by K. Bromberg
I force a smile. “Yeah. I think I’m coming down with something,” I lie. Anything to avoid the questioning look and the I-told-you-so tone. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, well don’t stay too late. I think you’re the last one. I’ll tell Tim down in the lobby you’re still up here so that he can walk you to your car.”
“Thanks, Teddy.” I smile. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
My smile fades as he turns his back from me. I watch Teddy walk to the elevators and into the open car while I muster up the courage to call him again. I don’t want to come off desperate, but I am. I need to talk to him. To show him that even though I said the words, things are still the same between us. I pick up my cell phone but know he probably won’t pick up if he sees my number. I opt for the office line.
On the third ring the phone picks up “Donavan.”
My heart pounds in my chest at the sound of his voice. Keep it light, Rylee. “Ace?” I say breathlessly.
“Rylee?” His voice seems so far away as he says my name. So distant. So detached and bordering on annoyed.
“Hi,” I say timidly. “I’m glad I got ahold of you.”
“Yeah, sorry I haven’t called you back,” he apologizes, but he sounds off. He’s talking to me in the same irritated tone that he spoke to Teagan with.
I swallow the lump in my throat, needing any type of connection with him. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you picked up.”
“Yeah, I’ve just been real busy with work.”
“Feeling better then?” I ask, then cringe when there’s silence on the line― the pause that tells me he has to think of something quick to say to cover the lie.
“Yeah…just getting some last minute details done to try and push a patent through on one of our new safety devices.”
My insides twist at his disembodied tone because I can feel it. I can feel him removing himself from all we shared together. From all the emotions I thought he felt but couldn’t put words to. I try to hide the desperation in my voice as the first tear trails down my cheek. “So how’s it going?”
“Eh, so-so…look, babe...” he laughs “...I’ve gotta run.”
“Colton!” I plead. His name falls from my mouth before I can stop it.
“Yeah?”
“Look, I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I didn’t mean...” My words falter as I choke on getting the lie out.
The line is silent for a moment, and that’s the only reason I know he’s heard me. “Well that’s a slap in the face,” he says sarcastically, but I can hear the annoyance in his voice. “Which one is it, babe? You either love me or you don’t, right? It’s almost worse when you say it and then take it back. Don’t you agree?”
I think it’s the obvious derision in his voice that breaks me this time. I catch the sob before it comes out loudly. I hear him laugh with someone on the other end of the line. “Colton…” is all I can manage to say, the hurt swallowing me whole and pulling me under.
“I’ll call ya,” he says, the phone clicking off before I have a chance to say what I fear could possibly be my final goodbye. I keep the phone to my ear, my mind running through all of the other ways that conversation could have gone differently. Why did he have to be so cruel? He forewarned me. I guess I’m at fault all around in this case. First for not listening and then for opening my big mouth.
I cross my arms and lay my head down on my desk, groaning when I realize I’ve laid my head on top of the schedule his office has sent over to me. Of the events that I’ve been contracted to attend. With him. What the fuck did I do to myself? How could I have been so damn stupid agreeing to go along with this? Because it’s him, the small voice in my head reiterates. And because it’s for the boys. I pick up the schedule, crumple it up, and throw it across the room hoping for a thump at least, but the soft sound of it hitting the wall does nothing to assuage the pain in my chest.
Within moments, sobs rack my body. Fuck me. Fuck him. Fuck love. I knew this was going to happen. Bastard.
I wake Saturday morning still feeling like shit but with a renewed purpose. I get up and force myself to go for a run, telling myself it will make me feel better. It will give me a fresh outlook on things. I take the run and pound my feet into the pavement at a relentless pace to relieve some of my heartache. I arrive home, out of breath, body tired, and still feeling the ache deep in my soul. I guess I lied to myself there.
I take a shower and tell myself no more tears today and definitely no more ice cream.
I am scooping the last of the mint chocolate chip out of the carton when my cell phone rings. I glance at the unknown number, curiosity getting the best of me. “Hello?”
