Bullets & Bonfires

Brilliant.

At least she finally helps Liam. She sets

up his hand for the doctor, then gently disinfects the area around the wound while subtly shoving her boobs in his face.

“How’s work?” she asks him.

“Fine,” he answers in a clipped tone that doesn’t invite follow-up questions.

Liam winces and I lose it. “Can’t you give him some Advil or something?” I snap, since it doesn’t seem like Nurse-Can’t-Take-A-Hint plans to do anything other than stare at Liam and give her push-up bra a workout.

“Sure.” She settles her hand on his shoulder. “Unless you want something stronger?” she asks.

He reaches up with his good hand and removes her hand from his shoulder before answering. “Can you see how much longer the doctor will be?”

That seems to be enough to remind her to do her damn job and she hurries out of the room.

“Did you know she worked here?” I ask as soon as she’s gone.

Liam’s eyes close briefly. “Yes.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to come here?”

“I was hoping she wouldn’t be working tonight.”

“She was working it all right.”

He huffs out a laugh, but otherwise ignores my comment. “Come here,” he says, holding out his uninjured hand to me.

I step closer and wrap my hand around his. “How’s your finger?” I ask because there really isn’t much more to say.

“Hurts.”

The door swings open. “How are you, Mr. Hollister?” the doctor greets.

Finally.

Liam grits through the shots to numb his hand, barely flinching. When the doctor pulls on the hook, trying to determine the best way to remove it, I sway on my feet.

“Bree? You all right?” Liam squeezes my hand, forcing me to concentrate on his face. “I’m okay, baby. I can’t feel a thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go sit down. You look pale.”

For once I’m thankful for his bossiness and take a seat.

I manage not to embarrass myself by passing out and we don’t run into Nurse Linda again before leaving the clinic.

“I’m sorry our day was ruined,” Liam says when we’re on our way home.

“You’re sorry?” I nod at his finger wrapped tight in gauze. “You took a hook through your flesh and you’re apologizing to me?”

“Let me make it up to you.”

Another kiss would be a good start but there’s no way I’m suggesting it.

“The ice cream shop near Vince’s is open. Want to stop there for a cone?” he asks.

“I’m not five anymore, Liam. You can’t cheer me up with an ice cream cone.”

“Well, it will cheer me up,” he says, wiggling his injured hand at me.

I take the exit that leads to the small ice cream shack and we pull into the parking lot right before closing. After stepping out of the truck and swatting away a swarm of mosquitos, I’m taken back to when Vince and I used to scrounge for enough change at the bottom of my mother’s purse to walk down here to buy ice cream on the hottest summer nights.

“Are you all right?” Liam asks, brushing hair off my face.

I force out a laugh. “Just remembering all the times Vince and I came here when we were kids.”

“You still like chocolate sprinkles on yours?”

“Nah. I’m too old for sprinkles.”

“You’re never too old for sprinkles.”

I trail behind him to the window, where a bored teenager slides the glass open and taps her pencil against her green notepad. “We’re about to close,” she informs us.

“Two small twist cones,” Liam orders.

She rattles off a total much higher than the change Vince and I used to carry here would’ve ever covered. “Pricey,” I say after the girl closes the window to go fill our order.

Liam shrugs.

“Bree, is that you?” A high-pitched voice calls out. I barely have a chance to turn when a girl barrels into me and squeals. “I thought so. How are you?”

“Lucy? Oh my God. I’m fine. How are you?”

Her gaze ping-pongs between Liam and me. “I always knew you two would end up together.”

I almost choke and we haven’t even been handed our ice cream cones yet.

“We’re not…we’re hanging out. I just came home from college.”

“Oh, that’s right. Weren’t you dating…” Her voice trails off as recognition sinks in. Great. Someone else who read about Chad’s arrest in the paper. Even though they didn’t use my name in any of the articles, it’s not that difficult to figure out who the “live-in girlfriend” he pummeled is.

“We broke up.”

“Good…I mean. Oh. Well, have fun.” She smiles nervously and tosses a bunch of napkins in the garbage before jogging back to her car.

Liam hands me my ice cream, but I’ve lost my interest. He seems to understand my shift in mood and steers me over to one of the picnic benches near his truck.

We eat our cones in silence. When I can’t finish mine, Liam takes it and chucks it in the trash can. I’m shaking and on the verge of tears when he returns.

