A Stormy Night Pt. 13

I'm fucked.

Ultimately, I decide to keep on walking, draping the jacket around my shoulders as I steel myself against the taunting wind and stinging raindrops, praying that the worst won't come. I don't know how much time goes by before light catches me from behind, astonishing me. I whip around to see twin beams heading towards me, and vast relief pours over me at the possibility of salvation. The car slows down just as I notice how astoundingly low it is, and when it rolls to a stop beside me its chassis and color violently punch me in the gut as they help me recognize the car. The passenger window slides down, but I don't need to bend over to see who the driver is.

Shit! Fuck! Fuck me! Let me go to hell instead!

"Hi, do you need a ride?" Shawn calls out, not yet realizing that it's me.

I keep quiet, unable to process what's actually going on, my heart dropping to my stomach.

"Did you hear me?" he asks, concern etched in his voice.

I keep on staring blankly through the window, seeing only his right arm. When it disappears I hear the driver's door open and then he steps out, facing me just as another bolt of lightning makes the sky come alive. In that moment he looks at me with confusion that quickly changes into pure shock. The flash goes away, leaving only the car's headlights that shed light on one side of his body, and his expression changes again so that his eyes have widened infinitely and his mouth is gaping wide open, mirroring my own stunned expression. We stand there, staring at each other, questioning whether it was random chance or destined fate that brought us here at this exact point in time and location. All my mind can register is that he's here. He's really, really here, in the flesh, like a knight in shining armor, prepared to rescue me from my dreadful situation. I ponder over what I should do: accept his offer despite the hideous way we parted last time or carry on walking regardless of the dangerously high probability of me succumbing to these hazardous weather conditions.

"Cassandra..." he says just clear enough to be heard over the noisy commotion, and the sound of him saying my name like that nearly demolishes me all over again.

This is officially the shittiest night of my pathetic life.

Knowing what I must do, my body starts to turn on its own accord, my legs restarting the lengthy painful trek back home, my brain muddled yet hyperaware of the tiniest details all at once. Even with all that earlier reflection on not being able to face life without him, I can't be with him either. I don't know... It feels as if I'm caught in the middle of two opposing forces: the knowledge that we can't ever be together again and the understanding that I'm nothing without him.

"Cassandra!" he yells but I keep on going, staring straight ahead.

Moments later a hand clamps down on my arm, halting my progress, and he pulls me back so that I have to look at him. I can make out the contours of half his face: a dark eye, a side of his nose, one ear and a portion of his mouth which is set into a hard line.

"Sandra, what're you doing? You know you can't be out in this storm. Let me take you home."

I shake my head vigorously and wrench—well, attempt to wrench myself free from his grasp in spite of the fact that my body doesn't have the strength to do so. He tightens his grip, determined to keep me here, just like the last time we saw each other.

"Look, I understand that you don't want to be close to me in any way," he says with gentleness, which automatically causes my heart to contract harshly for him. How I want to be with him in every way possible. "But it's not safe out here if you walk. Please. Just let me drive you home. That's all you have to do."

I stare at his half-lit face, seeing all the anxiety in the world displayed on it just as how I can hear it thick in his voice, and I know that I don't have the will to turn him down.

"Okay," I ultimately agree, and sense the gratitude that washes over him when his grip on me slackens straightaway.

He lets me go totally, and we walk back towards his car. I sit on the passenger seat whilst he goes to the driver's, and we cautiously head for my home. After some moments, he reaches for the heater, cranking it up to its maximum power. As soon as the hot welcoming air starts gusting against my body, I truly notice the severity of my trembling. It's to the point where my lungs can't draw in a decent breath, goosebumps are threatening to permanently live on my skin and my teeth are constantly chattering. Despite him being in the rain for a minute or two, he's visibly soaking wet too, yet I know that he didn't turn on the heater for himself in the least.

He's still so thoughtful, which irritates yet also flatters me.

