Back To Me

BACK TO ME

By Kelly Miles

Copyright 2015 © Kelly Miles

Cover Design by Marianne Nowicki

Copyright 2015 Kelly Miles ©

All rights reserved.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy.  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

              To my family and friends… your support and unwavering faith astound me. I couldn’t do what I do without the encouragement you give. I love you all more than you will ever know.

              To my editor…LMG. You put as much heart and soul into my novels as I do, trying to make them the best they can be. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! They wouldn’t be what they are without your persistence and insistence on being the best possible. You are amazing! The proofreader is pretty fantastic, too!

              My boys….. Both of you are my world and I love you with everything I have. YOU are my greatest accomplishment and the biggest blessing I could have ever received.

              Last but certainly not least, my husband. There are no words to explain the gratitude I have for you. Your unconditional love and support get me through the long hours, especially when those long hours turn into days with no sleep. You never complain about picking up the slack, always taking it upon yourself to do what needs to be done so that I can fulfil this crazy dream. I love you forever and always.

For Jay
…..I’m so thankful you found me.

Prologue

Billy

              My days and nights are now one. Each seamlessly blending into the other. My curtains stay drawn, the blinds closed, and that’s just how I like it. No one knows I’m home, nor do I want them to.

              I sit here alone. Completely and utterly alone because it’s safer for them. For everyone I know and love. If they knew the real me, they’d be disappointed. They’d want nothing more to do with me and then I’d really lose everything. It’s only pretending to be what they expect that keeps me going. No, it’s for the best if they believe in who they
think
I am.

              I don’t eat and I don’t sleep. I drink. The bottom of a bottle is the only way I can get through the endless days and nights. It’s the only thing that keeps my mind from going back to a happier time; a time that’s filled with such wonderful memories that they’re too painful to even recall. It’s too hard to sit and reflect on all I’ve lost, on what I’ve given up for this life only to be left with the monster I’ve become.

              I’m a liar. I have to be to do my job. At least that’s what I tell myself. Honestly I think it’s just who I am. It’s in my nature, in my DNA, and I can’t stop it. I lie to cover my tracks, to keep people from seeing the real me. I think I even lie to hide the truth from myself because it hurts too damn much.

              I’ve loved one woman in my life. That deep, soul clenching, air-knocked-from-your-lungs kind of love. She was my angel in a world full of evil. My chance at redemption, but now she’s gone.

              I miss her every day. I think of the pain etched in her eyes as I laid in a hospital bed clinging to life; her tear streaked face no more than a faint blur. I think about my return home, anxious to hold her, to tell her I was quitting the agency only to find a note saying she wasn’t coming back.

I remember shutting myself off from the world then, too. It was easier than succumbing to the bone crushing pain I felt. I couldn’t fall apart in front of anyone. I was too strong, too stubborn and filled with too much pride to go after her. Leaving California and moving back to Montana was the best thing for me. 

That’s what has led me here….to this point.
Lauren and Luke
. My two best friends. I love them both, but I hide from them. Since my return a few months ago they have hounded me relentlessly to come and visit, but I’m not good enough. I do miss Sam. She’s a beautiful little girl, just like her mother, but she scares the hell out of me because even at her young age, she can see right through all my bullshit. She’s the only one that can bring me to my knees. And if I’m honest with myself, I miss all three of them. They’re my family. But I can’t let them see me like this. If they knew I was back in town there’s no doubt they’d be knocking down my door. So instead I sit and I stew. I reminisce on what is and what was. And I drink.

Present Day
- Billy

              The note folded in my wallet mocks me. Every time I sit down, every time I go to the bar and pay for a drink, that damn letter always stares at me, begging to be unfolded. Normally I can resist it. I tell it to shut up and leave me the hell alone. But tonight? Well, tonight is different.

              I’ve learned I’m not as strong as I once was; the years of self-inflicted loathing had made me weak. I used to be a tough guy because I had to be. I had survived brutal beatings and a gunshot wound. I had survived drug rings and nasty, filthy undercover assignments. I had lived in the worst places imaginable. Then I left my job. I gave up
everything
. But not this damn note. It’s the one thing I can’t part with.

              I unfold it carefully so I don’t rip the worn paper. It’s been opened so many times, it’s a wonder it doesn’t unfold and refold itself. There are blotchy marks where my tears caused the ink to smear. There are fingerprints and sweat on those pages, and yet I still carry it around as if it’s a treasure; a priceless possession that’s worth millions. I suppose to me it is. It’s all I have left of
her,
of my angel.

