The field to the cottage has turned into a muddy, grassy mess, but I move through it faster than I’ve ever moved before.  My feet are squishing inches deep into the mud and water.  Tom is right at my side, but I can barely see him through the crazy, frantic rain that is falling. I can just feel him.  We are already soaked through.  My hair is plastered to my head, and my shirt and jeans are completely wet.  It feels more like swimming, rather than walking through rain.

I’m nearly halfway to the cottage, I can see it just down the hill, when I feel Tom grab my arm.  He spins me around and I am suddenly nearly nose to nose with him.  He’s soaked as well, the rain has flattened his hair against his head.  Water droplets roll down his face, over his cheekbones and down the hollows of his cheeks.  I flinch slightly when he grabs me and when I turn we are so close I can see the heavy way he’s breathing, and the water droplets clinging to his eyelashes.

“What is going on, Charlie?!” He yells to be heard over the storm.  Still, I can barely hear him.  The rain, the thunder, my own thoughts, are all pounding through my head.  I wrench my arm out of his grip, though he’s not holding me that tightly.

“I don’t know!” I scream back.  He looks angry now, and I don’t know that I’ve ever really seen him look like that.  Never at me.  It scares me.  It worries me.  I hold back a sob and am eternally grateful that the rain is hiding my tears.

“What do you mean? Who the hell is that guy?!” Tom yells.  I can barely comprehend the fact that we are standing in the middle of a field during a hurricane. I want to say that this is all some terrible nightmare, but no…it’s real.  No amount of pinching is going to wake me up from this. 

“Is he your husband? Charlie?” His voice softens and his eyes look frantic, wounded.  Hurt.  It breaks my heart, because he is the absolute last person I would ever want to hurt. I can’t seem to speak, but he waits.

“For fucks sake, Charlie?! Are you married?!” He takes a step back, frustrated.  The rain pounds between us, and overhead another boom of thunder makes me jump.  It’s cold, and I am already shivering, despite myself.  My teeth chatter, and I feel as if I’m just rattling around.  Empty. Cold.

“I…” I start, but it’s hard to talk because my mouth feels numb.  The wind gusts and we both brace against it.  The rain stings as it flies sideways into our eyes.  Tom pulls his hood up, though it offers little protection.  He crosses his arms over his chest, his broad shoulders a stark line against the gray sky.

“I was married to Chase.  I’m…I’m not anymore.” I finally manage.  I feel sick as I say it.  Tom glares at me for what seems like the longest few minutes of my life, and then he just turns and walks away.  He’s a tall, thin black figure amongst a gray sky and murky brown green grass.  He moves quickly as he gets farther and farther away.  I stay back for only a moment, before another crack of thunder pushes me into action, and I follow him toward the cottage.

**** 

By the time I reach the cottage, it is raining so hard that it’s just running down my face and body.  I run inside the cottage and stand dripping on the hardwood floor.  The cottage is eerily quiet, save for the sound of the pounding rain outside.  It’s damp and cold inside, and I am shivering from being wet and upset.  I’m really not sure what to do with myself.  My brain is a mangle of thoughts, like a collision of cars at rush hour.  No one knows what to do, where to go, who to talk to.  It’s chaos.

Tom isn’t inside, and I see him outside the building, closing up shutters and moving things around.  I watch him for a minute, hypnotized by the sight of the gray, cold rain and his moving figure.  I want so badly to explain to him.  I want so badly to rewind and tell him everything from the very beginning.

I’m not sure what to do with myself.  I’m shaking all over, but I feel immobilized.  I move over toward the kitchen and sit down in what is really the only actual chair in the house.  A white, plastic folding chair at the folding table.  A minute later, Tom comes inside, seeming to bring the storm with him.  The front door opens and he steps inside, immediately making the space seem ten times smaller.

He’s dripping wet, and making puddles wherever he steps.  He looks up, pushing his hair off his forehead, and we immediately lock eyes.  He’s still incredibly mad.  I’m not scared of him.  I trust him too intently to be afraid of him, but there is something dangerous in his eyes at the moment.  It renders me farther speechless, if that’s possible.  He’s shaking as well, and his clothes are plastered to his slender frame.

