by W Winters
I’ll tell her everything. She’ll understand. Some friendships come and go but some, like the one I have with Bethany, are meant to be forever friendships. I want so badly to make it up to Bethany and explain. Just like I want to do with Seth.
She’ll understand.
Failure and regret are kneading together in the pit of my stomach. I’ve made so many mistakes. Countless times I’ve prayed and wished that I could just go back so I could do things differently. If only I could have known…
I miss you too and whenever you want, I’m there. I type out my response and hope she can feel just how much I miss her too.
Tonight? Bethany’s answer is immediate and my teeth bite into my bottom lip as I suck in a deep breath.
Dammit. I can’t tonight.
Tomorrow then? she asks.
Tomorrow. I respond immediately and then quickly add, I am all yours tomorrow.
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until she replies, Can’t wait and I finally exhale.
I can make things better. I can make them right again. Closing my eyes again, I see Cami’s face. Not everything can be made right.
With another exhale, I try to shake off the nerves that curl and coil around my insides. Preparing to toss my keys in my bag, the jingle of them is all I can hear other than my wonky heart when I look up and see Seth standing there.
My heart tumbles over itself at the sight of him. I’ve only seen him in a suit once before. For his father’s funeral. Back then, the suit looked like a hand-me-down. He could have afforded whatever suit he wanted, but he chose a loose black one, with a black tie that was never tight around his throat. The knot hung loose and the second the casket was lowered to the ground, he ripped it off, followed by his jacket. It was snowing that day, but he couldn’t have cared less. He never did like suits.
It seems that time has changed all that. The expensive cloth is cut perfectly to fit Seth’s broad shoulders. The black is pristine, the cufflinks a detail I’d never envisioned on him. He lifts his arm just slightly, glancing down at his wrist and the shine of a silver watch, or maybe platinum, reflects back at me.
His clothes are all wrong, all different from what I know about the boy I fell in love with. But his eyes, they’re the same. His stubble and hard jaw, they’re what I remember. His cheekbones seem more defined with how trim he keeps his facial hair and the lines around his eyes are faint, but they tell tales of an older man, not one in his twenties. The look he’s giving me though, with his lips slightly parted, his tongue peeking out just for a moment to wet his bottom lip… it’s reminiscent of before, but just like his clothes, it’s worn differently.
Skip, trip, thump. He doesn’t stop staring as I take him in. Like he’s waiting for something. My heart responds but I don’t. I’m as still as can be in my seat, feeling the heat the car has stopped providing even without it being on anymore. It engulfs me as Seth’s stare penetrates through everything.
He doesn’t stand there for long, his large hands clenched into fists at his sides. They unclench and his right smooths down the black pressed suit pants he’s wearing. Irritation grows in his expression, but I’m in no rush to move.
I hate how he looks at me, but I love that he’s looking at me at all.
I reach out to the passenger seat without breaking Seth’s gaze before he can open the door himself. He’s hiding from me. Behind those blue eyes, I see nothing anymore. Maybe a hint of lust and a wall of hate, but not him. I don’t see him anymore and it fucking hurts. It’s a jagged rip to my heart.
Before I step out, I reach behind me for my purse; inside it is the notebook. Only the first one though. I didn’t bring them all.
As I stand toe to toe with him, swinging the thin black strap of my blush satchel over my shoulder and feeling the gust of wind send a chill down my spine, I close the car door without looking back. The thudding click of it shutting is all I can hear. Even the woods that surround us are silent.
It’s hard to believe Seth’s right in front of me. The wave of heat from his hard body towering over me is addictive. He’s so close that his scent fills my lungs and it brings memory after memory as I stand breathless in front of him. I could touch him; I know I could.
He could touch me if he wanted to as well. Neither of us moves though.
“I told you not to make me come for you.” His deep voice is a low baritone, a threat not so veiled laying within the syllables.
What was left of the light from the sun is waning and the moon doesn’t provide a damn thing tonight. The shadows come quicker than they have any other night. My God, does the darkness make Seth look even more tempting. Fear is ever present, the unknowing and lack of control driving my anxiety to pump my unbalanced heart harder.
I pay it all no mind. Seth is here in front of me.
“Did you hear me?” he asks, although it’s not a question. It’s more a statement of his discontent.
“I’m sure that’s not what you meant in that note, Seth,” I finally speak, my voice more even than I dreamed it would be. How it comes out so calm and collected, I have no idea.
Goosebumps line my arms as another gust of wind pushes at my back, gathering my hair and causing it to tumble over my shoulders. I cross my arms as my nipples pebble.
“I’m here,” I tell him. As if stating the obvious was needed.
The anger and edge of threat are absent, and the heat in Seth’s eyes roars when he glances down my body and then back to my own wandering gaze.
Time passes, too much of it, before I break the silence and break our caught stares to say, “I didn’t make you come far, did I?”
Seth
She’s here. Laura’s in my grasp. And she’s completely unaffected. I can’t fucking take it. It’s a black hole that whirls around me. Nothingness, yet I’m falling. Hard and fast.
