Chapter 3: Ghosts

My knee and the cut on my finger had fully healed. I rubbed the small carving I had made that night between my fingers. It was a round shape that looked vaguely birdlike. I didn't have the fine details down yet and there was a little blood stained on it. I kinda wanted to keep it as it was to remember that night. I didn't know when I was gonna see Robert again. I hoped he was okay. It seemed the blues I had before I met him had spread to him. I knew that wasn't the case, but it felt like it. I sighed. I don't know if he's even up for talking. He always seems so distant and now it's just more so.

I was startled out of my thoughts by my phone's message bell ringing. I swiped the lock screen away to see I had some unread messages on Siingle. I opened the app and saw they were from Robert! My heart immediately felt lighter, my chest filled with joy.

"Carrie

"hey Carrie

"guess who's getting their drink on tonight

I smiled wide as another few came in:

"guess

"it's you

"also me but mostly you

I type out a reply:

"Yes, I am so there."

He replies:

"yeeeeeeeeees

"meet me at jim n kims 8 pm."

After all the times he had taken me places spontaneously, I was surprised and almost disappointed that I had to wait. I half-expected him to knock on my door. Well, it was the afternoon, but still! I gave a happy sigh and darted to my closet to pick out something for a night with Robert.

Before changing though, I knocked on Andrew's door. He opened it with his headphones on his shoulders. "Yeah, Mom?" he asked.

"I'm going to be hanging out with Robert later on tonight, so don't wait up," I said.

"Okay, cool."

"We're just gonna have a few drinks, maybe barhop."

"I'm happy for you, Mom."

"It's not like it's a date or anything."

"It's okay, Mom. I already took a class on sex five years ago."

"That's good. I'm glad. Whatcha up to?" I quickly changed the subject before it got more awkward.

"Shittin' on little kids in COD."

"Andrew, language."

"Sure thing, Cap. See you later." He shut the door before I could say anything further. I vaguely wondered if there was more going on than what I was aware of. No use pushing him. If something's bothering him, he knows he can come to me. He'll talk when he's ready. Then again, maybe I'm overthinking it. I shook my head and went back to picking out a wardrobe for the not date with Robert.

I chose some jeggings, a red bra, and a white tank top. I looked in the mirror and grimaced. No, too obvious. I chose a black tank instead and found the top hung a little low. The top part of the tank had lace on it though. I looked myself over. I liked it. I pulled out a light jacket and some black tennis shoes. My clothing isn't too loose and these are good shoes for running. I'm ready for anything.

Evening came and I decided to walk to Jim N Kim's. As I got closer, I spotted Robert leaning against the wall, smoking. He looked a little different, like he had cleaned up a little. If I'm not careful, I'm gonna start overthinking again. Good thing we're drinking tonight.

"Hey," I greeted him with a smile.

"Hey," he replied. The corner of his lip tugged up into a small smile.

"You look good."

"I'm working on my relationship with existence." We're both quiet a moment. I mull over what he said and wonder if I should press the issue. Before I can come to a decision, Robert flicks his cigarette and heads inside. I dart after him.

Robert's already at the bar ordering two whiskeys when I catch up to him, so I head over to a booth and stake my claim on it. Robert comes over and slides me one of the glasses before sitting down. I decide to kick off the evening with a toast.

"Here's to your continued existence," I say. We clink glasses and I am surprised to see he's sipping his. Well, at least I won't have to work so hard to catch up tonight. I sip mine contentedly. "So, what's the plan?"

"Hit some other bars, maybe grab some pizza. I think that'll kill some time before we go burn down that old abandoned house in the woods," he replies.

Before I can quip back, I hear a voice say, "It's definitely not as fun if it's abandoned." I look to see that it's Mary. My heart drops, but I try to keep my face neutral when I see her over the back of the booth. With a glass of wine in one hand, she gives Robert a punch on the shoulder and asks, "Where was my phone call?"

"Sorry, figured you were busy sinking your teeth into some poor sap," Robert replies.

"I am. He's right here," she replies. True enough, there's a guy in the booth with her who gives us a weak wave. "You replacing me with the new girl?"

"Mary, I could never replace you. Whether I wanted to or not." Mary leaves her booth and slides in next to Robert. Oh, great, I think. The guy she was sitting with looks mildly relieved. Mary, meanwhile, looks at Robert up and down suspiciously.

"What, do you got a court date coming up?" she asks.

Getting back into the conversation, I say, "He would've shaved first."

