Chapter 38

I tried not dwelling on my feelings. It wasn't like there was anything I could do with them. So, I tried just getting on with my life. Which was not any easier.

I was aware I could do nothing to change August's mind. I knew it was an easy choice: tell the truth otherwise this shit keeps up. However, 'this shit' apparently included getting framed and arrested. So at this point, I didn't care that I couldn't change his mind. I didn't care that visiting my oh-so-lovely neighbor's house wouldn't help me. But I was incredibly pissed and that's what I did. I marched over to confront this bastard.

It was dark out when I crossed through my backyard and into August's. I wanted to avoid Blake's camera aimed at our houses. And in order to avoid Sid overhearing anything, I would make sure to invite myself inside. Nobody could know why August was really gunning for me. So, pounding on his sliding glass door, that's what I did. When he finally appeared, and slid the door open in surprise, I invited myself inside. Well, I more just barged in.

Stunned by my visit, the bright light from his kitchen I stepped into showed the shock in his wide eyes. "Wha—?"

"Took you long enough, I was about to die from the mosquitoes," I grumbled, taking the liberty to slide his door shut roughly. "Or maybe death by mosquitoes was just next on your 'How to Destroy Ruth' list!

I was too pissed to care about anything or even be scared of him. It explained the raised eyebrow calling me crazy as he just stared at me. Honestly, maybe I was nuts. I had a restraining order against him for reason. Yet, I was standing in his kitchen, staring daggers at him and scowling. At least I wasn't in purple pajamas anymore; I changed into a pale yellow tee and jean shorts before stomping over here with no plan.

Making sure there was at least a few feet between us, he just cautiously watched me. He was in sweats and a graphic tee, as if he was ready for bed, but he was wide awake and alert. "I don't know what you're doing... but you should leave. I will also point out since you are on my property, I'm not violating the restraining order."

"Well, it's not like we could have a chat out in the open. There is more than one psycho in my life that likes to spy on me, so I wanted him out of hearing range."

A cocky little grin appeared on his lips. "You have no proof that I am spying on you."

I marched up to him and jutted a finger in his face. "Even if I did, it's not like it would have mattered! It's a done fucking deal; I have a misdemeanor and fines thanks to you!"

He just stared right down into my eyes. "You might have more serious charges in the future if you don't change your mind."

I dropped my hand, taken aback. "The fuck does that mean?"

He halfheartedly shrugged. "Guess we will see. I mean vandalizing a dumpy small-town business isn't as bad as... I don't know... burning down a building worth millions. Or maybe... doing something even worse for you personally. Where perhaps CPS gets called. I don't know, there are so many possibility that could land you doing actual hard time."

A shiver crept up my spine. A shiver that lingered and dispersed throughout my body. His words... opened up a whole new horror-filled world of possibilities I couldn't handle.

"I liked you better when you were cutting breaks," I said in a daze.

"So did I," he said with a sad smile. "You forced me to escalate things though. I warned you."

He did warn me it would get worse, but I didn't think it would take this route. I figured the physical sabotage would heighten (like my cut breaks). Instead, he was gunning to frame me and ruin any future I could have. I just... I couldn't believe it. Only next time, it wouldn't be a small auto shop, it would end with me in prison if he pulls it off.

"You can't do that to me, that's just... insane," I breathed in astonishment.

"Why not? You framed me for plenty," he said casually, but with accusing eyes. "Because of you, my restaurant was deemed unsafe when it wasn't. Because of you, people think I'm violent and harassed you when I didn't. Because of your lies, I'm broke, in debt, and divorced. The moment you get a taste of your own medicine... you think it's unfair? When you deserve this and I didn't?" Scoffing, he ran a hand down his long face and stubble. "I'm a good person, but I'll do what I got to do. It's not like I have anything to lose."

Since August moved next door, I slowly was improving on dealing with my emotions and facing what I did to him. After all, with him around, it forced me to think about what I did. But it was still difficult, especially when he threw things in my face I still hated thinking about. It made a lump form in my throat, but it didn't dim my anger at all. Hell, if anything, my frustration grew. He just justified ruining my life – and I had no right to stop him because his words were absolutely right! I deserved all of this and I hated that!