We don't utter a single word to each other during the ride and I stare dead ahead so that I can't see his face. I twist my purse round and round in my hands, rub my bare feet against each other and endlessly remind myself to keep on breathing. I've never felt this much friction between us before (okay, I have but in a way I would rather not dwell on) and truthfully, it's killing me slowly inside. A portion of my mind frustratingly concentrates on his company, and I start to imagine his gifted body being the one that's warming me up right now, like how it has done in so many countless ways so many countless times...

Shit! I've started again! I'm just unquestionably, outright useless, with or without him. At this moment, I'm just thankful that home is not so far away now.

Then, without warning, headlights and taillights of a few cars force Shawn to reduce speed as we get closer. When we're behind the last car I see that it's really a line to do a U-turn. What the hell is going on?

Just as I think that, a man wearing a reflective jacket jogs towards us, and Shawn rolls down his window midway to be able to communicate with him.

"Sorry, folks, but you'll have to turn around. There has been a serious accident," the man shouts, the news instantly prickling me with dread.

"Are the people okay?" Shawn asks the same question that's burning in my mind.

"Most of them are. Only one is being transported to the hospital right at this moment. We're just having difficulty with the cars."

"Okay, we understand. Thanks."

Then he walks away and Shawn slides up the window, sealing us up with a hell lot more unease. In the corner of my eye, I observe his hands visibly increase their hold on the steering wheel, and I feel more than set to die. I'm not blaming the people who were involved in the accident in any way, of course, but I really do feel like the planet is going to extraordinary lengths just so that we can be stuck together for longer.

But why? Everything we had is over. Why is it trying to make it seem like otherwise yet it's the one that enlightened us about how there could be nothing more between us?

"I can take you to a hotel if you like," he suddenly suggests, jolting me out of my unnerving thoughts.

"Oh, umm... yeah. That would be nice. Thank you," I say tensely, just wanting to be away from him as soon as possible.

When we get to the apex of the turn, I get exactly what the safety worker meant by 'difficulty'. Four cars are wrecked, and I mean wrecked. It looks like a couple of them were involved in a head-on collision, perhaps because one or both somehow lost traction on the slippery road, and the other two crashed into them before it was too late so then one is now lying on its side, all four of them quite attached to one car and blocking most of the road. Emergency services are filling up the rest of the road and even going over onto the side streets, taking care of the cars, trying to clear the path before the storm really settles in.

It's a miracle that only one person is injured. If this was at a different location, and there was a dumb-ass girl walking around the area too, things could have been much deadlier. I shudder at that notion.

We start going back the way we came from, driving much slower since the clouds have let the rain loose. In fact, I can't see anything beyond a yard even with the car's brilliant headlight beams. I really can't see how this can get any wor—

Something pings off the windshield, causing both of us to jump in fright. Another follows soon after, then another, and in the span of a breath a barrage of relatively large hail strike at the car, making this already problematic drive ten times worse.

Oh Christ, why?!

Shawn leans forward to better focus on where we're going but I still sense the overwhelming panic exuding out of him steadily. Frankly, I'm also shit-scared about this. The hotel is a long ways away, so if we carry on we'll probably be next on the car accidents list. I clutch my purse with so much force that my fingernails nearly rip through the material. There's only one reasonable action we can take. I can't let my irrationality and selfishness put our lives at risk.

"We can go to your house," I murmur almost inaudibly, fidgeting from dismay and confusing thrill. His head whips around to face me for a split second before turning his attention back on the road, noticeably more than taken aback by my offer. "It's the best option right now since it's quite close."

A number of stifling heartbeats go by as he tries to consume what I've just said. Finally, he says, "Okay. If you really want to."

I detect the plentiful relief coating his voice—and maybe hope?—despite his self-possessed words and then realize that he was also stressed because he was thinking of the same thing but was too afraid to ask me. Well, now that damn uncomfortable strain has skyrocketed in the car, the charge between us almost unbearably tangible, causing every fiber in my body to react by contracting so hard they might as well be made out of stone.

