Fueled

by K. Bromberg

  It all happens so quickly, but I feel as if time stops and moves in slow motion. Stands still. Colton’s eyes snapping to mine when he realizes who is at his door. When he understands that I know. His green eyes hold mine. Imploring, questioning, apologizing, all at once for the hurt and crushing devastation that is reflected in mine. He steps forward into the doorway and a strangled cry escapes my lips to stop him.

  I struggle to breathe. I try to drag in a breath, but my body is not listening. It does not comprehend my brain’s innate commands to draw in air because it is so overwhelmed. So crushed. The world spins beneath me and around me, but I can’t move. I stare at Colton, the words in my head forming but never making it past my lips. Tears burn in my throat and sting my eyes, but I fight them back. I will not give Tawny the satisfaction of seeing me cry as she smirks at me from over his shoulder.

  Time starts again. I draw in a breath and thoughts start to form. Anger starts to fire in my veins. Emptiness starts to register in my soul. Pain radiates in my heart. I shake my head in disgust at him. At her. In resigned shock. “Fuck this,” I say quietly but implacably as I turn to walk away.

  “Rylee,” Colton calls out in despair, his voice gravelly from sleep as I hear the door slam behind me. “Rylee!” he shouts at me as I all but run down the path, needing to escape from him. From her. From this. “Rylee it’s not what you―”

  “Not what I think?” I yell over my shoulder at him in disbelief. “Because when your ex answers your door this early in the morning with your shirt on, what else am I supposed to think? ” His footsteps are heavy behind me. “Don’t touch me!” I yell as he grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. I yank it from his grip, my chest heaving, my teeth clenched. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

  Albeit temporarily, anger has replaced the hurt now. It is coursing through me like a wild inferno, emanating off of me in waves. I clench my fists and squeeze my eyes shut. I will not cry. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he has torn me apart. I will not show him that giving my heart away for the second time might be the biggest regret of my life.

  When I look up, his eyes meet mine, and we stare at each other. My love for him still there. So deep. So raw.

  So forsaken.

  His eyes swim with emotion as he clenches and unclenches his jaw trying to find the right words. “Rylee,” he pleads, “let me explain. Please.” His voice breaks on the last word, and I close my eyes to block out the part of me that still wants to fix him, comfort him. And then the anger hits me again. At me for still caring for him. At him for breaking my heart. At her for…just being.

  He runs a hand through his hair and then scrubs it over the stubble on his face. The sound of its rough scratch—the one that I usually find so sexy—does nothing but drive the proverbial knife deeper into my heart. He takes a step forward, and I mirror him taking a step back. “I swear, Rylee. It’s not what you think…”

  I snort incredulously, knowing the consummate playboy will say anything—do anything―to talk his way out of this. The image of Tawny snuggled in nothing but his shirt flashes in my mind. I try to quiet the other ones that form. Of her hands on him. Of him tangled with her. I close my eyes and swallow purposefully, trying to wipe the images away. “It’s not what I think? If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck...” I imply with a shrug “...well then you know what they say.”

  “Nothing hap―”

  “Quack!” I shout at him. I know I’m being childish, but I don’t care. I’m pissed and hurting. He shakes his head at me, and I can see the desperation in his eyes. Tawny’s smug smirk fills my head, her previous taunts echo in my mind, and they fuel my fire.

  Colton’s eyes search mine as he steps toward me again, and I retreat. I see the sting of rejection glance across his face. I need my distance to think clearly. I shake my head at him, disappointment swimming in my eyes and pain drowning my heart. “Of all people, Colton…why chose her? Why turn to her? Especially after what we shared the other night…after what you showed me.” The memory of the intimacy between us as we looked in the mirror at each other is almost too unbearable to envision, but it floods into my mind. Him behind me. His hands on my body. His eyes drinking me in. His lips telling me to look at myself, to realize why he chooses me. That I’m enough for him. A sob I can’t hold back escapes and is wrenching and comes from so deep within me that I wrap my arms around my torso to try and stifle its effects.

