The Road to You

by Melissa Toppen

  “Maybe.” She shrugs. “I guess it would depend on my situation. But right now I’m nowhere close to considering anything like that.”

  “I didn’t suspect you would be,” I offer, wishing she’d meet my gaze.

  “So, anyway. What about you? You see kids in your future.” She finally looks up, clearly trying to hide the emotion this conversation has stirred.

  “I think I’d like to have one or two,” I admit.

  Something shifts on her face. Something I can only read as disappointment, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared and I’m left wondering if maybe I’m just looking for things that aren’t there.

  “Tell me something you’ve never done that you’ve always wanted to do?” I change tactics, sensing the urgency for a lighter topic.

  “Visit Italy.” She smirks.

  Smart ass.

  “Something you’re not currently doing,” I counter. “Something off the top of your head.”

  “Skydive,” she says after thinking on it for a moment.

  “Really?” I smile.

  “Well, that’s something I used to want to do,” she adds.

  “But not anymore?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs, blowing out a breath.

  “If I took you to go skydiving right now would you do it?” I challenge.

  “I don’t know,” she repeats.

  “Why don’t you know?”

  “A year ago I would have said yes with no hesitation but now, I don’t know. I guess maybe I’m scared.”

  “What are you scared of?”

  “Death,” she blurts.

  “We’re all scared of death, Elara.”

  “I wasn’t. I was only scared of not living. I pushed everything to the limit. Was afraid of nothing. Until…” She trails off.

  “Until Kam,” I finish her sentence.

  “Until Kam.” She nods, sadness filling her face.

  “You know he wouldn’t want that, right.”

  “Wouldn’t want what?” She looks at me, her forehead drawn in confusion.

  “He wouldn’t want you to change who you are.”

  “Who I am is the reason he’s dead.”

  “Who you are is the reason he loved you,” I interject.

  “Can we please not do this?” She scoots her chair back and stands abruptly. I immediately follow, dropping a few bills on the table before exiting the small shop behind her.

  “Elara.” I snag her arm as she turns to walk away.

  “I can’t talk about him, Kane.” She whips around, tears welling behind her eyes. “I know I should. I should want to talk about him. I should want to remember him. But it hurts too much. I can’t do it.”

  “You can.” I place my hands on her shoulders to steady her. “It’s the only way you’re going to deal with it. You have to talk about it. About him. You can’t close off and pretend like the accident didn’t happen, like Kam isn’t gone.”

  “I know he’s gone,” she bites. “I’m not pretending the accident didn’t happen. I was there, remember? I won’t be able to erase that from my memory for as long as I live. So no, Kane, I’m not pretending anything. I just can’t talk about him like it’s okay because it’s not okay.”

  “Hey.” I pull her to my chest, locking my arms around her shoulders. Maybe I pushed her too hard too fast.

  It helps me to talk about Kam, to remember him as he was, but it clearly isn’t the same for Elara. At least not yet.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair, feeling her relax against me the moment I do. “We don’t have to talk about it. But, Elara, one of these days you’re going to have to and when you’re ready, I hope you know I’m here.”

  “I do,” she says against my chest, her arms wrapping around my middle. “I’m sorry too. Sometimes I just can’t deal.”

  “It’s okay,” I reassure her, dropping my cheek to the top of her head, not ready to let go just quite yet.

  “I’m sorry I ruined our evening.” She breaks away too soon for my liking and I’m forced to take a step back.

  “You didn’t ruin anything.” I reach up and brush a hair away from her cheek.

  Her body tenses at my touch but she doesn’t step away from it.

  “I kind of did,” she counters.

  “Well, maybe a little.” I grin, pulling the exact reaction from her I was hoping for.

  “Such an ass.” She fights a smile as she spins on her heel and takes off up the sidewalk.

  I wait until she’s several yards away before informing her, “You’re going the wrong way.”

  She stops, looks around, realizes she has absolutely no idea where she’s going before turning back in my direction, a slight pout on her mouth.

  “I repeat, ass,” she mutters loud enough that I can hear her before she stomps back in my direction.

  “You’re really cute when you glare at me like that.” I chuckle as she walks right past me, her shoulder bumping into me as she does.