Forcing my eyes to stop watering, I scowled up at him. "I've already told you, okay, I know it's all me! I know I'm the piece of shit here, okay?" I paused, swallowing before my voice could break. "But don't think about me! If I didn't have my kids, I wouldn't care. I would tell the truth. I would – as embarrassing and shameful as it is, I swear I would. But I need to be there for my kids! I need to be in their life and if I reveal what I did, what a real piece of shit I was, their dad wouldn't let me see them. Don't you understand that?! I need to be there for my kids!"

"Who are you kidding? You need them more than they need a screwed up drunk mother. They would be better off without you."

"They wouldn't! I was the one who always took care of them while their dad worked and went to school, I was—"

"I don't really care." Crossing his arms, he back up and rested against the kitchen counter. "I'm not demented. I'm not playing games. It's cause and effect. I'm giving you great advice: tell everyone what you did. If you do, you at least won't end up with a felony of some kind. Like I said, I'm still brainstorming, I'm not sure what I'm going to have you do yet."

"Jesus, just stop! What do you want? Your wife and family back?! I will tell them," I said, unable to keep the pleading note from my voice. "Like I already told you before, I will tell them the truth and convince her to come back to you. I'll tell her I made up what happened, I'll tell her why, and I'll tell her everything. Plus, I will give you money. Shit, soon, I will have enough money from my own divorce to pay you what I sued you for—"

Bending forward, level with my eyes, he just shook his head. "No, Ruth. Publicly. Everyone. Especially our landlord. I feel it would especially hurt you if he learned the truth."

Exhaling deeply with a groan, I stepped back from his intense yet amused gaze, I clenched my fists at my side. What the hell was I thinking coming here out of anger? I knew nothing would be accomplished. All it did was make me feel guilty, scared, and even more pissed. "And if I don't? You going to keep spying on me, you fucking creep?!" I shouted. "You going to put me behind bars?! Fuck me over?! Or you just going to kill me if that doesn't work?!

Sighing, he waved his hand down, gesturing for me to be quiet. "Hush, we don't want a domestic charge now, do we? I wouldn't kill you, you're crazy if you think I would try anything like that."

"Um, bitch, remember my breaks?"

"I made sure you wouldn't get seriously hurt, I knew what I was doing. I was just hoping it would scare some sense into you, but you're still being a dumb selfish bitch. But hey, keep it up, sending you to prison would be a favor to your kids."

I knew this entire thing was really my fault. I wasn't in denial about that; I was aware that between the two of us, I was the piece of shit. I knew I was selfish, I knew I would be a mess without my kids. But I also wanted was the best for my kids! Truly, I did – and yes, that did mean for me to be in their lives. Their dad loved them very much and he was capable of taking care of them. Hell, in many ways, he was a better parents than me. Before this though, I was with them more than he was. I took care of them even if I was absent about it. Even if I put my needs first many times, I was there more because I didn't work constantly like Matt. I might have been a shitty mom, but I was still there while Matt went to school and focused on his career. And with me gone now, I knew they were not getting the attention they needed no matter how hard Matt was trying.

So for August to suggest that my kids would be better without me... when I was already red in the face with fury... that did it.

Lips in a tight line, feeling sick with disgust, there was no thinking. "You know what, yeah, lets risk a fucking domestic charge," I said, marching up to him, and launching a fist into his face as hard as I could.

Shit! Ow, ow, fucking ow! Dear god! Pathetically, from that punch that was a surprise to both of us, I was the one that made the most noise. Immediately, my hand was throbbing in pain! Like serious pain! How do people do that and make it look natural?! Groaning hard through tight teeth, I backed away and cradled my hand. At least he couldn't see the embarrassing pain on my face.

Cringing from the impact, he spun around to lean his upper body against the counter, as if to get himself together. "Jesus," he breathed, cupping the side of his face.

That's when I turned and stormed out the back sliding door. Tears finally spilled over when the night air hit me. Walking back, mind spinning, I clutched my stinging hand. That punch was not worth it and did nothing for my anger or my newly found panic. It was just the cherry on top of all the stupidity.

Just as I crossed into my backyard, I heard clapping in the distance. It was coming from the shadows towards the treeline. Narrowing my eyes towards the sound, I continued walking as I shouted, "Fuck off, rat-face!"