This gut-wrenching concoction of desire and anger, betrayal and longing… it’s too much. I can’t focus on any one aspect of this moment. Control feels like a concept I can’t grasp as the blood rushing in my ears drowns out everything else.
Closing my eyes, I inhale long and deep. She is the woman I used to love. When I was someone else. Nothing more. I try to convince myself of that truth.
Her words linger, confirming the statement.
I didn’t make you come far, did I?
Her comment pisses me off more and more with every step I take toward the house. The anger laces with desire. Her smart mouth has always gotten me hard.
I gently place my splayed hand on her back, to lead her into my house, hiding my eagerness.
Inside. I need to get her inside.
I can barely feel her, but I don’t miss how her eyes close at my touch. All it takes is a gentle push and Laura walks fast enough so that I barely have contact with her.
The soft satin of her red dress caresses my fingertips. I know she’s cold in the thin material. She chose this dress, tight around her ass and low cut, for a reason. Everything she does is for a reason.
Every step closer to the door, I gather more and more composure. I remember who I am today and not what we had before.
The past needs to stay where it is. Those ghosts are long gone. Carter’s assessment follows me, hardens me… it warns me to be careful.
As Laura passes the threshold, I notice her long hair, once naturally dark but now lightened, falling over one shoulder. She peeks over her shoulder but not at me though; instead she looks back to her car. Maybe second-guessing everything, maybe wanting to run. I wonder if she can feel the difference inside of me. I feel it every damn day. I’m highly aware that I’m not the same man she remembers from the past. How could I be? That night changed everything about me.
When she chose to run, so did something inside of me. And it never came back.
The clack of the front door closing is followed by the lock clicking into place. Laura’s body shudders at the sound, and I watch closely as her plump lips, colored the same dark red as her dress, part as she sucks in a bre
ath. She may not want to admit I’ve gotten to her, but I damn well know I have.
She can pretend to be the confident seductress when she looks in the mirror. But I see underneath it all.
The mix of dark woods and grays, all the masculine clean lines of my home is at complete odds with Laura. She stands out, unable to hide in the neutrals of the open floor plan. She aims to move to the sleek ashen davenport sofa in the living room. Even picking up her pace, turning the air between us businesslike, she takes a few steps forward, only for me to catch her elbow and move her forward, toward the office.
Her quick glance and questioning gaze are gone as quickly as they came. I couldn’t give two shits where we do this, but she won’t decide it.
She decided to run from me. To steal from me. She doesn’t get to decide anything else.
Never fucking again. She doesn’t have a choice.
I’ve had countless days to plan what I’d say and do. Years ago, back in California. And years here, knowing she was close enough to see with only minutes of driving. Even as I walk her through the hall and open the carved walnut office door, ushering her inside, the plan is changing.
Some days it’s a debt owed and I want her to pay me back, however I choose.
Some moments the hate for her leaving me at my worst is so strong, that I don’t want a damn thing to do with her. I want her to know how close I am, and to know I don’t care enough to seek her out.
Smelling her sweet scent, and listening to the steady beat of her heels clicking against the wood, part of me wants to charm her, to beg for her forgiveness and offer her the world. I could give her that. Everything is different now. That part comes with something else. It starts as an inkling of sorrow, but it’s quick to spread, like oil slicking across the water. It’s thin, but covers every inch in blackness. I want to beg her to love me again. I want her to see how wrecked I was. How I feel like nothing without her. I am nothing anymore, but why would she want me? Why the hell would she ever come back?
She makes me weak.
“Your home is lovely,” Laura comments politely with her slender back to me as I shut the office door. Both of her hands grip the strap of her purse, giving away the nerves she’s hiding. “The inside isn’t like the outside… it’s so modern and open.”
I’m different; I know I am, but so is she. We’re nothing like we used to be. I assess her as she appraises my office. Taking in the rows of books, organized by date of publication. I collect the rare ones because I like the way they smell and look, but I haven’t read them. I don’t intend to either.
Her footsteps are gentler in this room and the angular edges of her dress seem to soften as I watch her move from one end of my small office to the other. Her footsteps are muted although it’s hardwood beneath her heels. She’s walking more carefully, with more hesitation.
I love that. The façade fades as the seconds pass.
She’s still the same girl I know, even if she wants to appear otherwise.
Her hair is curled, meticulously so when she still sat in her car. But the wind has seen to ruffle her blond tresses. I like her even more with her hair slightly messy. She should aim for that next time, a “just recently fucked” look.
I want to ask her why she did it, why she dyed her hair. It’s gorgeous on her; she has the tan in her skin to pull it off. I love the memory of her from before more though. She was perfect before.
Her nails are painted a darker shade of red than the short dress that hugs her curves. Even her makeup is flawless. It’s obvious this look—this sex kitten appeal, is deliberate.
I would like to pretend she did it for me. But two weeks ago, she looked similar. Perfectly put together and dressed with an edge of a vixen. The thought hits me as she glances up at me: this is who she is now.
Is it a lie? Is she still the woman I fell for?