Robert gives a nearly imperceptible smile while his eyes twinkle my way. Mary goes on, "Seriously though, what's up with you?"

Robert looks down at his drink, his expression going serious. "It's… Pappy. Doctors say it's cirrhosis of the liver. I told that old bag of bones to quit it with the sauce, but it's all he's ever known; especially since Ma's gone," he says. "That's why I invited you out tonight… just didn't want to be alone." He nods to me.

"Oh, come on," I say. Although my heart twists, hoping he's joking again.

"Carrie, don't be an asshole. You know the one thing Robert doesn't joke around about is his Pappy," says Mary. Oh. I reach out a hand across the table toward Robert's and put a few fingers around his hand.

"They're giving him two months. I gotta help him straighten out his affairs," says Robert, giving my hand a small squeeze.

"Robert, I'm so sorry," I say.

Robert takes a long look at his whiskey before saying, "I look at his life, then I look at mine, and I know history is just doomed to repeat itself."

"Robert…"

He pulls his hand away and a grin crosses his face as he says, "I'm just kidding. He's retired with his new girlfriend in Acapulco. They watch the sunset every night. Probably screw like donkeys."

I take a quiet breath to steady myself because I don't think I'll ever believe if something tragic actually does happen. I deflect back to the latter part of his statement. "Aren't rabbits more known for screwing?" I ask.

"Oh, sorry, didn't realize you were an expert on which animals screw a lot," says Robert. I hide a huff by taking another sip of whiskey.

"Please stop saying the word 'screw,'" says Mary.

Robert finishes his drink and gets out of the booth, I quickly down the rest of mine and get up as well. Robert turns to Mary. "Me and Carrie are gonna hit the bricks. You coming with?" he asks. Please say no, I thought.

Mary takes a glance at the poor sap who's still in the other booth before downing the rest of her wine. She says, "This place is dead anyways," before getting up and joining us.

When we head outside, we notice a group of people following a guy with a lantern. I quirk an eyebrow because it looks like a tour, but I don't remember anything about tours in the area. I turn to Robert and Mary and ask, "What's going on?"

"Looks like one of those walking ghost tours. They do that in this part of town all the time," Mary replies.

"I've always wanted to do one of those," says Robert.

"You know all the stories are fake, right?" asks Mary.

"Pretty much all of my stories are fake. This is research," he replies. He looks actually interested and I couldn't say I wasn't a little intrigued as well. Just when you think a town has no more to discover, you discover something new. It seemed like these discoveries happened more around Robert and I was happy the night was taking a more spontaneous direction. It was an outcome I had hoped for.

Robert heads toward the back of the group and I follow. He calls out to Mary, "Come on!" He turns to me and says, "Just act like you belong." I nod and we're off on another adventure.

"Hey, hey! It was in this place in 1694 that the most infamous witch trials were held," says the tour guide. "To date, we do not know if the people burned at the stake were actually witches, but it is widely reported that their ghosts still haunt this hapless dive bar to this very day."

"It was actually 1692," Robert interjects.

"What?" asks the tour guide.

"And the site was over by the coffee shop down the road," says Robert. I wasn't sure what he was doing, but I decided to stay quiet until my time came.

As it was, the tour guide looked a little perturbed at being interrupted. "I'm sorry… who are you?" he asks.

"Daniel McSturgiss, ghost historian," Robert replies, not missing a beat. Always has a story prepared. He then turns to me and says, "And this is my colleague, Dr…." he turns to me and I realize my time came sooner than I thought.

I think on my feet and quickly come up with a proper reply: "Dr. Loomis, paranormal investigator extraordinaire. We're touring America's most haunted locations as research for our new book."

"You may have seen our guest cameo on Paranormal House Hunters: Extreme Edition," Robert goes on.

A couple of people in the group start nodding. Wow. It's still amazing to me how convincing he is. I thought back to earlier and even the last time when we hung out and I wondered if his somberness had been an act too.

"I… are you guys part of the group? I don't remember seeing you at the first stop," says the tour guide.

"We like to keep a low profile. Easier to catch ghosts that way," says Robert.

"They've definitely been here. Been standing next to them the whole time," Mary supports.

"Thank you, random lady who I do not know," I say, hoping it to be the truth while also glad she was supporting our on-the-spot lie.