              Laying it out on the table in front of me, I take another swig of my beer and inhale a deep breath. After six years it still hurts like hell. It’s like a knife to my heart, a dagger to my soul. The wind gets knocked from my lungs and the walls close in around me. It’s the same thing every time, and every time I tell myself that it will be different; that I can get through it without the pain. Whoever said ‘time heals all wounds’ is a damn liar. It doesn’t.

              My eyes scan the smudged ink, the scribble, and the faded blue lines of the notebook paper. I don’t have to read it…I know it by heart. And in reality, what it says doesn’t even matter because the end result is always the same.
She left me
. I was never able to make amends for what I’d put her through, and not necessarily just leaving her alone. It was the things I’d done and been expected to do while I was undercover. She never gave me a chance to make it right. She didn’t believe in me enough to stick it out, to give me the chance to tell her I was done with leaving.

              My life meant nothing without her and taking a bullet only drove the point home. I never went after her and I never tried to follow her trail. If she didn’t want me, then fine. I didn’t need anyone.

1

Heather- Present Day

              The days are long, but the endless nights drag and seem to last a lifetime. I’m alone because I was a coward. Because I couldn’t face the reality of what I’d done.

              I go to work at my shit job and then I come home to my shit house. It’s broken and falling apart, just like me. It’s not only ironic, but very fitting. It mirrors how I feel on the inside. Anyone would look at me and think I have it all together, but they’d be wrong. Nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s all a façade, a way for me to get through day to day in order to survive.

              I once had it all; a nice place to live, friends that were like family, and a man who loved me more than anything; a man who would have given his life for mine. And like the bitch that I am, I threw it all away because of one mistake… a mistake that never should have happened in the first place. One mistake that I can’t change no matter how badly I want to. It haunts me every minute I’m awake and even when I close my eyes.

              I feel the loss. I feel it so deep in my soul that there’s no room for anything else. It’s bottomless and black, and yet it’s the only thing that reminds me that any of it was ever real. That’s the kicker. The kink in my otherwise miserable life. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much the air is sucked from my lungs, feeling the pain is the only way I know that any of it ever happened. It’s the only way I know that I was loved and that I loved in return.

              I know I’ll never have that again. I’ll never walk down the aisle and marry the man of my dreams. I resigned myself to that reality when I left years ago, but I thought with time it would get better. The total naked truth? It never gets better and I’m
not
fine. I’m anything
but
fine. I work a job that I hate because I couldn’t function well enough to finish college. I have bills I can’t pay and a roof that leaks. I have a boss who is constantly up my ass for being late because my car is a beater that I couldn’t give away if I tried. No, time doesn’t heal all wounds and it never gets better. It gets worse. It eats away at you until there’s nothing left. Nothing but an empty shell that will eventually crack. The foundation is shaken and the windows are broken. It’s all broken.

              I sit in the dark, alone. My shades are drawn and the lights are off. No one notices because no one cares, and that’s alright. I lost the right to have anyone care for me. I lost the right when I did the unthinkable.

              The guilt I feel over leaving him is, on a good day, unbearable at best. I think about Billy constantly. I could lie and say that I hope he’s moved on… that he’s married to the love of his life with two children and a dog, but that’s not true at all. It’s selfish I know, but that’s just who I am. Thinking he was able to carry on without me is a crushing ache unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and there’s no cure for it.

              I know this is my punishment, and I can’t say I don’t deserve it because I do. So here I sit, alone in the dark, praying for the end. There’s no one to miss me, so no one will know to look. There’s no one who cares, so no one will. And I deserve it all.

              I knock back the last of my wine, swishing it around in my mouth before letting the vile taste slide down my throat. I turn his picture over and over in my hand. The edges are bent and beginning to peel away at the surface. I can’t stare at it for very long, but every now and again I get brave enough to glance. His eyes speak to me, begging to know why.  I wasn’t honest with him about why I left. I knew he’d hate me forever and that was something I couldn’t live with. If he knew the real reason I ran, he’d never,
ever
forgive me. I couldn’t expect that of him when even now I can’t forgive myself.

              I kiss his beautiful lips one more time, praying for a response but knowing deep down there won’t be one. It’s only a photograph. A thing. A material possession that I cherish more than anything else I own. It’s always with me and it will be until the day they lay my cold body in the ground…. If anyone ever thinks to look for me.

2

Billy

              I get up and shower, though I have nowhere to be. I shave and wash my hair as if I were a robot that had been programmed on automatic. There’s no thought involved; I just know it’s something people are supposed to do.

              Every day is mundane, each the same as the one before. Pouring rain, snow, smoldering heat or bitter cold… I don’t feel the difference. Seasons and time don’t matter. I have become immune to it all. I just do the things I know I’m supposed to do without rhyme or reason.