  “Good, then I’ll be sure to do it more often,” she quips, throwing me another glare when I step up next to her, matching her stride.

  I can’t help but tilt my head back on a laugh that I simply cannot suppress. This girl. I swear to God I don’t know what I’m going to do with her. One minute she’s seconds from tears, the next she’s faking anger. I’m almost afraid to see what comes next and yet oddly excited at the same time.

  “Stop laughing at me.” She tries to fight her smile as she bumps her shoulder gently into mine.

  “I can’t help it. You’re funny,” I deadpan.

  Her lip twitches once before her own sweet laughter fills the air.

  “You are not at all what I expected, Kane Thaler.”

  “I’m hoping that’s a good thing,” I say, dropping my arm around her shoulder before tucking her into my side.

  I don’t even mean to do it; it just happens so naturally. One minute I’m walking next to her, the next I’m pulling her to me. And once she’s there, the fuck if I’m letting her go.

  “The jury is still out on that one.” She smiles up at me and I swear it takes everything in me not to lean down and press my lips against hers.

  “Is that so?” I say instead, flipping my gaze back up to watch where we’re going. Mainly because I know with complete certainty that if she keeps looking at me I will most definitely kiss her.

  “It is.” I feel her nod.

  “Anything I can do to help my odds?” I joke.

  “I’ll let you know if anything comes to mind.” I can hear the smile in her voice but I keep my eyes focused forward. “Damn, I really was going in the wrong direction,” she adds when the apartment building we’re staying at comes into view. “Here I thought maybe you were just trying to screw with me.”

  “I would never do that.” I drop my arm from her shoulder, throwing her a wink before climbing the front steps. I pull open the front door, holding it for Elara until she steps past me into the foyer of the building.

  “Did I ever tell you how much I despise stairs?” She looks up at the narrow staircase in front of us.

  “I could always carry you,” I offer with a wide smile on my face.

  “You’re so much more like him than I realized.” I can tell the moment it leaves her mouth she wants to take it back, but before I can even think to respond she quickly adds, “Race you to the top.”

  With that she takes off up the stairs so fast she’s already half way up the first set before I’ve even moved an inch.

  It takes me no time to catch her. Her five-four frame is no match for my six foot one. My legs are long enough to easily take two steps at a time and I quickly pass her with very little effort.

  “No fair,” she yells after me. “You’re legs are way longer than mine.”

  “You’re the one that challenged me, remember?” I laugh, slowing down enough that I don’t get too ahead of her. “Perhaps you should have thought it through,” I call behind me.

  “Again, ass,” she yells t
hrough the stairwell, her footsteps not coming as quickly as before.

  “You gonna make it?” I stop at the top of the sixth floor landing and look over the railing. She’s still a good floor and a half down.

  “Does your offer to carry me still stand?” She stops for a brief moment, taking a deep breath before continuing her climb up.

  “That depends, would it help my case?” I holler down to her.

  “With the way my legs are burning I would say most definitely,” she says breathlessly.

  Clearly she doesn’t actually think I will do this, because when I appear in front of her, hoisting her into my arms and cradling her to my chest, she cries out in surprise.

  “Kane. I didn’t think you were serious,” she objects as I head back up the stairs I just came down.

  “I’m pretty sure I told you, El, I won’t ever lie to you. I said I would carry you and carry you I will.” I catch her smile out of the corner of my eye but I keep my focus on the stairs, not wanting to trip with her in my arms.

  “How about now?” I ask, depositing her on her feet in front of the apartment seconds later.

  “How about now?” She looks up, eyebrows drawn together.

  “Jury still out?”

  The smile that stretches across her face damn near does me in.

  “Getting close I think.” She winks, shimmying past me into the apartment.

  And if I didn’t know it before, I sure as hell know it now. I am in some serious trouble…

  “You about ready, El?” Kane calls from the living room.

  “Be right there,” I holler back, throwing another outfit into my bag.

  We’ve been in Italy for six days now and while I was apprehensive about all of it, most of all our sleeping arrangement, it’s actually been quite nice. Kane has been nothing short of amazing and thus far my time here has been life changing.

  Every morning after Kane leaves for work, I head out on an adventure, exploring a part of this beautiful city. The days are for me, the nights I spend with Kane. He’s taken me to a new restaurant every evening since we arrived. He’s been teaching me about the different foods and even managed to get me to order something other than spaghetti.