"As I was saying, the epicenter of paranormal activity can be found at the Coffee Spoon, over there," Robert points. "The man who runs it has been plagued by hauntings since he signed the lease. Damn near driven him mad… but, whatever you wanna say is cool, I guess. It's your tour." The tour group listens intently to Robert's every word. I think the tour guide can tell he's losing the group. He seems to be getting more noticeably flustered.

The tour guide puts on a forced smile and says, "Thank you for your contribution, Mr. McSturgiss. Let's move on to the next haunted location." Robert, Mary, and I follow the group down the street.

"I like the tour guide's shirt," I say. The shirt has a few blue and white ghosts on it that hits the sweet spot between corny and cool just right.

"Yeah, everyone in the group gets one if we make it to the final location," says Mary.

I turn to Robert and grab his arm. He looks at me and I say, "I need that t-shirt." I almost added: You owe me a proper souvenir.

Robert smiles. "Well, I guess we're in this for the long haul then. Just follow my lead, don't arouse too much suspicion, and we'll have cool ghost shirts in no time."

Our next stop is an old, decrepit colonial-style house. "A quick pause in the tour. My name is Quinn, but most people on the ghost tour circuit call me Tourmaster Quinn. I'm a DJ, trivia master, and part time actor. I do private ghost hunting events, birthday parties, MC bar mitzvahs, and perform traditional vaudevillian mime work," says our tour guide. While he's talking, he hands out headshots of himself with his resume on the back. Hm, stage combat experience.

"Anyway, here's a little bit of history for you all," Quinn continues. "This was the home of noted American author Dorothy Pembridge, whose prose was wildly popular in the late 19th century. It was in the attic of this very home where she wrote such classics as, "The Diaries of a Victorian Mistress," "Lady Fitzwilliams' Courtship," and "The Ghost of Sea Captain Reginald Barkeley." She unfortunately died of consumption shortly after the turn of the century, but several people have reported that on some nights you can see a light from the attic. There, the ghost of Ms. Pembridge continues work on her latest best-seller. I guess you could say that she was consumed by her work." The pun was noted, but not funny. The rest of the crowd seemed to think the same way.

Robert brings the energy back up. "Actually, consumption is the popular cover-up. Little known fact is that it was a murder-suicide," he says.

"Um, I'm pretty sure she died of consumption," said Quinn.

"Sure, sure. And we definitely didn't hire Stanley Kubrick to elaborately fake the moon landing. That's the watered down, censored version they teach you in school. But if you can't handle the real story, I understand. It's not for the faint of heart."

"Can we-"

Mary interrupts Quinn with, "I think everyone would much rather hear what this world-renowned ghost historian has to say, right, everybody?" The group murmurs in agreement.

Robert soaks up the attention for all it's worth. "This is a topic we cover extensively in our book. Dr. Loomis, would you care to tell the story?" He turns to me. The smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye make it impossible to say no. Besides, if you want anything, you have to work for it.

"In the 19th century, Dorothy Pembridge was credited for protecting New York City from potentially world-ending paranormal forces. Despite her success, her rag-tag group of ghost hunters were disbanded by government officials. However, after learning that the ghost of Vigo the Carpathian has taken an interest in her son, her and her ghost… busting… friends launched a mission to defeat the ghost and once again save New York City." Hopefully, no one else in this group has seen Ghostbusters II.

"Hey, isn't that the plot to-" Quinn tries to interject.

"Nope. It's not," I say before he can spoil it. Robert fails to hide a wide grin.

Quinn sees this as an opportunity to take back the group and addresses us with some razzle dazzle. "Haha, what an interesting story. Now, I just want everyone to know that the next location is extremely terrifying. If anyone thinks they can't handle it, feel free to excuse yourselves," he says.

As we start heading to the next location, Mary talks to Robert and me. "All right, I'm bored," she says. She then turns to a young guy looking at his phone and taps him on the shoulder. "Hey, kid. Fancy buyin' a gal a drink?" The guy looks up at her and smiles. Poor kid doesn't know what he's in for yet, but he will. He will.

"Only if the bar is haunted," he replies.

"Honey, I can show you the most haunted place in town," says Mary.

"I think I could exorcise your demons… if that's what you're looking for," he says suggestively.

"Don't write checks your dick can't cash, kid." His eyes go wide. Maybe Mary has finally found a worthy opponent… but then again, maybe not. Mary gives Robert and me a salute. Before she leaves, she pulls me into a hug and whispers in my ear. "When you've known Rob for as long as I have, you know when something's wrong. Keep an eye on him for me tonight, okay?" It sounded so genuine that I felt my mind going back to my thoughts from earlier when I thought something was bothering Robert. Maybe my instincts had been right all along.