  Colton reaches out to touch me but pauses when I glare at him, his face etched with pain, and his eyes frantic with uncertainty. He doesn’t know how to assuage the pain he’s caused. “Rylee, please,” he begs. “I can make this right again...”

  His fingertips are so close to my arm that it takes everything I have to not lean into his touch. Visually shunned from touching me, he shoves his hands in his pockets to ward off the early morning chill. Or perhaps mine.

  I know I’m hurt and I’m confused and I hate him right now, but I still love him. I can’t deny that. I can fight it, but I can’t deny it. I love him even though he won’t let me. I love him even through the hurt he’s inflicted. The floodgates I’ve been trying to hold back burst and tears spill over and down my cheeks. I stare at him through blurred vision until I’m able to find my voice again despite the despair. “You said you’d try...” It's all I can manage to say, and even then my voice breaks with each word.

  His eyes plead with mine and in them I can see the shame. For what, I can only imagine. He sighs, his shoulders sagging and his body defeated. “I am trying. I...” His words falter off as he removes his hands from his pocket and something falls out of one. The scrap of paper flickers to the ground in slow motion, the sun catching its reflective silver packaging. It takes my mind a moment to process what has landed at my feet—and not because I don’t understand, but rather because I am hoping against hope that I’m wrong. I stare at the emblazoned Trojan emblem on the torn package, synapses slow to fire.

  “No, no, no—” Colton repeats in shock.

  “You’re trying?” I shout at him, my voice rising as anger blazes. “When I meant try, Ace, I didn’t mean try to stick your dick in the next available candidate the first time you got scared!” I’m yelling now, not caring who hears. I can sense Colton’s rising panic—his uncertainty of how to have to actually deal with the fallout of his actions for once—and the notion that he’s never had to before…that no one else has ever called him on it, made him accountable, feeds my anger even further.

  “That’s not what I―I swear that’s not from last night.”

  “Quack!” I shout at him, wanting to grab him and hold him and never let him go and at the same time wanting to hit him and push him and show him how much he’s hurt me. I’m on a fucking roller coaster, and I just want to jump off. Stop the ride. Why am I still here? Why am I even fighting for something he so obviously doesn’t want? Doesn’t deserve from me?

  He runs his hands through his hair in exasperation, face pale, eyes panicked. “Rylee. Please. Let’s just take a pit stop.”

  “A fucking pit stop?” I shout at him, my voice escalating, pissed that he’s patronizing me right now. A pit stop? More like an engine rebuild. “Did you not believe in us enough?” I ask, trying to understand through the hurt. “You told me the other night that Tawny had a tenth of the sex appeal I had? Guess you chose to go slumming, huh?” I know I’m being overdramatic but my chest hurts with each breath that I take, and frankly I’m beyond caring at this point. I’m hurt—devastated—and I want him to hurt like I do. “Did you not believe enough in me that you had to run to someone else? Fuck someone else?” His silence is the only answer that I need to know the truth.

  When I finally have the courage to look up and meet his eyes, I think he sees the resignation in mine, which in turn causes panic to flicker through his. He holds my gaze, emerald to amethyst, a volume of emotions passing between us―regret the biggest of all. He reaches out to wipe a tear from my cheek, and I flinch at his touch. I
know that if he touches me now, I will dissolve into an incoherent mess. My chin trembles as I turn to go.

  “I told you I’d hurt you,” he whispers behind me.

  I stop in all two steps of my walk away from him. So much for distance, but his words infuriate me. I know if I walk away without saying this, it’ll be something I will forever regret. I whirl back around to face him. “Yeah! You did! But just because you warned me doesn’t mean that it’s okay!” I shout at him, sarcasm dripping with anger. “Suck it up, Donavan! We both have baggage. We both have issues we have to overcome. Everyone does!” I seethe. “Turning to someone else…fucking someone else, is unacceptable to me. Something I won’t tolerate.”

