Archer's Voice(90)

I felt like Archer was a ticking time bomb, ready to blow at any minute. I wanted to help him through it, but I wasn't sure how. I felt helpless, unequipped. I wiped the tears away and sat there for a while longer, trying to come up with a solution.

Maybe we needed to get away from this town–just throw our stuff in my car and drive away somewhere new. God, that sounded familiar. Wasn’t that exactly the idea Connor Hale had had too? And look how that turned out. Not well.

And anyway, how would that make Archer feel? He was already struggling with the fact that he didn't feel like a real man. How would it make him feel when I got a job somewhere new and he sat around in some apartment all day? At least here he had his land, his projects, his house, his lake…

Although now, I'd probably ruined it for him. My face crumbled with the guilt that washed over me. It'd taken him so long to feel comfortable enough to leave his house and now he was going to feel like hiding on his property again–worried that people would be whispering and staring at him, judging his disability, making him feel less-than.

After a few minutes, I got up wearily and took Phoebe out and then returned inside and took a shower, my mind still turning over what had happened at the parade. I needed to go to him and apologize. I hadn't meant to blurt out the secret he hadn't wanted told. But I had. And now he was the one who was going to have to live with the consequences if there were any.

I pulled on some warm clothes, unable to shake the chill that felt like it went down to my bones, and dried my hair slowly.

I laid down on my bed and let the sadness wash over me again. I was weak and I couldn't see any optimism in the situation, other than the fact that I loved Archer desperately. I thought maybe it was because I was so insanely tired. Maybe I just needed to rest for a few minutes…

I opened my eyes what I thought was a few minutes later and glanced at the clock. Oh God, I had slept for two hours. I bolted up and smoothed my hair back.

I needed to go to Archer. He would be wondering why I hadn't come directly to him. He had turned away from me… but I had given him a few hours time. Hopefully, he was in a better place now. God, please don't be angry with me, I thought, as I got in my car and started the engine.

A few minutes later, I was walking through his gate and down to his house. I knocked and turned the knob and utter silence greeted me, the twilight outside the window just barely lighting the room in front of me.

"Archer?" I called, an ominous feeling rushing through my body. I shook it off and called again, "Archer?" Nothing.

It was then that I saw the letter propped up on the table behind the couch with my name written on it.

With shaking hands, I picked it up and unfolded it, fear enveloping my body.



Bree,

Don't blame yourself–what happened at the parade today wasn't your fault. It was mine, all mine.

I'm leaving, Bree. I'm taking my uncle's truck. I don't know where I'm going yet, but I need to go somewhere. I need to figure things out, and maybe even learn a little bit more about who I can be in the world–if I can be anyone at all. The very thought of it is filling me with fear, but staying here–feeling the things I'm feeling– seems like the more terrifying alternative. I know that's hard to understand. I don't even fully understand it myself.

I thought I lost you twice, and just the possibility destroyed me. Do you know what I did when you were just a few minutes late and I heard the ambulances going toward your house? I threw up on my lawn and then I took off running to you. It scared me to death. And the thing is, there's always going to be something–not just an ambulance, but the day you're late coming home from work, or the guy who flirts with you, or… a million different scenarios I can't even fathom right now. There's always going to be something that threatens to take you away from me, even if it's something small, and even if it's only in my own mind. And eventually, that's going to be the thing that destroys us. I'll start hurting you because you won't be able to fix me–you'll never be able to reassure me enough. You'll just end up resenting me because you'll constantly have to carry the weight for both of us. I can't let that happen. I asked you not to let me destroy what we have together, but I don't think I'm capable of doing anything else.

Last night, after you fell asleep, I couldn't stop thinking about the story you told me about the embroidery pictures your mom used to make. And I've been thinking about that today, too–and I want to believe so badly that what you said is true–that something beautiful can come from all the ugliness and mess–from all the pain, from all the things that have made me who I am. I want to see what's on the other side. But I think in order to do that, I need to be the one to turn it around. I need to be the one to take those steps. I need to be the one to understand how it all comes together, how it all makes sense–what my own picture looks like.

I'm not asking you to wait for me–I'd never be that selfish. But please don't hate me. I never, ever want to hurt you, but I'm no good to you. I'm no good to anyone right now, and I need to learn if maybe I can be.

Please understand. Please know that I love you. Please forgive me.

Archer



My hands were shaking like leaves now and tears were coursing down my cheeks. I let out a sob and dropped the letter, bringing my hand to my mouth.