"Sure thing, Mary," I reply.

As she pulls out of the hug and gives me a pat on the shoulder, she says, "Good." She then takes the guy's hand and leads him down the street, leaving me with Robert and our impromptu tour. "Take it sleazy, fellas," she calls back. I blush.

As we watch them walk away, Robert says, "God help that poor soul."

"Mary or the kid?" I ask.

"Both," he replies. We continue following the tour group to our next stop.

We arrive a short time later at a cemetery. My heart drops upon seeing it, memories of Daniel surfacing in my mind. I take a grounding breath. I came this far, might as well see it to the end.

"Our last stop. This burial ground is such a hotbed of horrifying paranormal activity that I'm not sure where to begin. There's the Wailing Ghost of the Wharfman, the vampire of Maple Bay, the Children of the Moonlight…" said Quinn ominously.

"What about the Dover Ghost?" asks Robert. The tour guide gives a look that says I'm done with this shit. I guess it was good that this was the last stop on the tour, so nothing bad could happen… right?

"What about it?" Quinn asks, his tone snarky.

"Oh, nothing, I just think it would be a crime to come all the way out to this cemetery, the actual origin of one of New England's most notorious paranormal entities, and not even mention the infamous Dover Ghost," says Robert.

"That's not a real thing. That is absolutely not a real thing," Quinn affirms. So, the rest of the ghosts are?

I scoff and say, "I think someone needs to brush up on their paranormal history."

"I know tons about paranormal history. I know every ghost story in this area," says Quinn, agitated.

"I can guarantee there's one you don't know," says Robert. Robert looks over at me and smiles, the moonlight perfectly capturing the mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Would you folks care to hear the tale of how Loomis and I met?"

"No-" Quinn's protest is blocked out by the rest of the group. Quinn sighs, resigned. "Okay, fine, fine, tell the story." Once again, Robert and I have the floor.

"Well, it was a dark and stormy night…" Robert begins.

"I wasn't always a paranormal investigator. Way back when, I was just a travelling grifter, moving from town to town, always looking for my next mark. It wasn't an easy life, but I had fun. Taking from the rich, giving to the poor… actually also taking from the poor," I say. In my mind, I think back on the times Robert and I hung out. I imagine what he must have been like before he met me, using that as inspiration for my speech. It really seemed like a nice life… nice, but lonely.

I went on, "I had a shaky moral foundation. I happened upon the quiet town of Maple Bay quite by accident, but little did I know this city has a dark side." What must Robert's life have been like when he first came to town? It struck me then how very little I knew about him and how easy it had been for me to develop a relationship with him… of sorts.

Robert took it from there. "Now, about the same time, I was just starting out as an apprentice to a rather famous ghost hunter who was an old family friend of mine. I carried the equipment, operated the EVP machine, all that."

"Wait," says Quinn.

"Yes?" Robert is a little miffed to be interrupted.

"Who was the famous ghost hunter?" Quinn asks.

"Well, I don't like to name drop, but… Georgia Mathers," Robert answers. There is a collective gasp in the group.

"Georgia Mathers?! She's a legend! You know her?!" Quinn asks excitedly.

"Knew her. Amazing woman. Died mysteriously. Miss you, Georgie," says Robert. He then went on with his story. "Anyway, we were in Maple Bay investigating some reports of strange lights and sounds coming from the cemetery late at night. Now, we had been warned by the old cryptkeeper that this place was highly dangerous, but Georgia was never one to shy away from an adventure. We camped out in the center of the cemetery for three nights straight. We endured your so-called 'Wailing Watchman.'"

"Wailing Ghost of the Wharfman," Quinn corrects.

"Whatever. Your stupid vampire was just a teenager in a mask, but the Dover Ghost… man. Tell 'em Loomis."

"So, there I was, just walking back to my hotel after a long day of working a couple short cons. Classic pigeon drop scam, putting out feelers for a rip deal. I was going to steal a baby, probably. Woulda made me rich," I say. Robert's rubbing off on me too much. Lying's getting easier and I'm starting to sound like him. "I found myself walking past this very cemetery. Now, I was never a very superstitious girl, but something seemed… off. I could hear some sort of commotion happening deep within the graveyard and I felt compelled to investigate."