“Do you have a dryer here?” He asks.  I nod, then stand up robotically and move toward the small hallway between the kitchen and the spare bedroom.  I lead him to the hallway closet, and open it up, revealing a stacked washer and dryer.  Tom nods.  He is still dripping, and we are both shivering. The heating in the cottage is oil, which makes it somewhat impractical and expensive to upkeep.  Usually, my grandparents would just have roaring fires in the hearth throughout the coldest parts of winter.  I wish we had a fire right now, as I can barely feel my hands and feet.

He takes a step back and opens up the dryer.  Then he’s unzipping his hoodie quickly, his fingers moving stiffly as if they are nearly frozen with cold.  I stand back, unmoving, unable to really think.  He pulls his tshirt off next, revealing his toned chest.  His skin is bluish white with cold, and from this distance I can see the veins in his arms and the slight goose bumps he has across his shoulders.  I swallow hard, and he looks up at me as he leans down and unzips his jeans.  Oh, for the love of buttercream.

Tom pulls off his socks, steps out of his jeans and then dumps all of his clothes in the dryer.

“Take yours off.” He gestures toward me, his voice unemotional.  I blink, but don’t move.  I’m shivering so hard at this moment that I am practically vibrating.

“Charlie.” His voice is much more gentle now.  “Fucks sake, Charlie. You’re going to get sick.” He sighs.  Tom takes a step toward me, and then gently, gingerly starts unzipping my sweatshirt.  I let him, my arms hanging tense at my sides.  He pushes my hoodie off my shoulders and then puts it in the dryer.  Next, he takes hold of the hem of my shirt.

“Lift.” He says softly and I lift my arms, feeling five years old again.  Despite feeling numb, physically and emotionally, my heart is racing.  Tom pulls my shirt off, then he leans down, crouching in front of me in only his boxers.  He touches my ankle, and then gently lifts my right foot, prying my wet Chuck Taylor off of me.  He peels off my sock as well, and then does the same to left side. I balance myself slightly, touching his bare shoulder.  He stands up, mere inches from me.  He smells like rain and earth, and I shake harder.  He puts his hands on my hips, and I shake my head slightly, my cold hands stopping his.

“I got it.” I whisper, my voice barely audible.  He nods and doesn’t speak, and I numbly undo the button and zipper on my jeans and yank them off, hobbling slightly in the narrow hallway.  It’s about as sexy as a one legged pirate, but I’m not known for my sex appeal.  I hand him my wet jeans, and he puts them in the dryer, then turns it on.

For a minute, the only sound is the rumble of the dryer, the constant pound of the rain, and our slow, rhythmic breathing.  He turns and disappears into the bathroom, but doesn’t close the door.  I stand, shivering in the narrow hall in my undies.  I hear the water turn on, and then a moment later he reappears.

“Take a shower. Then we’re going to talk.” He points toward the bathroom, and I nod dumbly.  I slide past him, and disappear into the already steamy bathroom.

**** 

I take a shower quickly, trying not to use all of the hot water.  I’m sure Tom will want one as well.  The water defrosts me a bit, and I start feeling a little more normal.  I feel exhausted though, and thoughts of bed are invading my mind.  I know Tom wants to talk.  He deserves some answers.

I wrap myself in a towel and leave the warm steaminess of the bathroom.  Surprisingly, the main floor is much warmer.  It smells amazing too—fire and a bit of smoke.  I walk out into the main room, and see that Tom has started a fire in the fireplace.  He’s not in the room though, so I make my way upstairs to change. 

When I get to the top of the stairs, I can see Tom sitting in front of the fireplace in the corner of the room.  He’s still in just his boxers, and he has his long legs stretched out in front of him.  The strangled light coming in from the picture window is gray from the storm outside, and the fire is reflecting on his skin, making him glow orange.  He turns his head when I get to the top of the stairs.

“I’m finished.” I say softly.  He nods, and then stands up slowly.  I watch the muscles in his back move, and the sinews of his arms roll as he stands.  Things feel entirely too confusing right now.

He doesn’t say anything as he brushes by me, and makes his way downstairs.  I watch him.  He’s graceful in the most masculine sense of the word.  He moves easily, and I know it’s the runner in him.  He’s so sure on his feet.

