Forever Craving You

by Nia Arthurs

“Because I’ll come to you.”

  I drop my hand from the doorknob. “I thought you couldn’t make it?”

  “Yeah, well… my schedule just opened up.”

  “I’m not forcing you to come over.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “I’ll go to you.”

  “If you take one more step, I’m going to flip out, Oliver.”

  “Oliver?” I smirk. Grab the phone with my hand. “Am I in trouble?”

  “You will be if you don’t chill. You’re injured. I’m not. We’ll talk when I get there.”

  She hangs up.

  Confused, I put the phone down.

  I’m happy she changed her mind, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something.

  Or maybe I’m just paranoid.

  Chandra’s voice over the phone sounded the same. I haven’t spent enough time around her to pick up the subtleties in her tone.

  And maybe I’m wrong about Rick too. Maybe the millionaire is man enough to take the hint and leave Chandra alone. With all that cash, he could definitely buy someone else’s company.

  All the rationalizing fails to convince me.

  By the time Chandra knocks on my door, I’m already pissed at Rick. Someone needs to teach that puny, woman-beating coward a lesson. If Chandra so much as hints that he showed up today, he’s done for.

  I open the door but, before I can ask her anything, Chandra rushes past me mumbling about needing to use the bathroom.

  I turn and watch her scurry down the hall like a frightened woodland creature, her dark hair sailing down her back.

  Bewildered, I close the front door and hobble down the hall.

  The back of my knuckles raps against the door three times.

  “Chandra, everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” A pause. “Could you bring me one of your T-shirts?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like wearing your clothes.”

  The answer is snappy. Feisty as usual.

  I grin. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

  Using my crutches, I hobble to my room and grab one of the T-shirts with my gym’s logo on the front. Returning to the bathroom, I knock to let her know I’m back.

  The door opens a crack. Chandra thrusts a dark hand out and snatches the T-shirt. A rush of wind blasts me in the face as she slams it shut before I can catch a proper glimpse of her.

  “You’re welcome,” I call.

  “Thanks.”

  I lean against the wall and wait.

  After a few minutes, she steps out. I notice that she tied the side of the T-shirt so it more securely hugs her curves. Long, sexy legs draw my eye.

  Dressed-up Chandra in fancy clothes and short skirts is stunning, but the softer, casual nothing-but-an-oversized-T-shirt Chandra is my favorite.

  Mostly because this side of her is just for me.

  “You look great.”

  She glances down. “I feel like I’m wearing a tent. Just how big are you?”

  “Maybe you’re too small.”

  She snorts. “I’ve never been accused of that before.”

  “First time for everything.”

  Her lips quirk, but she doesn’t argue.

  “Mind telling me what’s going on?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” Head down, she tries to inch past me.

  I nudge her back and pin her against the wall with my hip and my good leg. “You in a hurry?”

  “The food smells great.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” I tip her jaw up with my finger.

  She resists me. Drops her chin to her chest again.

  My suspicions surge, but I play it off with a joke. “Don’t tell me you’re shy after last night.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Chandra.”

  “What?”

  “Look at me.”

  She stiffens. For a moment, I think she’ll ignore me. Slowly, almost as if she’s second-guessing it every inch that her chin rises, Chandra looks up.

  At first, I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

  My eyes scan her beautiful face—the small forehead, queenly cheekbones, the thin nose with the upstart tip. When I scan those perfect brown lips—the mouth I sucked and savored at length last night—I notice a small wound at the corner. It’s disguised by a skillful coat of lipstick, but the injury is crackling at the edges, the blood hardening in a telltale ridge.

  My heart stops beating.

  I grab Chandra’s chin. Gently force her head up. Let the light bounce against her dark brown skin. Beneath the surface of powder she applied recently —if the residue on my thumb is any indication—I notice faint scratches at her cheek and neck.

  Some of the scratches are faint and would be indiscernible, but others are bleeding.

  Jaw hardening, I release her chin and put a hand to her side.

  She stiffens.

  I press firmly.

  She hisses in pain.

  My eyes bulge.

  Chandra got hurt.

  Anger surges through my veins.

  My breath thickens.

  “It wasn’t Rick,” she says quietly.

  I back away. Grab my crutches. Hop toward the living room. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “Ollie, listen to me.”

  “Don’t.” I whirl around. Glare at her. “Don’t defend that scumbag.”

  “It wasn’t him.”

  “Then who the hell busted your lip, Chandra? The Tooth Fairy?”

  “It’s not what you think.” She huffs. Folds her arms over her chest. “Why do I have to explain it? Why can’t you just believe me?”

  “Why do you keep standing in my way? Did he threaten you or something?”

  Her eyes narrow to dangerous slits.

  Her perfect lips remain shut.

  “When I think about Rick laying a finger on you, I—” My hands curl into fists. “My heart beats like crazy. I feel this incredible rage,” I pound my chest, “right here. If you’re trying to protect him…”

  “I’m not.”