The clapping stopped. "What? I was just applauding your punch," he faintly called back from the blackness. "Pretty stupid though to go inside. He's psychotic."

This was exactly why I went into August's house. So Sid couldn't hear anything – including the truth that he wasn't just some psycho. Regardless, my tears didn't stop, and neither did my panic after I reached my house and went inside. My fear, my anger, my distress, and my desperation pushed me to my limits.

I wasn't sure if I would have the guts to actually do this; I could decide that later. For now though, I was determined to at least be prepared. After roughly sliding my backdoor shut, I grabbed my phone (with the hand I didn't just break) and looked through my contacts. Finally, I found Jasmine's name. I didn't even care how awkward it would be or if she would even answer. Blinded with anger and panic, I called without hesitation.

"Hello?" she answered, sounding unsure. I didn't blame her. The last time we talked was several months ago, before everything happened that led to my old friends cutting me out.

"Hey, Jasmine, it's Ruth!" I said too enthusiastically, holding the phone to my ear with one hand while my other soaked in the sink of cool water. Thankfully, it helped ease some the string that vibrated in my knuckles. "I know it's been a bit, and I'll understand if you don't want to talk or still be friends, but... well, I'll just get to the point. I was wondering if you were still, um, selling that stuff?" I asked, immediately cringing at my bold question.

My visit with August already made me feel like shit about myself – and this definitely did not help. This marked the first time I was trying to buy drugs. The few times I got high with my friends or at parties, Jasmine always supplied it. Even then, she knew I never bought drugs before.

Because of that (and the surprise of hearing from me), she didn't answer for a long moment. "Um... yeah, I still do."

"I don't mean to be that person... but would you be willing to sell me some? Obviously, I'll pay whatever it costs."

"Sure, but... you never wanted to buy—"

"I know, it's not for me, it's for someone else. I just don't know who else to go to. Is there a time we could maybe meet up?"

"Anytime really. Even tonight if you want."

***

I had no idea what I was going to do. I wasn't this conflicted before, but then again, I didn't know August was planning on framing me for more serious crimes. Knowing how bad this really was, I forced myself to continue contemplating this difficult choice: to tell the truth or not.

Ideally, the 'not telling the truth' option would be best – if I could avoid the consequences. Which meant I needed to get August arrested before he gets me arrested. If I decide to dig myself even deeper in guilt, it would mean going into his house and planting the cocaine I bought from Jasmine.

Yep, I did buy some from her – and was not proud. The little baggie was hidden up high in my closet. Though it wasn't for my use, just having it in my house, knowing what I might do, felt godawful. My guilt was through the roof; I was filled with anxiety, but also determination and anger. I didn't know which emotion to follow or what I was going to do. Honestly, I was tired of all of it. All the drama, guilt, stress, the shit I didn't want in my life anymore. But no matter what anyone thinks, it just was not that easy to tell the truth. The second I share with everyone what I did, there was no digging myself out of that hole.

After punching August, I managed avoiding Blake for less than a day. I wish it could have been longer. I wanted my feelings for him to die, I was mentally drained, and I also didn't want him seeing my bruised knuckles before they could heal. Blake learning I went over to August's house was something I didn't need. The last thing I wanted was to make him more angry or more worried. Plus, my hand looked terrible; it was almost as embarrassing as getting arrested in pajamas. Though they already looked half healed, they were still sore, red, and puffy.

Despite that, I was still able to use that hand to paint. Which was what I was did the entire following day. It was nice and relaxing (as much as I could relax), but the thoughts and stress never stopped. Hell, I was so ashamed I bought those drugs, that I didn't even tell my dad about anything, including August's whole framing plan I learned about. Then again, dad could suck a dick for a while. I was still upset he left me in jail.

It was about 4:30 when I finished painting for the day. Not long after I cleaned it all up, my phone vibrated. I already had a guess who it was – and was not excited to look. Not only did Blake text me though, he was also trying to ruin my plan on avoiding him.

You free for just a few minutes? Come over to my house if you can, I want you to meet a few people.

I took a moment to respond. I took my time, smoked a cigarette, and contemplated it. First of all, I was trying not to see him for at least another day. And obviously, I never liked meeting people. However, I knew he was showing that potential new tenant the house I decorated. It would be nice to hear what they thought of it.