 I walk over to my make shift dresser (which is a cheap little bookcase that Mandy was throwing away), and I smooth on lotion.  I feel like I need some routine, so I can calm myself down.  I can’t get Chase’s face out of my head. His big, angry mouth.  The way he clenches his fists, and the aggressive way he always seems to invade my space. I get dressed quickly in pajama pants and a tank top, then pull on my softest, most comfy cardigan.  I brush out my long, tangled hair, and then braid it quickly in one of my Katniss braids. 

The fire looks ridiculously inviting, and so I grab the comforter, blankets, and some pillows off my mystical bed and I arrange them on the floor in front of the fireplace.  I sit down, and although my body is tired, my mind is wide awake.  I sit cross legged, clutching a pillow against my chest as I stare into the hypnotic flames.  Chase was the biggest reason why I didn’t want to come back to Maryland.  But I thought I would come back alone.  I thought I’d be here a few weeks, get things sorted, and then go back to LA, no harm done.  I hadn’t expected Tom to show up.  I hadn’t expected to stay here for so long.  But things have been so busy, I haven’t even started interviewing to replace Krissy and Greg.  The thought makes me even more tired.

I’m not sure how long I’m sitting there before I hear Tom come back upstairs.  He’s quiet, and he sits down next to me on my blanket nest, and hands me a mug.  I look down and take it, realizing he’s made coffee.  I smile at him, and take a sip.  Perfect, as always, and I can tell he’s added something to it.  Maybe some Bailey’s. 

“Are you warmed up?” He asks, breaking the silence.  I nod and look over at him.  He’s wearing gym shorts, and his tshirt and hoodie from before, both dry now. 

“I’m really sorry, Tom.” I set my mug down on the brick hearth, and I turn to him.  I move so we are facing each other, my knees bumping into the front of his shins.  He’s calmed down a lot, and now he just looks tired and perhaps a bit sad.  The anger isn’t in his eyes anymore.  I feel so grateful for him, in this moment.  There are few people who would react like he has and the fact that he hasn’t just completely jumped ship is beyond my comprehension.

“I don’t want you to apologize, Charlie. I really don’t.” He looks at me with those pool blue eyes.  One side of his face is warm orange from the fire, the other side dark and shadowy.  The fire is our only light at this point.  It is only early evening, but outside it is nearly dark with the storm.  Thunder rumbles above us and Tom reaches forward and puts a large, warm hand on my knee. 

“I just…I wish you’d told me. I tell you everything…everything.” His eyes are thoughtful, and completely vulnerable.  “I just don’t understand why you felt you couldn’t trust me with this, Charlie.”

I feel terrible. I want to just dive under the blankets and stay there.  I feel so bad and ashamed that I’ve hurt him like this.  But for the past five years, I’ve just been working on burying it.  Forgetting it.  Chase hasn’t existed to me for quite some time.

“I do trust you.  I trust you more than…” I have to stop talking, because I can feel the tears at the back of my eyes and my throat starting to constrict.  I hate crying.  I would rather do just about anything else.

“Charlie, please.” His voice hits me deep in my stomach.  “Just tell me what’s going on.” He asks softly.  I lean forward, and press my lips to his hand, still resting on my knee.  He touches my face and I feel my walls come crumbling down.  The words start spilling out of me, having been pent up inside for five long years.

“I met Chase about seven years ago.  I mean, I’ve known him pretty much my whole life, but he was three years ahead of me in school, so I didn’t get to know him until the year I started working at his family’s restaurant. His whole family is practically royalty around here.  Chase’s Chesapeake Inn is his restaurant now, and at the time I was just…a stupid girl, who bought into his whole….shtick.” I feel sick again, thinking of my 22 year old self.  Thinking about how easily charmed I had been.  It had been so easy to believe in the fairy tale.  The rich, popular guy, falling for the girl from the poorer side of time.  At the time, Mom hadn’t had the B&B.  The Smokey Oyster had just been the big house, and my dad was still alive, keeping everything under his iron rule.

