Caramel | Rip Wheeler

Caramel - Chapter Twenty Seven

The house was quiet, a little too quiet. Rip shut the door behind him, setting his hat on the hanger as he looked around. "Maria?" He called, but no answer.

He began toward the bedroom, his boot heels were deafeningly loud amongst the silence that filled his home. He pushed the door open to find an empty room, shaking his head softly as he wondered where she had gone.

Then he remembered, if he couldn't find her in the house she was usually on the deck, looking at the mountains or the stars and pretending life didn't exist. So he walked toward the back doors, sliding them apart to find her sitting on the steps, a bottle of a caramel colored whiskey in her hand.

He sighed, stepping quietly in her direction, before squatting down to her level. "Hey, darling." He poked at her, smirking when she turned to look at him.

She smiled, wiping the tear stains from her face. "Hey, baby."

"Hard day?" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him to set a kiss on the side of her head.

"Hard life." She mumbled, her eyes glued to the mountain before her.

"Well it's ten in the morning." He said, reaching for the bottle of whiskey. "Let's try coffee?"

She shook her head, pulling the bottle away from his hand. "Just leave me alone."

He's heard that one before, that meant to not actually leave her alone and if he did she was going to make bad choices. "What's up, baby?"

"I hate myself."

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. "No, no." She glanced over at him, trying her best to not have a mental breakdown. "Let's refrain from using hurtful words."

She chuckled bitterly. "I really dislike myself."

He huffed, rubbing his temples. "Are you regretting marrying me?"

"No." She shook her head eagerly. "Of course not, baby."

"What's going on, Maria?" He repeated, turning to face her now.

"I'm depressed." She shrugged. "It has nothing to do with you or anybody but myself. I'm mentally fucked up and I'm stuck in this stupid mind set. I hate my life, Rip. Not my life with you, just me." He watched as tears ran down her face now. "I hate that I feel this way and I can't do anything about it. All I do is hurt you. There's something wrong with me."

"Baby." He offered a gentle smile, reaching for her hand. "I know nothing I say can help." He nodded, giving her time to begin to pay attention. "You couldn't hurt me even if you tried. Okay? Understand that." He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "If you felt like you needed to leave me to be happy, baby, it would be a pleasure to get my heart broken just to see you happy."

"I don't want that, Rip." She sobbed. "I want to be happy."

"What can I do?" He questioned. "Do you want to get help?"

"I'm helpless, unfortunately." She brought the bottle to her lips.

"Nobody is helpless, darling." He took the bottle from her, setting it behind him. "You just have to accept the help and accept that you need it."

She covered her face with her hands, before running her fingers through her hair frustratedly. "I don't need help."

"Look, Maria." He shook his head. "You've been drunk everyday since Kayce got married." She opened her mouth to argue but he stopped her. "Now hear me out." He cleared his throat. "I'm not saying Kayce has anything to do with it or that you have some secret infatuation, I promise. What I'm trying to get you to understand is you do have a problem. No matter how many times you put that shit down or promise you're off of it. The point is to never pick it up again. It's been ten years." She licked her chapped lips, her head falling to her knees. He spoke again. "Just try it?" He almost pled. "Maybe you'll like who you are sober."

She said nothing as she brought her legs into her body, embracing yourself. Rip watched her with hopeful eyes but... nothing. "Darling?"

She sniffed, dropping her head between her knees. He continued. "Are you still in love with Kayce?"

Her head shot up. "No." Her heart sank to the pits of her stomach. "No..." She shook her head, but the action came to a slow stop. "I don't know." Memories of his teenage grin and shaggy hair ran through her mind. She imagined his body pressed against hers, whispering he loved her over and over again between shallow moans and breathless kisses. She imagined him pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck and she shuddered, bile rising to her throat. "I don't know."

"Look." Rip offered an apologetic grin, coming down from his squatted position to sit crisscrossed next to her. "I don't think you are, okay?" He reached for her, unfolding her and pulling her toward him to wrap an arm around her consolingly. "I think you're in a weird place in that pretty little head of yours and you don't know what's real." She nodded, agreeing as she turned toward him and began to sob into his chest.

"I'm sorry, Rip." She apologized. "I'm so sorry."

"Baby, 'I'm sorry' is two words you'll never have to say to me." He shook his head, giving her a small squeeze. "I know you're going through a lot. But just remember when you can't make out what's real and what's not, just remember this will always be real." He hummed. "Alright?"