Who I Am With You (26 page)

The porch light shone, a beacon drawing him in, and he trudged up the steps. By the time he reached the door, Leslie already had it open. Instead of her normal suspicious greeting, she appeared concerned.

“Everything okay?” she asked as she let him in. Her gaze landed on his face. “Oh my God, Duncan, what happened?”

He flinched as she touched the cut on his lip. “Frank and I had a disagreement about whether I should be drunk in the firehouse or not. He won.”

“I see that.” She sighed. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll clean it up.”

“Where are the kids?”

“Asleep. I thought I’d see what was going on first. And by the looks of you, I’m glad I did.”

Duncan leaned against the counter as she reached into the cabinet next to the sink for the first aid kit. After pouring some peroxide on a cloth, she dabbed his lip and the cut on his temple. He hissed at the stinging pain.

“Talk,” she ordered once she was done, moving on to brewing him a cup of coffee. At least he thought it was coffee.

“What is that thing?” he inquired, delaying his explanation and eyeing the funny looking machine on the counter.

“It’s new. It’s called a Kuerig. Brews one serving of coffee at a time. Tea, too. You put a cup in here,” she popped a small plastic tub in the top, “and it comes out here.”

“What’s wrong with the old-fashioned kind?” He accepted the mug and took a tentative sip. “Tastes the same.”

“If you want one cup, why waste a whole pot?”

“Who only drinks one?”

Leslie crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. “You’re stalling.”

He sagged, staring into the dark brown liquid. “Started like it always does. Bad fire. Kid trapped. Couldn’t get to him. It was bad, Les. It rattled me, worse than anything in a long time. I guess my defenses are out of whack, or I was actually sober. Who knows. I self-destructed, walked off my shift.” Her eyebrows rose. “Yeah. Hours passed, pills, booze, and then I went to Olivia’s. I can’t talk about that part yet. Anyway, ended up at Ground Zero, at Ten House.”

Understanding dawned. “The memorial?”

“Do you know I haven’t been there? Avoided it. Only this time, I was drawn to that wall.” He paused, searching for the right explanation. “It was like going to confession, laying my sins on an altar. I let go of my guilt, right there in front of those 343 names, and said goodbye.”

His sentence ended in a half-sob. Irritated at the waterworks, which apparently were never going to stop, Duncan turned and set his mug down. Placing his hands on the counter he leaned over, unable to reign in the tears. A few seconds later, he felt Leslie’s soft touch on his back, familiar and comforting.

“It was a long time coming,” she whispered.

He nodded, unable to speak yet. The things he’d said at the memorial returned, as did his conversation about amends. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he spun on Leslie, desperate to say what he needed to before it got buried again.

“I hurt you, for so long, and words are inadequate, I know that, but I’m sorry. The guilt I felt grew too big to deal with and I reacted in negative ways, avoiding the effects of my actions. I’m a pathetic coward, but I want to change. Need to.” He licked his lips. “I’m afraid of what will happen to me if I don’t, of where I’m headed. I treated the three of you like dirt and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for it. I promise.”

Her gray eyes spilled over, chin quivering. “You’re right. Words are useless, but they matter to me.” She pawed at her wet cheeks. “I see it in your face, in the way you’ve been with the kids lately. Even now, you aren’t bogged down as if the weight of the world is on your shoulders. I believe you, but actions will show me you’re serious this time, Duncan. Be better for them.”

“I’m going to try, for you, too. I’m going to try,” he repeated.

She nodded, sniffing and drying her tears. “Do you want to talk to the kids?”

“No. It’s late. I’ll spend a little time with each of them soon, explain some things. They have a right to know why I am the way I am. Unless you think that’s a bad idea?”

“No. I mean, keeping us in the dark hasn’t helped, so maybe this new resolution of yours will.”

“I hope so. Can I go look in on them?”

“Of course.”

Duncan ambled down the hall, stopping first at Adam’s door. His son was sprawled across his bed, one leg hanging off the edge, exactly how Duncan slept. He blinked his stinging eyes. Not wanting to disturb his son, he slunk out and moved on to Amanda, burrowed deep into a thin pink blanket. His heart ached with pride and love, these amazing human beings were his. By some stroke of fate they were living, breathing proof he possessed a trace of goodness in him. How dare he despair about his life? Flashes of Amanda and the day she was born broke through. She’d been tiny, purple, and screaming. Duncan remembered feeling invincible, like he’d been the richest man alive. Same with Adam. His future had opened ahead of him. The guy trips they’d take, tossing a baseball in the backyard, teaching him to tune the engine of his first car. A boy! Every man wanted a son to carry on his legacy. Where had that father gone?