  Colton sucks in his breath as my words hit him like punches. I can see the torment on his face and a part of me is relieved to know that he is hurting–maybe not as much as I am–but at least I know what I thought we were wasn’t all a lie. “You can’t possibly love me, Rylee,” he says quietly resigned, his eyes on mine.

  “Well you sure tried to make sure of that, didn’t you?” I say with a wavering voice. “Did you sleep with her, Colton?” My eyes beseech his, finally asking the question I’m not sure I want answered. “Was fucking her worth losing me?”

  “Does it matter?” he snips back, emotions warring over his face as he goes on the defensive. “You’re going to think what you want to think anyway, Rylee.”

  “Don’t turn this on me, Colton!” I scream at him. “I’m not the one who fucked this up!”

  He stares at me for a few moments before he responds, his eyes accusing, and when he does, his voice is an icy barb. “Didn’t you though?”

  His words are a stinging slap to my face. Callous Colton has resurfaced. Tears re-emerge and run down my cheeks. I can’t stand here anymore and deal with my pain.

  Something behind him catches my eye, and I glance over to see that Tawny has opened the door. She is leaning against its frame, watching our exchange with amused curiosity. The sight of her there gives me the strength I need to walk away.

  “No, Colton,” I answer him sternly, “this is entirely on you.” I close my eyes and breathe deep, trying to control the tears that won’t stop. My breath hitches and my chin trembles at what I should have done the first night we met. “Goodbye.” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion and my eyes full of unshed tears.

  My heart full of unaccepted love.

  “You’re leaving me?” His question is a heart-wrenching plea that snakes in my soul and takes hold. I shake my head sadly as I look at the little boy lost inside the bad boy in front of me. Vulnerability encased in rebellion. Does he have any idea how irresistible he is right now? What a wonderful, empathetic, caring, passionate man he is? How he has so much to give someone, to contribute to a relationship, if he just conquers his demons and lets someone in?

  How can I even be thinking of that right now? How can I be worrying about how my leaving will hurt him when the heartbreaking evidence is at my feet and within my sight?

  His eyes dart frantically as panic sets in. The pain is too much to bear. Hurting him. Him hurting me. Walking away from the man I love when I never thought it was possible to feel this strongly again. Walking away from the man who’s set the bar that all others will be compared against. My chest squeezes as I try to control my emotions. I need to go. I need to walk to the car.

  Instead, I step closer to him, the drug to my addiction. His eyes widen as I reach up and run my fingers gently over his strong jaw and perfect lips. He closes his eyes at the feel of my touch and when he opens them I see devastation welling there. The sight of him coming silently undone squeezes something in my chest. I step up on my tiptoes and kiss him oh-so-softly on the lips, needing one last taste of him. One last feel of him. One last memory.

  One last fracture in my shattered heart.

  A sob escapes my mouth as I step back. I know this will be our last kiss. “Goodbye, Colton,” I repeat as I take in everything about him one last time and commit it to memory. My Ace.

  I turn on my heel and stumble down the pathway, blinded by my tears. I hear my name on his lips and push it from my head, ignoring his plea to come back, that we can fix this, as I force my feet to move to my car. Because even if we fix it this time, with Colton, there will always be a next.

  “But, Rylee, I need you…” The broken desperation in his voice stops me. Undoes me. Breaks the parts of me that aren’t yet broken. Tears into my depths and scorches me. Because for everything that Colton isn’t, there is so much that he is. And I know he needs me as much as I need him. I can hear it in his voice. Can feel it in my soul. But need isn’t enough for me anymore.

  I stare at the ground in front of me and shake my head. Not able to turn to face him because I won’t be able walk away from what I see in those eyes of his. I know myself too well, but I can’t forgive this. I squeeze my eyes shut and when I speak, I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s cold. Absent of all emotion. Guarded. “Then maybe you should have thought of that before you needed her.”

  I tell my body to leave as Colton sucks in a breath behind me. I yank the door open and throw myself into my car just in time to succumb to all of my tears and the endless hurt. And it hits me. How alone I’ve been over the past two years. How until I had to walk away from Colton, I didn’t realize that he’s the only one that’s been able to fill that void for me. Has been the only one that has made me whole again.