After I tapped the end of my cigarette into the ashtray, I texted him back. Okay.

Tossing aside my painting clothes, I threw on a pink blouse and jean shorts. Sliding on sandals, making sure my make-up was still good, I headed out into the evening summer heat. The whole time, I kept my hands tucked casually in my pockets.

Blake was standing in his front lawn with a family of three. The couple was maybe in their 40s, with a little girl at their side. Once I reached them, Blake proudly announced to me that they would be our new neighbors. So, I had to put on a happy face and be polite. Actually, for how much work it was to act nice, it made me realize just how shitty my mood was.

Blake introducing me as the person that put their home together did make me feel a little better though. "This is Ruth, she works around here for me. She decorated and did everything to get the house ready for you," he said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Lilian, and I just wanted to say... you have a great sense of style," she said, offering me her hand.

Oh. A handshake. Go figure. Staring at her hand for a moment, I internally sighed. Why couldn't she have offered me her other hand to shake? It wasn't like I could just use my left hand; I would end up shaking the outside of her hand like an idiot. But I didn't need Blake seeing my bruised hand. It just wasn't worth it. So... I chose to look the dumbest person in the world.

Sticking out my left hand, I shook the outside of her hand instead of her palm. I tried not dying from the awkwardness. They all – including the damn kid – looked at me weird. Trying not to blush in embarrassment, I acted completely normal. "Thanks, I'm glad you liked it! We've been really fixing up the place around here, a lot of repairs, and improvements," I rambled in a nice voice, tucking my hand quickly away again.

"Oh, um, well it certainly looks nice and homey for sure, both inside and out," the lady said, smiling and hiding how confusing that handshake was.

Though the couple hid how much of dumbass they thought I was, Blake's eyes lingered on me with suspicion. A second later, he went on to introduce me to the husband and the daughter, who were polite and nice too. The woman, Lillian, seemed to forget about my unconventional handshake. Actually after a bit, she didn't want to stop talking to me. With my sour mood, it would have been more annoying... if she didn't intrigue me.

She had highlighted brown hair, bold blue make-up, and an outfit that matched a lot of my clothes. It added a bit more weight to her words. "You know, Ruth, you have a wonderful eye for color and style. I was telling Mr. McCormick about my work, and he said you just threw together our house with stuff he had stored away – which I thought was lovely and imaginative. It's technically not my style, but I liked how you... improvised and just jumped right into it!"

Great, she was a talker – and too enthusiastic. At least it was over stuff I found interesting and I was flattered she liked what I did. "Oh yeah? That's nice of you to say, thank you."

"She actually paints too," Blake added. "That city-scape in the master bedroom is hers."

"Really?!" she asked, eyes all wide.

While her hubby went inside with their daughter to do paperwork, we stayed outside and chatted. I wasn't social like her, but we agreed on a lot. Like... everything regarding country living. The bugs, the heat, and nothingness. It was honestly super nice! I guess they were moving out here to be closer to her husband's elderly parents. Somehow, she would still be able to do her design work out here over the computer, which was cool. She even offered to show me some of her work sometime.

Despite my mood, and not liking people, I was more interested than I expected – and it was a pleasant chat surprisingly. Before we could share more that we disliked about the outside, she was needed inside to sign a few things. So, I excused myself and headed home.

Since Blake was busy with his new tenants, I thought I could get away with avoiding him for the rest of the night. I should have known better; the sweet bastard always found time for me unfortunately.

A knock echoed through my house at nine at night. From where my ass was depressingly slumped into the couch, I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. For how stupid I've been lately, the last thing I needed was someone I felt super vulnerable around. Not to mention, I felt like shit – and if he saw my hand, he would feel like shit too. I just needed to avoid him for maybe one more day until the swelling wouldn't be noticeable.

So, tucking my hand in my pocket, I stood up and answered the door. At least I was still dressed and had my make-up on. Not sure how many days in a row I could survive him seeing me look like a mess. "Hey," I said, opening the door.

Wearing his marina uniform from earlier, his gray button up and khakis, he offered a soft smile. "Hey, I don't mean to bother you, I just wanted to talk to you for a bit." He carefully looked to the left and right of my front yard. "Do you mind if I come in?" Knowing Sid was still around, he clearly wasn't comfortable having any conversation overheard.