He turned, catching sight of Leslie at the end of the hall smiling tenderly at him. His heart swelled, his palms grew damp, and the feeling that he was home overwhelmed him. Duncan was torn between two versions of himself; the faithful, loving father and husband he was before, and the man his guilt and drug and alcohol dependency twisted him into. What scared him most was each of those men cared deeply for two different women. He walked into the living room, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep from touching her, and cleared his throat.

“I should get going.”

“Will you be okay?” she asked.

All he could do was shrug. “Who knows.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.”

He blinked at the desperation in her statement and tried again. “I will be.”

They shared another look and before he got lost in the longing emanating from Leslie’s face, he turned and left. His next stop was the Upper East Side and Olivia, to try and mend their fragile relationship. Shame burned a hole in his gut as he remembered how blitzed he’d been. Jesus, he was such a stupid ass. He caught a whiff of himself and cringed. There wasn’t time for a shower, setting his life right came first.

Olivia wasn’t home when he arrived and worry seized him. Had Catherine died in the middle of his personal revelation? He’d never forgive himself for laying his issues on her already full shoulders. Settling into a chair in the foyer, he prepared to wait and prayed he wasn’t too late.

O
livia was exhausted when she returned to her apartment at a little after one in the morning. After Simon left she had stayed at her grandmother’s, sitting beside the bed until it was impossible to keep her eyes open any longer. Other than quick naps, she’d been holding vigil for over twenty-four hours. She craved a shower, food, a couple hours sleep, and a moment of peace to sit down and make a list for her bakery—equipment and menus, maybe sketch some design ideas. Excitement erased her desire for anything else. Her own business. She could not wait to get started.

The elevator doors opened to her apartment, revealing Duncan slumped in a chair in the entryway. Asleep, he looked so peaceful and handsome, nothing remained of his sneer or the crazed expression he wore last time she saw him. Olivia’s guard went up and she held her breath, afraid to discover which version of Duncan would wake. She cared for him, but it wasn’t enough, not when he compromised her own sobriety. Residual anger from their earlier encounter hummed under her skin, a reminder of what she’d almost done.

He stirred, opening those captivating green eyes. At first, happiness lit his face, making him look years younger, only to vanish and be replaced by guilt. He stood quickly, putting distance between them and she hardened herself against instant forgiveness. She had to be strong.

“Sorry. I, uh, fell asleep waiting for you. What time is it?”

“One-fifteen.” Olivia got a better glimpse of his face and noticed the bruising under his eye and along his jaw, the cut on his lip and temple. “Apparently your destructiveness didn’t stop with me.”

“Went looking for a fight. Found one with Frank. He kicked my sorry ass.”

“Which you needed.”

“I did.” He rubbed his forehead. “Things got bad at work and I couldn’t deal. Took some pills and walked out. Drank a bottle of something, maybe two. Then I came to see you. We both know how that went.” He frowned. “I never should have said those things to you, Liv.”

“You hurt me,” she whispered, her voice hitching.

“I know.”

“No, you can’t. You have no idea what your words did to me and what I left this apartment in search of.”

Realization caused his expression to fall. “No.”

She nodded, swallowing her shame and fumbling with her keys, looking anywhere but at him.

“Liv...”

“Thankfully, I stopped myself. I didn’t find anyone dealing. I didn’t get high,” she said fiercely, storming past him into the kitchen.

“What can I say?” he pleaded, following her. “I am sorry, more than you realize.”

“Don’t
say
anything! Do. Actions matter. Deeds. My grandmother is dying and you’re throwing your life away like it means nothing. It’s such a waste!”

The force of her speech stunned her, but it felt wonderful to let her rage fly. He gaped at her, obviously not expecting her to be so angry. Good. Maybe it’d wake him up.

“Can I tell you where I went, what happened to me?”

“No. Why does it always have to be about you?”

“What are you talking about?” She watched him cross his arms over his chest, instantly defensive.

