less than what you are.”

Well, shit…

I raised my brows at her. “Do you always give such blunt and honest advice?”

“Yes. What’s the point in giving advice that’s not honest?” Her eyes didn’t leave mine; it was like she was challenging me to argue with her, but I couldn’t fault her logic.

“True.” I knew she was right, but putting her advice into action was a whole other story, especially when I had another thing on my mind. “My period is late,” I finally admitted the one thing I hadn’t told anyone yet; the one thing I wasn’t sure to be happy or concerned about.

She reached for the mug of tea she’d slid in front of me a moment ago and tipped its contents down the sink before asking, “How late?”

I frowned. “Why did you throw that away?”

“You can’t drink that if you’re pregnant; I don’t know if it would harm the baby or not. How late are you?”

“A week. My period has always been on time, even after my miscarriage it got back on track straight away.”

She sighed like she was frustrated with me. “So you either need to go to the doctor or take a test.” Even her voice held a frustrated tone.