  “Fine. Then let’s do this. You’ve got cameras down at the bakery, right?” I adjust my fingers on the crutches. “Let’s head down there and take a look at the tapes. I need to see with my own eyes that he didn’t hurt you.”

  “A woman stopped by the bakery today.”

  I freeze, mid-motion.

  “She thought I was after Rick and… we fought.”

  “You’re kidding. A girl did…?” I point to her busted lip.

  Chandra smirks. “You should see what I did to her.”

  I blink twice.

  Her shoulders slump. “Okay, in all fairness, I got pounded.”

  I clench my jaw.

  Swing on my crutches.

  Hobble to the door.

  “What are you doing?” Chandra yells at my back.

  “I’m going to Rick’s place and I’m going to bash his face in.”

  She stomps forward. “But I told you—”

  “I don’t care if he didn’t hit you. His woman made this mess. He should pay for it.”

  Chandra shuts the door. “You can’t.”

  “Try and stop me.” I reach for the knob.

  Yank it open.

  Walk into the hallway.

  “If you call the cops, I could get in trouble for hitting her too.”

  I pause. Consider her words. “Then what am I supposed to do to fix this?”

  “You can start by feeding me.” She steps back and gestures to the kitchen. “I’m starving.”

  A beat of silence passes between us.

  I can’t relent.

  I’ve been waiting for a chance to rearrange Rick’s face since last year.

  Chandra arches an eyebrow, well?

  It pains me to walk back in. The adrenaline surging through my veins demands release—preferably in the form of a punching spree.

  But Chandra’s not asking me to be her hero.

  She’s just asking me to be her
e.

  With her.

  I inhale deeply.

  Set my eyes on the woman I love.

  And let the door slip closed behind me.

  23 Chandra

  My slurping is the only sound that dares to break the silence in the kitchen. I clink my fork against my almost-empty plate, half-wishing I hadn’t stopped by.

  Ollie is sitting across from me. Tatted arms folded across his wide chest. Shoulders rigged. Eyes dark and boring into the wall. The lit candle in the middle of the table flickers against his deep scowl.

  His plate is full, untouched.

  I try not to look at him.

  Discomfort thickens my breath.

  Feelings are coursing through my body, but I can’t identify any of them.

  Nothing in this moment feels familiar.

  Why? I’m not sure.

  Maybe it’s because a man caring this much about me is so foreign it’s near unsettling.

  Or maybe I have a concussion.

  My fingers lax.

  The fork slips a little and clangs loudly against the plate.

  I jump.

  Ollie just grunts.

  This is so weird.

  Fed up with his brooding, I push my plate away. “Ollie, I can’t eat with you glaring into the distance like that.”

  “Really?” He tears his gaze away from the wall and studies my plate in a nonchalant sweep. His eyes return to the distance. “You seem to be doing okay so far.”

  I grit my teeth.

  So damn annoying.

  I have nothing else to say. His food really is good.

  Wonders never cease.

  I pull the plate back to me.

  While I eat, I raise my free hand and let my finger trace the band-aid on my neck. My nails rasp against the soft fabric and slide across the adhesive tape.

  I remember mending my wounds after one of Rick’s temper tantrums. I hadn’t been as gentle with myself as Ollie had been with me tonight, ironically, with his big scowl in place.

  It’s not like I don’t understand why he’s pissed. Or even why he’s so quiet and dissatisfied now.

  I know staying with me tonight is a sacrifice.

  I know he’d prefer to be spewing obscenities and dropping punches all over Rick’s face.

  But he stayed.

  He chose me.

  Have I mentioned how weird this is?

  I take a sip of my soda. Savor the taste. Enjoy the burn of it going down my throat.

  Earlier, Ollie had seemed almost apologetic when he couldn’t offer me wine. I’d assured him I was okay, but it did make me think about why he didn’t drink.

  Which led to thinking about his confession last night.

  He ran into someone’s car while driving drunk.

  Did he hurt someone?

  Was it more than one person?

  Did he… kill them?

  I hush my thoughts. I’d had an opportunity to hear the full story from Ollie himself and I rejected it.

  Besides, it’s not like he can change the past.

  We all make mistakes.

  We all evolve.

  Hopefully for the better.

  I finish my food and sigh. “Thanks.”

  Ollie’s eyes flicker to me. The scowl fades, replaced with a self-satisfied smirk. “Best you’ve ever had?”

  “It’s pasta. The way you were going on I thought it would be a five-course meal or something.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Figured you would.” I wipe my fingers on a napkin. “How’d you cook with a sprained ankle?”

  “Lots of hopping.”

  “It was worth the effort.”

  “Glad you think so.”

  “Who taught you?”

  “To cook? Rachel Ray.”

  “Not your mom?”

  “Hell no. It was a sad day when she got caught in the kitchen.”

  I chuckle. “I don’t even know her but, somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

  “Oh, she’ll agree with me. Teale and I learned to fend for ourselves pretty early.” He nods my way. “What about you?”

  I blink. “What about me?”

  “You never talk about your mom.”

  “Because I don’t have good things to say.”

  “That bad?” He arches an eyebrow.