"And thank God you did. Georgia and I were conducting a séance in the mausoleum. At first, things were pretty normal… but after an hour, everything went south. Playing back the EVP meter, we were able to hear a single word: Run.

"The air suddenly went cold. Something was very, very wrong. I just knew we weren't alone. We started to hear this faint, distant scraping noise, like something being dragged across the ground. It got louder and louder until it was deafening, some kind of demented howl. And then I felt it. Someone… something… grabbing my ankle." The crowd is enthralled by the story, even Quinn is listening with intent interest. "I've only cried twice in my life. Once was at the birth of my daughter. The other was when that… thing… started dragging me." Is the daughter part real or part of the story? Something about the statement rang true. Then again, I still was never sure when Robert was telling the truth.

Robert continues, "I wasn't sure where it was taking me, but I knew it was no place I wanted to go. I was sure I was going to die."

"The moment I crossed the gate into the cemetery, I heard this horrific screeching. I ran into the mausoleum just in time to see a man being pulled across the floor by… oh, to this day, the thought of it ties my stomach into knots. It looked like a man, but like…" I glanced at Robert and find my inspiration.

I continue, "like someone who didn't know what a man was supposed to look like tried to put one together. The arms were too long. Its eyes glowed red… it was a walking shadow. What'd I do? I did what any good person would do. I lunged for Daniel." It was easy enough to remember the improvised name, though it made my heart feel sad.

"I thought I was gonna by torn in half," says Robert.

"But I had God on my side. The pocket Bible I always kept on me fell out of my jacket pocket. To this day, I can remember what passage it opened up to: Ecclesiastes 12:7," I say.

Before I can quote it, Robert does so, "'Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it."

"With a horrifying growl, the entity finally relented. Daniel and I collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. We were both covered in blood."

"That damn creature clawed into my chest, got me real good. Had to get sixteen stitches." Robert pulls down his shirt collar to reveal a long, nasty scar across his toned pecs. Dang. "And that's how I got his scar.

"I followed Georgia Mathers to the ends of the earth. We faced exorcisms, demons, poltergeists that threw our equipment across the room. But I had never seen Georgia so scared. She was never the same after that. And neither was I."

"Watching what happened to Daniel and Georgia shook my faith, but I came out of that experience a better woman and friend."

"And we've been partners ever since." He pulls me into a hug that makes my heart leap and skip across my chest. The tour group gives a round of applause. Robert's musk wafts into my nostrils: smoke and a manly cologne accentuating his body chemistry with a forest undertone. The embrace is hard to pull away from.

Everyone, even our tour guide, Quinn, is emotional from the story. Robert puts an arm around my shoulders. He seems to be holding back emotion as he says, "Thank you, thank you. It's an honor to share our story."

I put an arm around his waist and add, "Be sure to watch for our book: 'Paranormal Excursions of the Supernatural: Ice Road Ghost Truckers.'" Robert puts a hand over his mouth to hide a laugh by clearing his throat.

"Well, I think you both definitely earned your t-shirts," says Quinn. He zips open the duffle bag he had been carrying and hands us each the coveted shirts. He also slips us both his business card and speaks low to us. "If you guys are ever in need of a professional actor, balloon animal artist, Elvis impersonator, or nude model, please don't hesitate to contact me."

"You got it, buddy," says Robert with a smile. I nod. A couple of the tourists want selfies with us and we oblige. We then split away from the group and begin the walk home.

When we're a good distance away, I laugh and say, "That was amazing!"

Robert smiles wide and lets out a laugh of his own. "I really can't believe they bought all of that. I didn't know you had it in ya, Carrie—excuse me, Dr. Loomis." He bows and grins. "That bit about the pocket Bible was aces. Although giving the Dover Ghost glowing red eyes was a little cliché."

"And the Kubrick conspiracy theory wasn't?" I quirk up an eyebrow playfully.

He shrugs and replies, "All a part of the character." His grin remains.

"Well, we got the shirts out of it, so, thanks."

We climb up the few steps onto Robert's front porch. My heart sinks. I didn't want the evening to end. Seeming to sense this, Robert asks, "Wanna have a drink?"

I give a short laugh. "I know where this goes, Small. I know the steps. One second I'm sipping delicious aged scotch, the next I'm foaming at the mouth and you've taken over the throne."