  I don’t know how long I sit there, emotions exploding, world imploding, and heart breaking. When I can compose myself enough to drive without crashing, I start the car. As I pull from the curb, Colton is still standing there in my rearview mirror with a wounded look on his face and regret dancing in his eyes.

  I force myself to drive away. From him. From my future. From the possibilities I thought were a reality. From everything I never wanted but now don’t know how I’m ever going to live without.

  My feet pound the pavement to the driving beat of the music. The angry lyrics help relieve some of the angst, but not all of it. I make the final turn on the street to reach my house and just wish I could keep running right on past it―past the reminders of him that blanket my house and overload my phone on a daily basis.

  But I can’t. Today is a huge day. The corporate big wigs are visiting, and I have to present the final details of the project as well as give the requisite dog- and- pony- show Teddy wants for them.

  I’ve thrown myself into preparing for this meeting. I’ve pushed aside—or tried to as best as possible—the sight of Tawny’s face as it flickers smugly through my mind. I’ve tried to use work to drown out Colton’s voice pleading with me, telling me he needs me. I’ve tried to forget the sun glittering off of the foil packet. Tears well in my eyes but I push them back. Not today. I can’t do this today.

  I jog the last couple of steps up the front porch and busy myself with my iPod so I’m able to overlook the newest bouquet of dahlias sitting on the doorstep. As I open the door, I pluck the card from the arrangement without really looking at the flowers and toss it in the dish on the foyer table already overflowing with its numerous unopened and identical counterparts.

  I sigh, walking into the kitchen and scrunching my nose at the overbearing smell of too many unwelcome flowers that are scattered randomly throughout the house. I pull out my earbuds and lean into the refrigerator to grab a water.

  “Phone?”

  Haddie’s contemptuous voice startles me. “Jesus, Had! You scared the shit out of me!”

  She eyes me with pursed lips for a moment as I chug down my water, her usually cheerful countenance has been replaced with annoyance. “What? What did I do now?”

  “Sorry if I worried about you.” Her sarcasm matches the smarmy look on her face. “You were gone a lot longer than usual. It’s irresponsible to go running without your phone.”

  “I needed to clear my head.” My response does nothing to lessen her visible irritation. “He calls and texts me constantly. I just needed to escape from
my phone…” I gesture to the ludicrous amount of flower arrangements “…from our house that smells like a damn funeral parlor.”

  “It is a little ridiculous,” she agrees, scrunching up her nose, her features softening as she looks at me.

  “Asinine is what it is,” I murmur under my breath as I sit at the kitchen table to untie my shoes. Between the one to two bouquets delivered daily, with cards that go unopened, to the numerous text messages that I delete without reading, Colton just won’t get the hint that I’m done with him. Completely. Over him.

  And regardless of how strong I try to sound when I say those words, I’m quietly falling apart at the seams. Some days are better than others, but those others—they are debilitating. I knew Colton would be hard to get over, but I just didn’t know how hard. And then to add to the fact that he just won’t let me go. I haven’t spoken to him, seen him, read his texts or cards, or listened to the voicemails that are sapping up the memory of my phone, but he remains relentless in his attempts. His persistence tells me that his guilt really must be eating at him.

  My head has accepted the finality of it; my heart hasn’t. And if I give in and read the cards or acknowledge the songs he refers to in his texts depicting how he feels, then I’m not sure how resolute my head will remain with its decision. Hearing his voice, reading his words, seeing his face—any of them will crumble the house of cards I’m trying to reconstruct around my broken heart.

  “Ry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  I look up at my dearest friend, trying to hold it together so she can’t see right through my false pretense, and bite my bottom lip to quell the tears that threaten once again. I shake my head and push it back. “Yeah. Fine. I just need to get to work.”

  I start to stand up and shuffle past her, wanting desperately to avoid the Haddie Montgomery pep talk. I’m not quick enough. Her hand reaches out and holds my arm firm. “Ry, maybe he didn’t…” she stalls when my eyes meet hers.