“Rylee?” I try to place the feminine voice on the other end of the line but can’t.
“Yes? Who is―”
“What the hell happened?” the voice demands of me in a clipped and obviously annoyed tone.
“What? Who―”
“It’s Quinlan.” A small breath squeaks past my lips in shock. “I just left Colton’s house. What the hell happened?”
“Wh-what do you mean?” I stammer because I can answer that question in so many different ways.
“God!” She sighs in frustration and impatience on the other end of the line. “Will you two get your shit together and pull your heads out of your asses? Fucking Christ. Maybe then you’d realize you two have got something real. Something that’s undeniable. It would take an idiot not to see that spark between you guys.” I remain silent on the other end of the line. The tears I told myself I couldn’t cry, leak out of the corners of my eyes. “Rylee? You there?”
“I told him I loved him,” I tell her softly, wanting to confide in her for some reason. Maybe needing some kind of validation about his response from someone that’s closest to him so I don’t keep replaying it over in my head endlessly.
“Oh shit.” She breathes in shock.
“Yeah...” I laugh anxiously “...that about sums it up in a nutshell.”
“How’d he take it?” she asks cautiously. I tell her his reaction and how he’s been since then. “Sounds like what I’d expect from him.” She sighs. “He’s such an ass!”
I remain silent at her comment, dashing away my tears with the back of my hand. “How is he?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“Moody. Grouchy. Surly as hell.” She laughs. “And from the number of his friends Jim and Jack, empty and lining his kitchen counter, I’d say he’s trying to drink himself into oblivion to either help forget his demons or so he can push down the fear he has in regards to his feelings for you.” I exhale the breath I’m holding, a part of me reveling in the fact that he’s hurting too. That he’s affected by what’s happened between us. “And because he’s missing you terribly.”
My heart wrenches at her final words. I feel like I’ve been in a world without light for the past couple of days, so it’s welcome to know that he’s drowning in darkness too. And then the part of me that acknowledges that notion doesn’t want him to hurt, feels sorry for causing all of this pain with those stupid words, and just wants to make everything right again.
My voice is thick with tears and wavers when I speak again. “I really fucked up by saying it, Quinlan.”
“No you didn’t!” she scolds. “Ugh!” She groans. “God, I love him and hate him so much sometimes! He’s never opened himself up to this possibility before, Rylee…he’s never been in this predicament. I can only guess how he’ll react.”
“Please,” I plead. “I’m at a loss for what to do. I just don’t want to screw up and push him away further.”
She is silent for a few moments as she contemplates things. “Give him a little time, Rylee,” she murmurs, “but not too much time or he might do something stupid on purpose, and risk fucking up the one good girl he’s ever truly cared about.”
“Not Tawny…” The words are out before I can stop them. I cringe, knowing I’ve just openly insulted a family friend.
“Don
’t get me started on her.” Quinlan sneers in contempt, causing a small part of me deep down to smile at the knowledge that it’s not just me who detests her. I laugh through my tears. “Hang in there, Rylee,” she says, sincerity flooding her voice. “Colton is a wonderful yet complicated man…worthy of your love, even if he is unable to accept that concept yet.” The lump in my throat prevents me from responding, so I just murmur an agreement. “He needs a lot of patience, a strong sense of loyalty, unrelenting trust, and a person to tell him when he steps out of line. All of that is going to take time for him to realize and accept…in the end though, he’s worth the wait. I just hope he knows it.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Good luck, Rylee.”
“Thank you, Quinlan. For everything.”
I hear her chuckle as she clicks off the phone.
Quinlan’s advice still rings in my ears as I lie in bed the next morning. The pain in my chest and ache in my soul is still there, but my resolve has returned. I once told Colton to fight for us. For me. Now it’s my turn. I told him he is worth the risk. That I’d take the chance. Now I need to prove it.
If Quinlan seems to think I matter to him, then I can’t give up now. I have to try.