Laura turns the moment my eyes read hers, preventing me from imagining running the tip of my finger along her skin. From the crook of her neck, all the way down her back. I could see myself doing it again and again until she begged me to unzip her dress. “Did you decorate it yourself?” Again, she’s polite.
I fucking hate niceties.
“I hired someone,” I say and my answer comes out flat as my eyes gauge her expression. Her knuckles are white from her tight grip, but her smile is forced. The longer the seconds draw out, the tighter her grip gets.
Maybe she’s realizing what I am. Maybe she’s come to the conclusion that she doesn’t trust the man I’ve become. I wouldn’t blame her.
I take my time, slipping off my jacket and folding it neatly before placing it over the arm of an amber leather executive chair in the corner of my office. The cufflinks are next to go, sitting them on the end of the antique bookshelf to the left of my desk. I focus on them, avoiding Laura’s prying eyes although I can feel them on me. Every step I take circles her as I move closer to where she is until I finally look up at her, feet away, but I feel miles apart with the way she looks at me.
“Are you scared of me?” I ask her and take a step forward. She doesn’t move from where she is in front of my desk. “Maybe of what I may tell you?” I take another step forward, blocking the light from the floor lamp in the far corner and causing shadows to darken her face. “Or maybe what I may do to you?”
“If you wanted to hurt me, you would have already,” she answers me with such certainty, although it’s practically whispered.
She doesn’t say anything else; she doesn’t give a hint of what’s she’s thinking or feeling. She doesn’t apologize. She doesn’t ask me for anything. The tension thickens as she waits for a response from me.
How long would she have lived without me and been perfectly fucking fine? All the while, I’ve died inside.
“You stole from a criminal,” I practically hiss. “So many others would have killed you simply to set an example.”
“You didn’t tell them,” she responds without letting a second pass. I had so much left to say, so much to make her feel the anxiousness I feel. It vanishes when her gaze softens with agony. “You didn’t tell them I took the money. Your crew never knew.” The sound of her swallowing mixes with the desperation in her voice. My gaze falls to her slender neck and then drifts down to the dip below her throat. She must have difficulty breathing now, because her lips part just to inhale and she leaves them that way. Her chest rises and falls and finally she takes a half step back.
“Derrick?” I ask her and she nods slowly, bringing my attention back to her face. Her expression gives nothing away, even if her posture gives away everything. “What else?”
“What else what?” she questions, again evenly.
“Tell me everything Derrick told you.”
“We haven’t spoken in a long time,” she says then breaks my gaze as the corners of her lips pull downward. Looking behind her, she rests against the edge of the desk, setting her purse beside her. Her hands tremble slightly until she clasps them together, hiding her emotions as she pretends to relax in front of me.
What a lie she’s become. Or is it only for me? Sucking in a breath, I rip my gaze away from her and wait for her response. “Tell me.”
“The last time I talked to him was a few years ago, when you first moved here.”
“So you’ve known—” I start to say, and it comes out like an accusation.
“That you’ve been here?” she says as she cuts me off and I only nod. “I knew when you started working with the Cross brothers because of the whispers. I called Derrick and he confirmed it.”
“What did he say?” I shouldn’t feel this heat in my blood. This apprehension that she may not like what Derrick told her. I’m not here to soothe her or comfort her though. That’s not what this is about.
I will never let her in like I did before. Never again. I learned my lesson. She made sure of that.
“He only said you heard about the Cross brothers and how quickly they were taking over… I asked him if you came for me.” Her voice hitches
for the first time and she has to swallow thickly before continuing. I watch pain flash across her expression and she doesn’t try to conceal it. “He said you didn’t.”
Tap, tap. My pointer finger rests on the desk as I lean my thigh against the side of it opposite from her. Tap, tap. I wonder if that hurt her. Tap, tap. I watch her face as she waits for me to say something, but I don’t.
“I came up with a plan when I heard you were here,” she confesses.
“A plan?”
“I had information I thought you’d want.” I don’t respond to her comment. I merely stare in her doe eyes, watching the way the gentle gold flecks among the blue brighten with emotions in their depths.
“Like a deal? You wanted to make a deal with me?” Anger roils inside of me, overwhelming my focus. A deal to get me to leave her alone.
“Yes,” she whispers this time and her fear isn’t something she can hide, judging by how she inches away from me.
“You thought I came to hurt you?” I question her.
“At first.”
I ignore my immediate reaction to hearing her admit that. “I have a deal too. I’ve thought of a lot of them over the past few years.”
“What’s your deal?” she asks and lifts her chin slightly, her bright blue eyes boring into mine. Back to business maybe. I’m not sure what’s going on in that pretty little head of hers.
“You do everything I say.”
Her eyes search mine until she blinks rapidly and looks past me, shaking her head. “That’s not a deal.”
My words echoing in my head sound more and more inviting. “Yes, it is.”
“What do I get in return?” She licks her lips quickly, leaning forward as if she’s scrambling to hold on to something before adding, “Deals have two parties.”
“You get to live,” I offer her in all seriousness. I don’t care who she’s become. Laura’s mine. I will get everything I want from her. I need it.
“I’m already living.”