When are these feelings going to go away?

“Talk to me, Bree,” he says quietly.

Across the parking lot there’s a family with two small children who have more ice cream in their hair than in their mouths. Otherwise we’re alone.

“I’m so ashamed,” I whisper, unable to keep the words inside for another second.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling my body against his and rests his chin on the top of my head. One of his big hands strokes over my back in a calming gesture. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

I pull back enough to tip my head and search his face for the truth. “I let it happen.”

A stony hardness enters his eyes. “You didn’t let it happen, Bree.”

“But I did.” I bury my face against his shirt again. “You were right. This wasn’t the first time. I made excuses for him. He swore he was sorry and he’d never do it again. Said he loved me so much…” My voice trails off because I realize how stupid and gullible I sound.

Bree’s anguish scrapes over my heart, leaving me raw and ready to explode. “He’s a manipulator. I’m sure in his twisted head he thought he loved you, Bree.” The words burn like ground glass in my throat, but they’re probably true and I think she needs to hear them.

“I hated it here so much. Growing up. Everyone always looked down on us.”

My body stiffens with her words. I remember how all she used to talk about was getting out of this town and never coming back. “I didn’t.”

“No. You were always a good friend. Are a good friend. To Vince. And to me.” She adds that last part almost as an afterthought.

“I wish I’d been a better friend to you.”

She shakes her head. “I believed him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. He always made me feel like somehow it was my fault because I made him so crazy and jealous.” She stops and looks up at me. “I know how stupid that sounds.”

“It’s not stupid at all. You’re going to be a psychologist. You know how these things work.”

“Exactly!” she explodes and I realize too late that was the wrong thing to say. “I should’ve recognized the signs, the cycles we went through. The tension, the blowups, the apologies and promises. And the whole time I just kept telling myself it wasn’t that bad, or he didn’t mean it or if I was a better girlfriend it wouldn’t have happened.”

Listening to her describe what she’s been through leaves me somewhere between anger and anguish. Between wanting to comfort her and wanting to kill Chad. She may have glossed over the details, but I’ve taken enough classes on how to handle domestic violence situations to know what each of those phases entails.

“I can’t stand being here,” she says in a harsh whisper. “Did you see how Lucy couldn’t wait to get away from me?”

“Do you think you stayed with Chad so you wouldn’t have to come home?” I ask and brace myself for her a

nswer.

“Maybe there was part of me that thought coming home meant I was a failure. Besides, Vince and I don’t seem to get along anymore.”

Something I’m afraid is my fault. After the night he caught us kissing, things were tense in our friendship until Bree left for school. Then we never spoke about the incident again. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

She ignores the apology. “Lucy won’t be the only one. People always judge the woman. ‘Why’d she stay for so long? Maybe she liked it. The first time a man hit me, I’d leave. You can’t help someone who won’t help herself.’ I’ve heard them all. Hell, I’ve had those same thoughts.”

Guilt threatens to crush me. “Bree, that’s not what I…I’m sorry about the stuff I said the other night…about everything. I’d never judge you like that. I don’t judge you at all.”

“Not even a little?”

“No. I’m mad at myself. I wish I’d known. I hate that you went through any of that by yourself.”

“One of the first cops who questioned me asked what I did to piss Chad off so badly.”

My blood boils. “Who?” I snap.

She gives me a small smile. “I can’t remember his name.”

“I’m not surprised that happened. I encounter guys in the department all the time who have zero empathy or compassion for the people they’re supposed to serve and protect.” I’m hesitant to use the word victim, because I don’t want her to think that’s how I see her. “But it doesn’t matter. No one has the right to judge you. You dealt with something horrible no one should have to go through. You’re out.”

I wish she’d nod or say something more reassuring than mmhmm.

“Chad’s in jail where he belongs. There is no reason you can’t go anywhere you want with your head held high.”

Finally, she nods slowly, trying to take in my words.

“I should’ve left sooner.”

“Should’ves do us no good, Bree.”

“My mother always said I was so stubborn, and I’d end up hurting myself more in the long run because of it.”

Her mother cared more about her boyfriends than her children, but I keep that observation to myself. “I think what she meant was you’re tenacious.”

“I doubt that.” Her mouth pulls into a half-smile. “She didn’t hand out many compliments.”