I drive up the coastline, Lisa Loeb playing on the speakers, and my mind a whirl of thoughts―what I’m going to say and how I’m going to say it―as the clouds above slowly burn off and give way to the morning sun. I take it as a positive sign that somehow when I see Colton face-to-face, he’ll see it’s just him and me, how it was before, and that the words mean nothing. That they change nothing. That he feels the same way and that I act the same way. And that we are us. That the darkness I feel will dissipate because I’ll be back in his light once again.
I steer down Broadbeach Road and pull up to his gate, my heart pounding a frantic tattoo and my hands shaking. I ring the buzzer, but no one answers. I try again, and then again, thinking maybe he is asleep. That he can’t hear the buzzer because he is upstairs.
“Hello?” a feminine voice asks through the speaker. My heart drops into my stomach.
“It’s Rylee. I...I need to see Colton.” My voice is a tangle of nerves and unshed tears.
“Hi, dear. It’s Grace. Colton’s not here, sweetie. He hasn’t been here since yesterday afternoon. Is everything okay? Would you like to come in?”
The rush of blood into my head is all I hear. My breath hitches as I rest my head against the steering wheel. “Thanks, Grace, but no thank you. Just tell…just tell him I stopped by.”
“Rylee?” The uncertainty in her voice has me leaning out the window of the car.
“Yes?”
“It’s not my place to say it...” she clears her throat “...but be patient. Colton’s a good man.”
“I know.” My voice is barely audible, my stomach lodged in my throat. If only he would realize it.
My drive back down the coastline is not as filled with hope as my drive up it was. I tell myself that he probably went out with Beckett and was too drunk to drive home. That he went out with the crew and grabbed a hotel in downtown L.A. after partying a little too hard. That he decided it was time for another trip to Las Vegas and is on the plane home right now.
The endless scenarios run through my head but do nothing to alleviate the ripples of fear that ricochet within me. I don’t want to think of the one other place that he could be. The townhome in the Palisades. The place he goes to be with his arrangements. My heart races and thoughts fly recklessly at the notion. I try to justify that he crashed there. That he’s alone. But both Teagan’s and Tawny’s comments flicker through my mind, feeding the endless stream of doubt and unease churning within me.
My mind fills with the many warnings he’s given me. “I sabotage anything that resembles a relationship. I’m hardwired this way, Rylee. I’ll purposely do something to hurt you to prove that I can. To prove that you won’t stick around regardless of the consequences. To prove that I can control the situation.”
I don’t remember steering the car in that direction, but before I know it, I’m turning down his street from memory. Tears spill over and down my cheeks as I grip the steering wheel tightly. The need to know outweighing the agony of acknowledging what my mind fears. What my heart worries. What my conscience already knows.
I pull up to the curb, a small sigh escaping my lips in momentary relief when I see that none of Colton’s cars are there. But then I see his garage door and wonder if it’s inside. I have to know. I have to.
I push my hair out of my face and suck in a deep breath before I slide out of my car. I walk on weak knees up the pathway and into the cobblestone courtyard. My heart pounds so loudly that its thundering is all hear, all I can focus on besides telling my feet to place one foot in front of the other.
My fucking head. I groan as I roll over in the bed. Stop pounding on the fucking drums. Please. Somebody. Anybody. Fuck me.
I shove the pillow over my head, but the goddamn throbbing continues in my temples. My stomach rolls and twists, and I have to concentrate on not getting sick because my head really doesn’t want me to get up just yet.
Fucking Christ! What the fuck happened last night? Bits and pieces come back to me. Becks coming to get me to shake me out of the voodoo pussy funk. A funk I’m not really sure I want to be shaken from. Drinking. Rylee—wanting Rylee. Needing Rylee. Missing Rylee. Tawny meeting us at the bar for some signatures. A lot of fucking alcohol. Way too much fucking alcohol according to my head right now.
Pleasure to bury the pain.
I struggle to fight through the fuzz in my head to remember the rest. Snapshots of clarity amidst the haze. Coming back here. Palisades house closer than Malibu. Drinking more. Tawny not comfortable in her business suit. Getting her a shirt of mine. Standing in the kitchen looking at the fucking Tupperware container of cotton candy on the counter. Memories of the carnival making the ache burn.