“I told you I went searching for drugs. Does that not compute? Do you even remember what you said to me?” Her words wavered with frustration and she gripped the counter, turning her knuckles white.

Duncan pursed his lips. “A lot of it is still fuzzy.”

“Convenient. Let me enlighten you, then.” She mimicked his stance, folding her arms. “You begged me to join you in getting blitzed, that being sober was a terrible waste. When I suggested a meeting instead, you called me a pathetic drug addict and a loser.” He flinched. “I felt low and dark and when I feel low and dark, I want to get high. Oh, and you mentioned how you wished you’d died with your fellow firefighters when the towers collapsed, that you did nothing of value that day, including saving me.”

“I remember that.” He stared at the floor, jaw clenching and unclenching. “It’s not what I meant, though.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly stick around to clarify.”

Duncan nodded, not saying anything for a couple of minutes. His expression hardened and he opened and closed his mouth before shaking his head and turning towards the elevator.

“Oh, fine. Leave. Don’t respond. Give up.”

He spun back to her. “You don’t want me to talk.”

“That’s not what I said.” She shook her head. “I want you to react. To help yourself. Own your mistakes.”

Grief lined his face and, instead of yelling or storming out, he stood his ground and met her gaze. “That’s what I tried to tell you, I did take action. I went to Ground Zero.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “There’s a firehouse with a memorial for the firefighters. I stood there, crying and ranting, telling all of the fallen goodbye. When I was done, I felt, I don’t know, new, reborn. I can’t explain it.”

She refused to soften towards him. Although, she did notice he didn’t appear as shrunken from the weight of the past and his stare was missing its typical shadows. He looked haggard but also freer. Maybe he did turn a corner. “Rock bottom sucks, doesn’t it? Be thankful you never fell as far as I did.”

“Tell me.”

“Why?”

“I showed you mine.”

“I lived for heroin. I didn’t eat. Sleep was erratic. Happiness a thing of the past.” She hugged herself against the encroaching nightmares. “You wouldn’t have recognized me. I didn’t recognize myself; scary skinny, my veins were a mess, I could barely walk across the room without gasping for air, meaning my heart had taken too much abuse. Anyway, one night I used too much and died.”

“Damn. Olivia.” He had nothing else to add, he simply stood there, staring.

“It scared me sober. I didn’t want to die a coward. Somewhere inside of me, the urge to fight manifested. I wage war against myself every day and I had even less to live for than you do with your family.” She let the hot anger back in. “Do you understand why I’m telling you this?”

“Yes, and I’m ready to fight.”

“I want to believe you.”

“So do it.” He stepped forward then paused, uncertainty shining in his eyes. “Help me. Give me a reason to walk in the light.”

“That’s not how it works. I can’t be your reason. I won’t.” She shoved a hand through her greasy hair, frustrated he didn’t get it. “You have to do this for you. Because
you
want to change. I am not strong enough to carry both of us. Don’t ask that of me.”

“I didn’t! But does it hurt to consider you inspiration? To use your bravery as a compass?”

“No.” She sighed. “It’s a fine line to straddle, though. Addiction is sneaky. It changes forms, tricks you into thinking you’ve beaten it. When I feel close to slipping, I remember dying, the days after, throwing up so violently I puked blood. The fear of returning to that moment gives me clarity.” Olivia lowered some of her defenses and reached for his hands, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. “Think about the last eighteen hours. Use it as motivation.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not! That’s your problem, you shy away when life gets hard and stick your head in the sand. Face your demons, Duncan. Kick the hell out of them. It’s the only way to beat this.”

“Don’t you think I’m trying? I’m not like you.”

“But you are. I deal with the same shit you do! I was there. I saw the same horrors you did.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Dammit, I’m trying to help you because I worry I’m falling for you and it scares me to death.”

All the air was sucked from the room and Olivia held her breath, watching him with wide eyes. She hadn’t meant to say it, not now, not in the middle of an argument and when she felt so unsure of everything. Duncan tensed and she waited.

“You are?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yes.” Her chin trembled. “I’m afraid to, but I am.” Going with her gut, she laid her palm on his chest, feeling his heavy breathing. “In light of that, and what happened earlier, we have to slow down. Neither of us are ready.”