After an excruciating seven minutes that terrifies the life out of me, we finally arrive at Shawn's place. He presses a button to open the gate and we head for the protection of his garage. I let out a long-held sigh in unison with him as the car comes to a halt, and we pause for a moment at that strange synchronized act before exiting the car, again in harmony as we open the doors. Oh great. Now we're doing things as if we're one (which, at least to me, we are). How embarrassing and awkward can this get?

He leads me through the kitchen then living room, turning on lights on the way then stops at the foot of the staircase, and I note the muscles in his back ripple as he contemplates what to do with me next.

In the end, he states, "I'll get you some dry clothes—if you want."

"Thank you," I say quietly, my voice edgy, so many bittersweet memories raiding my brain simultaneously.

"Make yourself at home," he utters before going upstairs, practically dashing at sonic speed.

I just stand still for some time, listing the ironic similarities between this situation and the first time we met. Person caught in a treacherous storm, check. Person offered refuge from treacherous storm, check. Person being given a room and clothes for the night, check. Now what's left is cake, a little bit of flirting, tumbling down the stairs, and the rest is history.

Instead of cringing at that, my body reacts so differently by constricting all the muscles deep within my belly in such a delightfully unexpected manner that a moan escapes my mouth before I can stop it. What in the actual hell and heaven and earth and everywhere else is wrong with me?! How is it possible for me to be so attracted to him even though he more than just broke my heart? I'm finally clinically insane, that's the only decent explanation as to why. I hope the night will be over soon so that I can go home and reflect upon the fragments that structure my life. I just need to survive this night. That's it. That's all I can do for now.

Oh, I pray I have the strength to do it.

Hesitantly, I climb up the stairs, still gripping my shoes and purse in my hands, and then the lights go out. Okay, now I'm a hundred per cent certain that karma is getting its kicks in handing me this shit. Taking out my phone, I immediately freeze at the quantity of missed calls I have from my parents and Jake. Oh, it doesn't matter whether I'll survive tonight—when I get home I'm very much dead still. Sighing as I turn on the flashlight, I arrive at the top of the stairs eventually, see the three available guestrooms and make my way towards one of them, really, really doing all I can to pay no attention to Shawn's bedroom. But as soon as I'm right outside his door my feet are incapable of taking another step forward or backward as if caught in quick-dry glue, giving me only one option to choose from. In my peripheral vision I don't see him anywhere, so I turn in slow motion to face it and nearly pass out right away. The view of his bed causes my legs to wobble like jelly as I eye the covers that are strewn about the whole room, innumerable recollections of what we did in it engulfing me. I step inside the room (I know, I'm done) and evaluate the place. It's truthfully quite a mess despite there being very few possessions of his. A suitcase is just lying by the foot of his bed open, clothes spilling out of it and many more just haphazardly scattered about as if a cyclone or two passed by. This really isn't like him at all; he's actually quite tidy and orderly, so witnessing the catastrophe that is his bedroom is something else for me.

Shawn then steps out of the walk-in closet holding some clothes and his phone which amplifies the brightness in the room combined with mine and just about drops everything when he spots me. For a second he just stares at me, looking as awfully disoriented as I feel, before saying reluctantly, "Umm... you can... change in a... guestroom."

He approaches me at a slow pace as if I'm a scared little creature that has been maneuvered into a corner and extends the clothes out to me but I don't make a move to take them, staring at him dead in the eye. I can't deny it anymore. He's still so goddamn sexy! His clothes cling to his tall, brawny physique like a second skin as it pushes my own body into an unclear, longing vortex, causing my covetous cunt to beg for his cock, and his skin gleams from the water in the light, its chocolaty tone much more appealing than ever. The darkness in his eyes hold so much promise that I almost melt as they twinkle at me, and his parted lips remind me of what they felt like everywhere. I mean, the only different thing about him is his beard which covers almost all of the lower half of his face but enhances his ruggedness by far, and now the only thoughts running wild in my mind is how it would feel against my skin just like every other part of him. All the forces in the world suddenly converge in this one spot, swirling and whirling around us in patience as it contemplates on either splitting us further apart from each other or shoving us even closer, and I comprehend the fact that we're here to have a conversation that was just bound to happen, no matter what cautionary measures I took.