I gave him a pointed look, conveying that being in my house, alone with me, at night, wasn't much better.

"I won't be long, it's just about the new tenants and some work we will have to do," he said, offering my stalker an innocent explanation for this late night visit.

"Alright."

However, when he came in and I shut the door, he was clearly concerned. Pursing his lips, he sat down on the couch, watching me carefully. "So what's been going on?" he asked lightly, even though his eyes critically noted my hand in my pocket.

"Not much. Just in a bad mood lately is all," I said, unsure what to even use as an excuse. "The stress of everything is getting to me. Him framing me didn't help."

"That's understandable for sure."

Sitting down on the other end of the couch, I added, "Yeah, just... it's hard. Who knows what August is going to do next." That was basically all I could really reveal. Like Sid and Matt, Blake was given the same fake story: I sued the dude next door and that alone was why he was looking for revenge.

Shifting to face me, resting his arms on his knees, his eyes found mine. "So what was that about earlier? With that weird handshake?"

"I... I don't know, I'm just distracted today and you know how I'm not really a people person."

"Uh-huh. Can I see your hand?"

So much for trying. Fuck me. Sighing, I removed my right hand from my pocket, revealing my busted and gross looking knuckles.

Blake's brows dipped in focus and he slid down the couch to me. He didn't look as surprised as he did worried. Gingerly, he guided my wrist closer and examined it with his other hand. Intricately, he traced his index finger along my knuckles. All the while, it was hard ignoring how close he was or his gentle but rough hands. I could feel his warmth, hear his breath, and I caught his scent. It was a nice spicy warm musk and mix of nature.

Despite his concern, he let out a small chuckle after a minute of him silently looking it over. "Was this the first time you punched someone?"

"Yeah and it's going to be the last for how much it hurt."

"Or you can just learn how to punch."

"True."

After a moment, he returned my hand and rested it on my lap. "Or, even better, you could just let me know next time you want to slug August and I'll do it for you."

Well... I know I shouldn't be surprised that he figured me out yet again, but I was. How in the world did he already know? Then again, how many other people would I have punched? Looking away, I pursed my lips. "I just, I was so angry, I just stormed over to his house and did it without thinking, okay?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment. "Ruth, I know things are more complicated than you've let on."

Closing my eyes, that was the last thing I wanted to hear. Like the last fucking thing. There was a lot in my terrible past I eventually told Blake about. Not this though. I couldn't even think about telling him what really happened with August. So for him to even suspect there was more he didn't know... it immediately made my chest swirl with nervousness.

"What do you mean?" I asked evenly, opening my eyes to his.

"Well... during that breakdown you had in my house, you said a lot. You said you deserve everything he is doing to you." Pausing, as if cautious to intrude, he searched my eyes and spoke in slower voice. "You said you did something on purpose and that you can't give in or... something like that, I can't fully recall."

When I broke down crying on his couch not long ago... I spouted off a lot without thinking. I didn't realize just how much until this moment. And it scared me – bad. "Blake, I-I can't right now, okay?" I said shakily, trying to stand.

Before I could, he caught my arm, keeping me next to him and his intense blue gaze. "I'm not asking you to. I'm not prying, not asking questions, not digging or trying to make you uncomfortable," he said, moving closer, leg pressing against mine. Cupping my cheek, he tilted my head towards him so I had to meet his eyes. "I just know... more happened than you just punching him. And I can see it has you shook up and panicked."

Fuck, him just talking about that made me almost as panicked. Swallowing, I bit the inside of my mouth. From him, my feelings, my mood, and him suspecting more... I was too vulnerable to just be staring into his eyes. So I leaned away from his hand, looking down and avoiding his eyes. "Look, I know, you don't have to stare at me and... tell me all these nice things like you always do. That you won't push me to say anything. But, I-I cannot tell you, no matter what."

"Why not? Because you think I'll judge you?"

I scoffed, not even sure what to say. What happened and what I did messed up my emotions. So much that I couldn't think about it easily. Then, for him to voice he knows there is more... it felt so dangerous and scary. I tried burying it all from him, and yet here he was holding a shovel. I was scared that any word, anything I said, would help him start digging.