“Oh fuck.” I groan as the next recollection flickers through loud and clear.
Sitting on the couch. Becks, the fucker looking no worse for the wear even though he’s gone drink for drink with me, sitting in the chair across from me. His feet propped up and his head angled back. Tawny next to me on the couch. Reaching over her to the end table to grab my beer. Her reaching up. Hands around my neck. Mouth on my lips. Too much alcohol and a chest still burning with need. Hurting so bad because I need Rylee. Only Rylee.
Pleasure to bury the pain.
Kissing her back. Getting lost in her momentarily. Trying to get rid of the constant fucking ache. To forget how to feel. All wrong. So wrong. Pushing her off. She’s not Rylee.
Looking up and meeting the disapproving eyes of Becks.
Fuuccckkk! I shove myself up from the bed and immediately cringe at the freight train that hits my head. I make it to the bathroom and brace myself on the sink for a moment, struggling to function. Images of last night keep flashing. Fuckin’ Tawny. I look up to the mirror and cringe. “You look like shit, Donavan,” I mutter to myself. Bloodshot eyes. Stubble verging on beard. Tired. And empty.
Rylee. Violet eyes begging me. Soft smile. Big heart. Fucking perfect.
I love you, Colton.
God, I miss her. Need her. Want her.
I brush my teeth. Trying to rid the taste of alcohol and misery from my mouth. I start shoving off my shirt and underwear—needing to get the feel of Tawny’s hands off of me. Her perfume off of me. Needing a shower desperately. I’m just about to flick the water on when I hear a knock at the front door. “Who the fuck?” I grumble before looking over at the clock. Still fucking early.
I look disjointedly for something to wear, trying to shake the fuzz from my head. I can’t find my fucking pants from last night. Where the fuck did I put them? Frustrated, I yank open my dresser, grab the first pair of jeans I find, and hastily shove my legs in them. I hurry down the stairs starting to button them up as I try to figure who the fuck is at my door. I glance over to see Becks passed out on the couch. Serves the
fucker right. I look up to see Tawny and her mile long legs opening the door. The sight of her—T-shirt, legs, and nothing else—does nothing to me, for me—when it used to do everything.
“Who is it, Tawn?” My voice sounds foreign as I speak. Gravelly. Unemotional because the only thing I want is Tawny gone. I want her out of my house so I don’t need a reminder of what I could have done. What I almost fucked up. Because it matters now. She matters now.
And when I step into the blinding morning light through the doorway, I swear to God my heart stumbles in my chest. There she stands. My angel. The one helping me break through my darkness by letting me hold on to her light.
My knock sounds hollow on the front door. I lay my hand on it, contemplating knocking again, just to make sure. My shoulders start to sag in relief that he’s not holed up inside with someone when the door pushes inwards beneath my fingers.
All the blood drains to my feet as the door swings open and Tawny stands before me. Her hair is tousled from sleep. Make-up is smudged under her bedroom eyes. Her long, tan legs connect to bare feet that stick out from under a T-shirt that I know is Colton’s, right down to the small hole in the left hand shoulder. The morning chill showcasing her braless breasts.
I’m sure that the look of shock on my face mirrors the one on hers, if only momentarily, for she quickly recovers, a slow, knowing, siren’s smile spreading across her face. Her eyes dance with triumph, and she licks her tongue over her top lip as I hear footsteps from inside.
“Who is it, Tawn?”
She just widens her grin as she uses her hand to push the door open further. Colton strides toward the door with nothing on but a pair of jeans; jeans his fingers are fumbling to button the fly on. His face sports more than its usual day’s worth of growth, and his hair is unwashed and messy from slumber. His eyes are bloodshot causing him to flinch at the morning sunlight as it comes in through the doorway. He looks rough and reckless and as if the alcohol from the night before has taken its toll. He looks how I feel, shitty, but no matter how much I hate him in this moment, the sight of him still causes my breath to hitch in my throat.