“We fell in love, I guess.” I look at Tom, and he’s watching me with his intense eyes.  His hair is all soft and fluffy looking, and I feel this overwhelming need to hug him, but he doesn’t move so neither do I.  He’s just watching and listening. 

“It all happened really fast.  We met, and six months later, we were getting married.  I hardly knew him, but I just…fell for it.” I grab my coffee mug and take a sip, feeling my throat dry up. Tom licks his lips and shifts slightly, but he’s still listening intently.

“I’m guessing married life wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He says softly.  I shake my head, and feel my chin quiver, but I don’t cry.  I fight it, hard.  I can’t talk for a minute and Tom waits.

“He got more and more possessive, as time went by.” My voice is a whisper, it’s the only way I can talk without it cracking.  “I ignored it at first.  Thinking I was doing something wrong or I could make it better.  But then, he started reminding me of my Dad.  The way he talked to me, the way he treated me.  He always had to know what I was doing, and where I was going.  I felt…smothered.  I felt scared more often than not when I was around him.” I bit my lip and felt the tension in my jaw.  Tom put a hand on my knee again, covering my hand that is resting there. 

“We started fighting a lot, about stupid things and about big things. I wanted to really give Tiny Baker a try, and he wanted me to just....stay at home and be his wife.” I pause, but then push forward.  “We were pretty drunk one night.  Both of us.  I brought up the idea of starting Tiny Baker and we started fighting.” I have to stop again.  Tom is totally silent.  Thunder hits again, and it rumbles through the small house. 

“I don’t really remember everything that happened.  I remember him hitting me.  And then…I just remember waking up in the hospital.” It is hard for me to say.  I haven’t honestly told this story to anyone.  Not like this.  And I feel my eyes start to fill.  Tom knows me though.  He doesn’t try to hug me, or say anything, he just listens and waits for me.  I look up at him, his face blurred by the tears in my eyes. 

“He told everyone that we were drunk and I fell off the pier near his boat.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own anymore.  “Most people believed him, because he’s Chase James, golden boy.  His father owns the pier, and half the town.  His family owns the most popular restaurant.  Why would he lie?” I let the tears fall, because I know I can’t stop them anymore.  They are coming at their own pace, and though I’m not sobbing, I can’t stop the tears.

“I had some broken ribs and a black eye.  Who knew you could get a black eye from falling off a pier.” I say with a shaky, humorless laugh. I hear the anger in my voice, but I let it go.  “When I got out of the hospital, I had already made up my mind.  I was never going to let him touch me again.  So I left Maryland.  I ran the hell away.  I took what I could, I took Tiny Baker, and I ran as far as I could.  And then I met you two weeks later.” I whisper.  Tom has his knees pulled up near his chest, and his long arms folded over the top of his legs.  His hand is up near his mouth, covering part of his chin.  He’s not looking at me now, his eyes focused on the bright flames in the fireplace.

“The divorce was finalized a few months ago.  It took awhile because Chase wouldn’t sign the papers.  And I wouldn’t come back to make him.  I don’t know why he suddenly decided to sign, but he did.  I got the notification from my lawyer.  I thought I’d never have to talk to him again.  I never meant to hurt you, Tom. I never meant to lie to you. I just…I just couldn’t talk about it.  I felt humiliated and ashamed, and then I was just completely angry.  I never wanted to be in a relationship like my parents had, and yet I had walked right into one quite willingly.  But, I only let him hurt me once. I only let him hit me that one time, and then I got away.” I wipe my eyes roughly.

“At least I did that. At least I was able to get away.”

The silence between us is deafening, and I would give anything to know what he’s thinking.  A thought runs quickly through my mind that maybe Tom doesn’t believe me either.  Maybe he believes what everyone else in this shitty town believes.  But that idea is quickly kicked to the curb by rational thought.  I’m telling the truth, and he knows it.  I just don’t know how he feels about me now.  As a woman, as a friend.  I’ve lied to him about something crucial to my past, and now I’ve bared it all.

He’s quiet for some time, not moving, just looking at the fire.  It is excruciating and right when I think I can’t take it anymore, Tom turns and looks at me.

“If I had been here, Charlie…” He stops and shakes his head.  “If I had been here, if I had known you then...you know he’d be dead right now, right?”