              I do run. I run every morning, but not for the reasons other people might. I think most people do it to clear their mind; to cleanse their bodies of toxins. But not me. I welcome the poison running through my veins. It reminds me I’m still human and that I deserve this hell I can’t climb out of. It lets me know I can still feel
something
. It lets me know that my angel was real, and that even though it’s over, at least I had her for a little while.

              They say, ‘
It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all
’. The truth is that old cliché sucks and people only use it when they have nothing better to say when a relationship goes to shit. ‘
Having lost
’ brings excruciating pain. It’s relentless and never ending. It’s time consuming. It eats away at you until there’s nothing left.

              Sometimes I wonder if I should regret having loved Heather; if I should feel something besides the hatred that consumes me every day. I still don’t have an answer for that. I would like to believe that I am better for having known her, for having loved someone like her and having her love me in return. But I don’t know if the man I am now; this selfish, bitter, self-serving bastard was ever bettered by anyone or anything.

              My job had stolen so much from me. My time, my body, my
life
. I often compare my secret undercover life and my real life with Heather, and the two are on opposite ends of the spectrum. It was almost impossible to come home after months away and give her what she needed. If I was any kind of man at all I’d have left her alone. I wouldn’t have introduced myself, I wouldn’t have pursued her, and I definitely wouldn’t have fallen in love.
Rule number one:
Never get involved.

              I was gone much of the time, working with prostitutes and drug dealers; thugs who could pull the trigger without so much as blink an eye. I saw things,
bad things
, and ran with the devil himself. Then I’d go home to my angel and I couldn’t get the two to coincide. I felt dirty laying in the bed next to her. I felt unworthy and began pushing her away. I knew she deserved better, but I wasn’t strong enough to walk away. She was the only
good
in my life.

              Keeping secrets from her ate away at me, too. I couldn’t share my day with her, or in my case the months at a time I’d be gone. I knew she hated it, too, but she never asked me to choose. She never demanded that I quit
or else
. That’s what made her leaving so difficult to understand. It came out of nowhere and it was a blow to my pride.

              That’s why I run. I run as far as I can. I watch the dust fly around my feet like a mini tornado and listen to the gravel as it crunches beneath my feet. I watch the flowers and the trees sway with the wind; the way the sun glistens off the pond. Out here alone, I’m not sitting and thinking. I’m not wondering where she is or who she’s with. The pain is too real, the wound too fresh. It’s been six long years, but it still feels like it was yesterday. 

              I run until my lungs hurt. Until they can’t possibly expand any further and continue to endure what I put them through. Today I ran seven miles, which is not a first. It
is
,
however, the first time in a long while since I’ve ventured beyond my property line. I’m very careful not to run into anyone I know. The fewer people I see, the fewer questions that are asked. Questions I can’t give answers to.

              I straighten my body and stretch, resting my hands on my hips as I take several deep, long breaths. My heart is racing and I know it’s as much from the alcohol last night as it is the physical exertion I just put myself through.

              And then it begins all over again. I walk slowly and deliberately back to the house, again putting one foot in front of the other because it’s what you’re
supposed
to do. When I get there, I’ll take another shower because that’s what you do when you’re sweaty and dirty. I will wash and scrub myself, even though there’s no one there to care how I look. I’ll dress myself because respectable people don’t sit around naked, or at least that’s what Grams always told me as a child. When that daunting task is over, I’ll pour myself another drink and I’ll sit in my recliner, always leaning forward because there is no such thing as relaxation. Not in my world. Once I’ve had enough of that, once the memories start working their way into my heart and my mind, I’ll pull out that damn letter that I can’t let go of. The one that stays in my wallet and mocks me. The one that rips me to shreds
every
time I look at it.

              And so there it is. My life going in circles; the vicious cycle of one day blending into the next. No beginning and no end. A robotic, automatic world. Every. Day. The. Same.

              Until today. As I came around the side of the house, a man I hadn’t seen in years was waiting on my porch. He had been my partner and we’d been as close as two friends could be. I had deserted him the same way my angel had deserted me, only I didn’t leave him a note. I chickened out completely and left without a word. No ‘Goodbye’, no ‘Nice knowin’ ya’,
nothing
.

              I couldn’t imagine what he was doing here, but I’ll be damned if I couldn’t wait to find out. The closer I got the more obvious it became that something wasn’t right. The air changed and the atmosphere grew cold, causing chill bumps to skate their way across my skin. The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. There was only one reason my body would be reacting this way and it was a topic I didn’t want to discuss. 

              “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, angrily as I approached him.