So when I didn't say anything, breathing hard, I felt his hand find my cheek again. Inching closer, he made me tilt my head and meet his eyes again. "You might be able to guess what I'll say to you at this point. But I'm here for you, not me. I don't need answers, but I feel you need to get it out. I feel what is holding you back is fear. Fear I will be done, judge you, hate you, I don't even know."

"You will."

Dropping his hand, his blue sweet eyes turned warm and sympathetic. "You keep saying that. Yet after everything I learned about you... here I am."

"I know, you have accepted everything I told you, but you—"

"Have I ever seemed like the type of man that has a lot of drama in my life?" he cut me off, smiling sweetly.

I didn't expect his random words or know where they came from. "Why? No, obviously, you have zero drama."

"Yeah, I'm drama free. You are not. You have tons and tons of drama in your life. You have baggage, stress, and a dramatic past. I can tell you use to love and thrive in drama."

"Ouch."

"Hold on," he defended with a light smile and voice, holding my eyes steadily with his. And with each second, it calmed my nerves. "My point is, you have a lot of drama and issues going on in your life. You know I'm the opposite; I hate and try to avoid drama. So why would I be here, willing to listen, and get involved with your problems?"

"Because you want to fuck me," I said unexpectedly with a laugh, unable to help myself.

Staring into those eyes on his, his focus cracked. He looked away, shy and surprised, and his smile widened into a bright grin. "I mean... that's irrelevant," he laughed.

Despite my anxiety, I couldn't help but tease. "Is it though? I don't know... why else would a guy like you subject himself to all my drama?"

Sitting so closely next to each other, my heart continued skipping beats when he glanced back up to me. "First of all, I'm wasting my own time if I'm trying to get laid. You broke that news to me already," he said playfully before his voice turned more serious. "So why would I still be here? I hate drama, but I'm here willing to be involved in yours. I don't get pleasure from it, I don't find your issues entertaining. I'm here because you need it. I want you to be okay and I want you not to feel alone, shame, or helpless. You need to have someone there for you – and that's me."

Staring into his eyes, feeling swallowed by his warmth, I was breathing harder through my nose. And whether it was my doing or his, our faces were closer, which only made it harder. Made everything about this harder. I just wanted to give in; he was so convincing and so sure he wouldn't judge me. He was right too; I hated being alone in this huge issue. Even with my dad knowing what I did, it wasn't like I could burden him with my guilt, my troubles, my thoughts.

Blake was more than willing – which sucked. It bothered me so badly to have this burden, but I couldn't tell him. My insides were shaking again, just from contemplating sharing the truth with him. I could not even fully face my fear, guilt, and the self-hate it caused. How was I suppose to manage talking about it and making him face it?

Staring into the deep care his gaze offered, so close, it was overwhelming and intimate. With a sigh, I rested a sympathetic hand against his on his lap. "It's not that easy," I whispered.

"That's okay. I just needed you to know just how... how much I mean it when I say I'm here."

God, he was so fucking sweet. This whole gesture alone was sweet, caring, and just selfless. It made my chest ache from the amount of love I felt for him. Christ, it didn't help seeing how little the distance was between our lips. "It's a good thing we can't be together. I wouldn't deserve you, you're too sweet," I scoffed, looking away and out in front of me, trying to ignore my feelings and his powerful eyes.

Though he had better willpower than me... he moved in closer towards the side of my head. "I wouldn't care," he whispered into my ear. "I wouldn't care one damn bit."

His breath brushing my ear, those words, and the desire in them sent chills all the way up to my neck. It made a visible shiver run along the surface of my skin (which I'm sure he saw). A moment later, he moved away though. Like I said... he had the willpower.

After that whisper, he stood up and off the couch, smiling down to me – like he didn't just fucking do that! "Anyway, I don't have the whole story, but I'll do anything to make sure everything will be fine," he said, turning towards the door. "Tomorrow, I shouldn't be needed at the marina or the gas station, so I can help you with remolding and cleaning the next house. Until then, try not to break your other hand," he chuckled.

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It was a longer chapter, but I hope it was worth it and you guys enjoyed it! It's interesting to see where things are going in the story. Hopefully Ruth is careful... and who knows, guess we will see what she does with the drugs :P

What do you guys think is going to happen? Thanks for continuing to read, I really do appreciate it!