"Long live the king, baby," he says with a grin. He opens the door and ushers me inside. As I glance up at him, I remember what Mary asked me earlier that night. Something did seem different about Robert. It seemed like he was fine, but if Mary thought something was wrong, it must have been true. I won't bring it up unless I have to. This has been a fun evening so far. The last thing Robert'll want to do is talk about his feelings in a genuine manner.

As we step further in, I hear claws skittering frantically. I gasp and brace myself. I close my eyes, expecting to be tackled by either an overly excited or overly protective pup. I hear Robert say, "Betsy! Hey! Be nice!" I don't feel a big dog colliding with my legs, but something just above the ankle and small paws on my shoes. I open my eyes and catch a glimpse of a Boston Terrier running around like a bullet.

"Betsy?" I question. Robert and I kneel at the same time to give Betsy some loving pats. I smile at the cutest, ditsiest Boston Terrier I've ever seen. As Betsy licks my hands, I say, "I'm so glad you weren't taken by the Dover Ghost!"

"Betsy's made of tougher stuff than that. Ain'tcha, girl?" Robert says giving her ear a scratch. I scratch the other one and the little dog is basking in the glow of attention. She rolls over and I coo at her while giving belly rubs.

Robert says, "I just keep a picture of a large pitbull in my wallet in case of… emergencies. Comedic emergencies." I gasp and give Robert a shove. It doesn't move him and he doesn't seem disturbed in the slightest. He rises and I follow him to his living room, an excited pup is on our tail before she zooms ahead.

The modern living room surprises me. I had expected his place to be like his truck: old and need-fulfilling. This was like a home theater I had always dreamed of. Two large shelves are full to the brim of DVDs with tags indicating genre and era. Robert goes to a corner of the room that has a wet bar stocked with a variety of boozes. He pours us both glasses of whiskey and I spot Betsy dive into a pile of cushions. I giggle and turn back to Robert. There was truth in his love of cinema, I wonder what other truths I could pry from him.

"So… how did you really get that scar?" I ask as he hands me one of the glasses. "And don't tell me you got it fishing for Alaskan King Crabs in the Bering sea or something. You trained me too well." Mostly.

Robert laughs and takes a sip of his drink. "My daughter and I were riding our bikes. I hit a rock, flew over the handlebars, and then we went to the hospital. And that's it. Not a very interesting story." Which makes it true.

"I've never heard you talk about your daughter," I say, taking a sip of my drink.

"Well, I have one. That's her." He points to a picture on the wall of a very serious little girl with dark eyes. The resemblance is uncanny. Yep, that's definitely Robert's daughter.

"How old is she?"

"Uh… 25? 26? Not too sure." Geez, either he had her young or he's older than I thought.

Undeterred, I ask, "Does she live around here?"

"No, Val lives back home in Brooklyn. Works at some new media online magazine thing. Makes buckets, though." He goes quiet for a moment. Maybe he fell out of touch with his daughter and he feels guilty about it? Either way, he doesn't look too happy talking about it. He changed the subject with the question, "You like Santana?"

"Sure," I reply.

"Great." He puts on Santana, then takes a seat next to me on the couch. He finishes his drink and sets the glass down on the nearby coffee table. There's a heavy cloud in the room. Something's wrong.

"Hey, are you all right?" I ask, putting a hand on his shoulder. He leans over and kisses me. Fire spreads through me and it's not just due to the whiskey on our breaths. It's intoxicating, more so than any liquor we've consumed together. When he pulls away, his lips are still brushing against my mouth, pheromones growing heavy in the air after only one kiss.

"I am now." I had never heard him speak so hotly before. He leans in again, kissing harder. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth, giving a light bite while his hand slides under my shirt to cup one of my breasts. I'm only really capable of sighs and moans at this point, having become putty in his hands. I lay on my back on the couch and he hovers over me, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck and occasionally grazing his teeth across my skin. Yes. Oh, God, yes. Then, wait a minute…

"Robert…" What might have begun as a plea to hold up sounded more like a wanton mewl on my lips. He gives a bite to my collar bone and I poorly suppress a moan with a sigh. "Stop." He stiffens and pulls away. I take a few breaths to calm down the fire in my skin.

"No biting?"

"No, no, you were doing great, but something's up." I sit up and look into his eyes, begging silently that he be honest with me for once. He runs a hand through his hair and looks away.

"I'm fine. I've just been kinda stressed out. Tired. Not a big deal." He's deflecting and if I don't push him now, I might not ever get another good chance. I inwardly sigh. Sex with Robert would've been great, but good sex isn't just about moves, it's also about emotion. If both people aren't feeling happy and willing, then it isn't all it could be.