              “We need to talk, man,” he responded, curtly. He looked smug, the same way he’d always been. I knew it was only a front, and an impossible habit to break after years of pretending to be someone you’re not.

              “No, I don’t think we do, Blake. I think you need to go. Turn around and go back to wherever you came from. I ain’t buyin’.” I proceeded to step around him and to the front door.

              “Fine. Have it your way. Just thought you’d want to know Heather is in danger.” He stood, silently waiting for my response. He was as cool as a cucumber with his Ray Ban shades covering his eyes. I knew that calm and collected demeanor well. It was ingrained in all undercover agents and it was as natural as breathing.

             
Heather
was in danger. Who the hell would want to harm her? I briefly wondered what kind of trouble she could’ve gotten herself into and then quickly realized I didn’t know
anything
about the person she was today. She could be in trouble for any number of things. Drugs, money, hanging with the wrong crowd, a speeding ticket…hell, the possibilities were endless. Just as I was about to write it off and tell Blake to get lost, I realized why the hair on the back of my neck was standing at attention and I had broken out in chill bumps. It wasn’t because of Heather at all.

              “Raul?” I asked with venomous grit to my voice. My muscles went rigid and I began to shake involuntarily. I felt sick to my stomach as I grabbed the door frame to steady myself.

              “One and the same,” he responded with a nod of his head. “Victor’s dead, Billy, and Raul has his sights on Heather. Call it retribution because you’re still alive.”

              I reacted hastily, quickly grabbing Blake by the collar and shoving him against the side of the house.

              “I
should
be dead!” I spat. “It would beat this hell I live in every damn day!” I was shaking as the adrenaline coursed through me and I knew I needed to get a grip. None of this was Blake’s fault. It was mine. I
should
have died. Heather would have been better off and I damn sure would have been, too.

              He grabbed my hands and struggled until I turned him loose. “Done now?” he huffed. I watched as his nostrils flared with each breath he took. He was angry, but I didn’t give a damn. When I didn’t answer his question, he roughly pushed me backwards and straightened his clothing.

              “What’s all this got to do with me? So Raul knows I’m alive.
Big deal
! Heather and I aren’t together in case you’ve forgotten,” I gritted through clenched teeth. I sure as hell couldn’t forget.

              “Just thought you’d want to know,” Blake explained. “I can’t help her. I’m still in.”

              I shook my head in response. He didn’t have to explain anything. I knew he was still working the gang and he was putting himself in danger by even being here.

              “Well, she doesn’t need me. She left
me
, remember?” I was pissed, but it wasn’t because he was here. It wasn’t even because of the situation. It was because I cared when I shouldn’t have.

              “Yeah, I remember, but that doesn’t mean she’s alright.” Still maintaining his collected demeanor, he looked out over the fields, his gaze never meeting mine.

              “What do you know?” I asked.

              “I know that Raul is one sick son of a bitch. Things have gotten much worse since you left, Billy. You cannot imagine the things….” His voice trailed off as he shook his head. “Look, I can’t tell you much. What I
can
tell you is Raul has been dabbling in sex trafficking. If he has his sights set on Heather, and I know he does, there’s little to nothing I can do about it. We’re so close and Tom would kill me if I blew this now. We’ve been working to bring Raul down for years. So the question is, you gonna step up or not?” He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting impatiently for me to answer. It was a simple yes or no, but for the life of me I couldn’t commit either way. Not right now.

              “Don’t know,” I answered, sharply and honestly. “Guess I’ll have to think about it.”

              Blake’s disappointment was obvious as he let out a huff of frustration. Well, he could just get in line with everyone else I’d let down. He wasn’t the first and he sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

              “This was a waste of time,” he said, sarcastically as he moved towards the steps. “Sorry I bothered you.”

              He bumped my shoulder with his as he walked past.

              “By the way, she’s at Tommy’s,” he muttered. I watched him get on his motorcycle and drive away, flipping me the bird once he was at a safe distance.

              I slammed my fist into the side of the house as I let out a string of profanities. It wasn’t from the pain, nor was it from the blood pouring from my knuckles. It was because I was fighting the irresistible urge to leave everything behind and rescue her, all the while telling myself that she wasn’t my problem, and that going back was too dangerous.

              I threw the screen door open wide, letting it slam into the house before banging closed again. I knew what I
had
to do and what I
needed
to do. No matter how many times I’d told myself that I
hated
her, or how many times I relived that awful night; no matter how many times I’d looked at that stupid letter that mocked me, I knew Heather was ingrained in me. She was imprinted on my heart and in my soul, what little was left. There was no way I could turn my back on her. Not now and not ever. Blake knew that or he wouldn’t have come.