  “I wasn’t neglected or anything.” I stare at the pattern of red sauce left in my plate. “But she was harsh.”

  “How?”

  “Verbally.” I grit my teeth, feeling that familiar burning in my skin when I think of the horrible things she said. “But, to be fair, it wasn’t all bad. She taught me to use what I had to get ahead.”

  “You mean your intelligence?”

  “My appearance.”

  He blows out a breath. “That’s considered a ‘good’ lesson?”

  “In this world, yeah. It kept my eyes open. Everyone is shallow. Everyone is selfish. I don’t expect any man to be faithful, kind or honest. It’s not how they’re built.”

  “Then why bother dating?”

  “Because, if you’ve got the knowledge, dating becomes an opportunity.”

  “To what?”

  “Get something back.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Relationships are transactions. Marriage. Cohabitation. Friends with benefits. Lots of women have sex in exchange for affection. They’re happy for a few minutes of attention. They clean, cook and pander to their man for nothing. Then he does something stupid—as he always does. And they leave the relationship with empty hands and broken, bitter hearts. That’s never been me. Mom taught me to handle myself so when a relationship ends, I get something tangible out of it. More than that, I walk away with my heart intact.”

  “Wow.”

  “You disagree?”

  “I don’t want to start a fight.”

  “I’m open to hearing your opinion.”

  Ollie leans back. Drapes his muscled arm across the back of the chair. “First off, I think the world is too big to color every person with the same brush. I believe there are decent people out there.”

  “Like you?” I tease.

  “Me?” He rubs his chin. Seems to think deeply about it. “I don’t know if I deserve that title yet.”

  “In my experience, even half-decent men are one in a million. All the guys in my life have proven Mom’s theory.”

  His eyes soften. “You’ve been hurt a lot.”

  It’s not a question.

  It’s an observation.

  I shrug.

  Play with my now-empty glass.

  This conversation has veered into a path that makes me feel vulnerable.

  “Not emotionally.” I think of Rick. “And even then, I make sure I get something tangible out of it, so it doesn’t matter how I’m treated.”

  “Do you really believe that? Do you really believe someone has the right to treat you badly if they’re giving something in exchange?”

  A heavy ball lands in my gut.

  The answer to that is yes… right?

  It has to be.

  I don’t want to question years of training.

  Not when Mom’s man-bashing is so familiar.

  But Ollie… he’s different.

  He’s a giant risk that I want to take.

  A man I want to believe.

  To trust.

  So badly.

  Can I?

  “You should know… that I have no intentions of being unkind or unfaithful to you. That’s not how I was raised. It’s not who I want to be.” His eyes hold mine. “And that’s not the kind of behavior you should expect.”

  “If I don’t expect it, I’ll fall in love. Lose my common sense. Make stupid decisions. Then the man gets what he wants without giving me anything in return.” I stare him down. Dare him to change my mind. “That’s the game. It’s rigged against us.”

  “And me?” He points to his chest. “I can’t give you anything tangible. What kind of game do yo
u think I’m playing?”

  My gaze slips to the table. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “You know, this isn’t easy for me either,” he says. Brings his hands to the table. Folds them. “I’ve never fallen so hard for anyone.”

  I look up, surprised by his honesty.

  Ollie continues. “Even if you don’t choose me, I hope you know that you deserve to be loved. Properly. You should demand it.”

  My heart stirs.

  I glance away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.

  “Mom insisted that men—”

  “I know what she said. Your mother made you strong. And that strength is one of the things that drew me to you, but she’s wrong. You don’t have to put up with idiots just because you want something from them. You deserve respect. There’s no price tag for that.”

  “You think the world’s that easy? I would have gotten nowhere if I hadn’t made those choices.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Ollie stands.

  His chair scrapes the floor loudly.

  With his lips in a thin line, he reaches over and grabs my plate. “Let me get that for you.”

  “You’re mad.”

  “No, Chandra. I’m not.” He sighs. “I’m just… processing. Okay?”

  I narrow my eyes. Pull the dish away. “You cooked. I’ll clean.”

  “Not gonna pass up a deal like that.” His smile is forced, strained.

  I help him clear the table, fighting through the heavy tension between us.

  It taints the air. Turns every molecule hard and heavy so my movements feel like I’m pushing through a giant tub of molasses.

  It’s clear we’ve just had a polite clash of minds.

  No matter what he says, I can tell Ollie’s upset.

  Has exposing who I am finally scared him away?

  24 Ollie

  I head to the bathroom.

  I’m pissed off again.

  Not at Chandra.

  Never at Chandra.

  I’m just trying to understand. Trying to make it make sense.

  My head goes around and around her words. Every scenario they conjure. Every hurt she’s been through, all for what? Some trade-off that no man would put up with if it killed him?

  I want to punch all the guys who took advantage of her. Want to tear them limb from limb for using her. For hurting her. For devaluing her.

  Because she let them.

  Because she was taught to do so.

  But I can’t.

  So I cup my hands beneath the faucet instead. Wash my face. Glare at my reflection in the mirror.