Inhaling a shaky breath, I pause for a moment and then say in an unsure voice, "I'm sorry. I... I just need to know... what you meant when you said that... you were forced to leave."

In a nanosecond, his expression morphs from one of bewilderment to perception and then indecision, my question unsettling him. He doesn't reply, maybe because he doesn't think it's best to tell me but I'm having none of that tonight.

"What did you mean when you said that, Shawn?" I press on, determined to know his true motives behind his departure.

He clenches his jaw and casts his eyes down, also knowing that this is what it has come down to. In the end, he says reluctantly, "My father... he made me do it."

Right... I did not expect that. I look at him hard, trying to decipher whether he's lying or not, but ultimately decide that he's not.

I exhale slowly, grasping the fact that there's much more to this story than I had originally thought. "Okay... why?"

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, giving off the image of a gauche teen. "To join his company."

I frown in profound perplexity. Didn't he once imply that his dad wanted nothing to do with his family? "Why make you join him all of a sudden when he had abandoned you?"

He rolls his eyes. "He doesn't like the idea of someone other than blood inheriting the company for whatever fucked-up reason."

Okay, this is something I should already know if it's true, I get that, but to be honest I haven't been in the mood to go on social media or even watch the news for a really long time, is why this statement slams into my brain like a freight train. I'm unable to say anything, struggling to digest this newly acquired data, but he continues to bucket down some more on me.

"I've been refusing to work for him ever since I was eighteen. I would rather die than have anything to do with that man," he says, a trace of dislike and repulsion in his tone.

"If that's true then what persuaded you to do the exact opposite this time?" I ask, a thousand times more puzzled now.

He pauses for a moment once again, his eyes scanning everything in the room except me, pissing me off a bit with the way he's still withholding vital information from me.

"Tell me, Shawn," I encourage, taking half a step closer to him.

Defeated, he shuts his eyes. Slowly, quietly, he whispers, "He blackmailed me—using you."

Again, I did not expect that. I am officially flabbergasted beyond all reason. My mouth gapes open as I watch him, speculating whether he's truly not playing my mind and heart like a fiddle. But when he finally returns his gaze to me, not a thread of deceit can be identified in his eyes and my heart sinks to the floor of the deepest part of the ocean. Me? Why me? How could he have blackmailed Shawn like that either way?

"The time we were on the porch before your friend caught us off guard?" he starts clarifying. "They took photos of us—mainly of you, really—whilst you were stripping."

All the blood drains from my face. That... that can't be correct, right? I mean, my home has surveillance everywhere so then how could anyone have taken good enough pictures without being found? And is his father actually that desperate for him to join his company for him to go to such outrageous, wicked lengths?

"I couldn't say no to him when he showed them to me," Shawn carries on, closing his eyes as if in great agony. "I couldn't let your life be ruined because of me. He had won, I knew that, and I just... I couldn't bring myself to tell you why I was really going."

Thunder rumbles, the storm still picking up speed to equal my muddled emotions, hail nailing away at the house. I can't feel anything but acute confusion and disbelief, mulling over how what should have been a terrific night with Jake turned into this staggering confession from Shawn. I try to breathe, to somehow soothe my pounding head and bruised heart, but nothing enters my lungs so my mind just spins faster whilst my heart throbs harder, and I feel faint, I feel weak, I feel exhausted, I feel a trillion things all at once, and I'm just not sure of what to make of all he has told me so far.

"So then... you left... for me?" I eventually whisper out the words, my body starting to shake a little.

"Yes," he plainly verifies, and I break down for the umpteenth time in my lifetime.