“Are, are you ending this?” His stricken expression cut her deeply, but she didn’t let it sway her.

“Slowing down does not mean breaking up. I want a relationship with you, we just have to be careful. I hate to put it this way, but if you can’t set yourself on a healthier path, I can’t be with you. I’ve worked too hard to throw it all away.”

Duncan placed his hands on her shoulders, giving her an earnest stare. “I will try. I want to take control of my life. I want to live. I saw Leslie before I came here, told her the exact same thing, begged forgiveness.”

“Can you repair the relationship you have with her?”

“I have no clue.” Ghosts flickered in his gaze, there and gone before Olivia had a chance to process the dull ache they awakened in her gut. “I want her and I to be friends, for the kid’s sake, for history’s sake.”

“Good. I’m sure it will make life easier for Adam and Amanda.”

“It’s a start.”

“It is.” She led him to the couch and, as she sunk into the soft material, exhaustion hit her full force. She yawned, not retreating when Duncan sat beside her and tucked her into his side.

“How’s Catherine?”

“Not great.” Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. It’d been such an emotional day. “It’s touch and go, there isn’t much time.”

“I won’t bug out on you again. Not when you need me most.”

Again, doubt flared to life inside her and she hated it. She nearly asked him if she could lean on him, when a memory surfaced.

“What did you say to Catherine, about me working at VDB?”

“I wondered if that would come back to bite me in the ass.” Duncan shifted, avoiding her gaze. “She was talking about me finding peace and moving on and all that. I went with a gut instinct and asked if she was ready to let you do the same.”

“I get why you did it, but it wasn’t really your place. You don’t even know the woman.”

“I respect her tough personality and you deserve to do what makes you happy. I’m not sorry I said it, because it’s true. She needed to know.”

Olivia nodded, swallowing her annoyance. It was done. “She cut me loose.”

“What do you mean? Catherine fired you?”

“No.” Olivia chuckled, astonished it came so freely. “She wants me to follow my heart, give my dreams a chance.”

His mouth popped open. “As in not working for the company anymore?”

“I’m going to open a bakery, once I find someone to take over the rehab project, and I’ll use my building, the first of Dad’s project.”

“That’s great. I’m proud of you, and of Catherine.” He embraced her, rubbing her back. “You do realize that since your bakery is in Midtown, I’m just a few blocks away and Frank will be in every chance he gets. Hell, we’ll have to roll him out on a trolley.”

She snuggled into him, letting contentment wash over her. Things weren’t healed, she still hurt from the way he’d destructed and a small piece of her cried a warning, saying this breakthrough of his wouldn’t last.

“Don’t get mad at me, but I have a question. How do you feel about going to a meeting with me in the morning.” Olivia tensed, staring at the windows, afraid to see stubbornness cloud his face and realizing he might not be as ready to change as he claimed.

“I work in the morning. At seven.” His tone was flat, unreadable.

“They start as early as six and I know there are ones in Midtown. I’ve gone to a few.”

He remained silent and the passing seconds deflated any positive she had taken from the last half hour. Until he said, “I guess.”

Olivia turned to face him. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“It’s not exactly something I am looking forward to,” he grumbled.

“Hey, I was taken against my will to my first one by a brute of a nurse named LaShonda. There is a silver lining here, McMurray.”

He flashed a grin. “Will you be my nurse?”

“Could be arranged.” She sighed, leaning against his chest with relief. One minefield down. Hopefully he was as willing in the morning.

“How’s work?” Duncan asked.

“Press conference tomorrow,” she muttered. “And with next to zero sleep. Simon and I were too preoccupied with Catherine to reschedule, so we’ll keep it short and sweet.”

“Oh, crap, that’s right. Are you ready for it?”

“Over-prepared is more like it.” She sighed, gliding over the fact he’d forgotten. “There’s always the possibility a reporter has dug up my past. I worry, but I’m ready too.”

“I can be there. If you want.”

“Your offer means the world to me, but I got this. Besides, strangers saying ugly things about me might not be the best way to test your newfound resolve.” She grinned, hoping he appreciated her jest.

He did, chuckling. “Point taken.” Sobering, he said, “You need to sleep. I’ll let you get to bed.”

Before he could stand, and she had a chance to listen to the voice telling her not to, Olivia said, “No. Stay.”