I steel my resolve and look at him. I speak sincerely to him, "Listen, I want this as badly as you do, but I know something's wrong. I need to make sure that you're okay."

He stares down at the ground. "You don't know me that well, Carrie. I'm not… a good person." It was the most genuine sounding tone he had ever taken with me. He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I spent my whole life only taking, and taking, and taking. And now, here I am, an old, broken man sitting on top of a pile of everything I've ever taken. Alone."

You don't have to be alone. "Robert," I say, putting a hand to his shoulder again. "I want to know you. You don't have to keep hiding behind fake stories and acting like you don't have feelings."

"It's…" He trails off with a weighted sigh. My hand takes to rubbing small circles on his upper back. He had my encouragement to share with me. He finally lets it out. "It's Val… she's visiting tomorrow. She… wants to patch things up."

My eyes squint suspiciously. "Robert, no more bits, please."

"This isn't a bit."

Oh. "I'm sorry… when was the last time you saw her?" I continued rubbing small circles on his back.

"Three… four, I think."

"Months?"

After a moment, he replies, "Years." Shit. I was taken aback so much I sat up.

"Geez, Robert. What happened between you two?"

"I don't want to talk about it." His voice was part defensive and part pain. We sit in quiet for a moment, staring at the floor for answers.

Robert breaks the silence. "Fine. Things were already bad between us. I cared about her. I always did. Things just… got in the way. And before I knew it, she was leaving for college, wanting nothing to do with me. Marilyn and I moved out here to settle down. We thought it would help get away from all the distractions, all the money… the drinking. But… temptation gets to you. I tried to be better, but I just… couldn't.

"And then… the accident… changed everything. I think every day about how she must've died hating me. I never became the better man that she wanted me to be. The one she always saw in me. She was the last thread Val and I had connecting us together. I didn't know that when I lost my wife I was gonna lose my daughter too."

Now, I wished he would tell me he was kidding. This was heavy. "Robert…" My voice carried a sympathy I hoped he felt.

"I spent so much time chasing after things I thought were gonna make me happy that I ruined my only real chance at happiness. Now, my wife is dead and my daughter hates me. And then I convinced myself that this-" He gestures vaguely toward me, "-was going to make me happy. Why do I even try anymore?" My heart felt stabbed with pain. I had thought, hoped, that some part of him liked me the same way I liked him. I thought we had fun together. Don't make this about you.

"I'm so sorry. I know how hard it is to-"

"No, you don't. How could you possibly know how this feels? You did everything right. Your son loves you. You're a good person. I was a terrible husband and I'm an even worse father. I have no idea why she's even bothering to contact me now, I know I'm just gonna fuck it up like I always do. I'm broken. I shouldn't even go."

I was hurt and angry. A big part of me wanted to leave, but… he needed a friend right now. If that's all I could ever be to him, then that's what I needed to be. I took a breath and told him what he needed to hear.

"Nothing is going to change until you do." He looks at me and I continue. "There are a lot of things in my life that I regret, that I wish I could take back or do over. And it hurts so much to know that I can't. What I can do, and what you have the privilege of doing tomorrow morning, is wake up and try to be a better person than you were the day before. Things aren't going to fix themselves tomorrow, or the next day. 'Patching things up' with Val isn't going to solve all of your problems either, but nothing is going to change if you don't. You can't love anyone else until you stop hating yourself.

"You're right. I don't know you that well, but you have the same capacity for good that we all have. I know you can find it. Val is giving you a chance. Don't waste it."

"But-"

"Robert. Listen to me. It's gonna be okay."

"But…"

I lean over and pull him into a tight hug, stopping him in his tracks. He puts his head on my shoulder and hugs back. I rub circles on his back. "It's gonna be okay," I say. I put a hand in his hair and he shudders against me. He's crying. It tugs at my heartstrings and I forget what I had been feeling, focusing on the man in my arms.

"Thank you," he says. It's faint, but I still catch it. I nearly start crying too. I stay there, holding him and he me. It wasn't how I wanted the night to end and I might not ever get the ending I want, but it was the ending he needed. That was more important. I didn't wanna leave him and I don't think he wanted me to leave, so we soon fell asleep on the couch, still holding each other.

That was an emotional chapter, but the story's not over yet! Check out the bottom of my profile page for my update schedule. Look forward to another chapter soon. Until then, please keep reading and reviewing, thanks :)