  And now, like he promised, he’s taking me to Manarola for three days. To say I’m over the moon would be the understatement of the year. I haven’t felt this excited about anything since the accident and to know I’m still capable of feeling this kind of happiness gives me hope that maybe my future is not as bleak as I once thought.

  Of course that excitement might have quite a lot to do with the man whose eyes I meet as I walk into the living room, trying to not act like the giddy smitten teenager I feel like anytime I look at his gorgeous face.

  I mean seriously, it should be a crime to be as good looking as Kane is. He’s perfection. From his thick brown hair, to his breathtaking dark eyes, to that knee weakening smile, and body that screams plaster me on every magazine in the world, it’s all I can do to keep a clear head and not completely lose it–which I’ve nearly done more than once this week. Especially when he walked out of the bathroom two mornings ago in nothing but gym shorts, giving me my first real taste of what is hiding underneath his clothes.

  Dear lord, I couldn’t bear to look at him for more than a second for fear drool would start pooling out of my mouth. It’s not just his looks, either. Sure, he’s still serious most of the time, and intimidating as hell. But I’m also finding he’s really quite sweet, thoughtful, and does an amazing job of making me smile nearly every time I’m with him.

  Things have changed between us over the past few days too. Slowly, we’ve settled into some semblance of friendship, though I can’t say it’s like any friendship I’ve had before. Because deep down I don’t want to be his friend. I want to be something much more.

  It’s not lost on me that this was how I felt about his brother. Then again, I was able to be Kam’s friend despite my feelings. For seven years I stood by and watched as he dated other girls, never taking my chance. But for whatever reason, this thing with Kane feels different. As in I can’t imagine watching him date other women or only ever being his friend, which leaves me feeling both confused and guilty.

  Guilty that I waited so long to tell Kam how I felt when I’m already fighting back the urge to tell Kane that I’m attracted to him. Confused because if I can’t see myself just being his friend then what the hell am I doing here?

  Kane has given me no reason to believe he feels anything even similar to how I feel. Then again, maybe that’s not entirely true.

  I catch him staring at me sometimes. Not in a normal way you might look at someone that’s your friend, either. But in a way that makes my skin feel like it’s been touched by a live wire. And it’s in those moments I find it the hardest not to launch myself at him.

  How did I get here?

  How after just a week is he already under my skin so deeply that I can’t seem to shake him?

  I came here to find myself. Instead what I’m finding is that Kane Thaler is even more irresistible than his brother. And there it is… Guilt.

  “You good?” Kane brings my attention up to him and only then do I realize I’ve been standing here for several moments without saying or doing anything.

  “Yeah, sorry. Just running through my mental check list to make sure I have everything I need,” I lie.

  “Well, if you happen to forget anything, we can always stop somewhere.” He crosses the small space toward me and takes my duffel bag from my shoulder, sliding it on to his.

  See what I mean… Sweet.

  “We really should get going. I’d like to get there early to avoid traffic if at all possible.”

  “Okay.” I nod, glancing around the space before turning my attention back to him. “I think I’m ready,” I hesitate, actually going through the check list in my head this time.

  “You sure?” He chuckles.

  “Yes.” I meet his gaze and smile. “Let’s go.”

  ****

  Kane rented a car for our trip to Manarola. A medium size semi-sporty car. A Renault Captur. Something I had never heard of or seen before today.

  We’re about half way through our drive, windows down, soft music playing on the radio, when I feel Kane’s eyes on me for probably the hundredth time. I shift in my seat, keeping my eyes glued out the windshield.

  “I’m really glad you decided to come on this trip with me,” his voice low. Then out of nowhere his hand touches mine.

  I jump slightly before looking down to where he turns my palm upright, sliding his fingers in between mine, entwining them. Staring at our hands that are now joined, I make no attempt to pull mine away. Looking from our hands to Kane, I’m graced by a small grin on his face, his eyes never leaving the road.

  “Yeah…” I stutter, remembering what he said before his touch wiped everything else from my mind. “Me too.” I look back down at where are hands are, my heart doing something funny in my chest while my stomach feels like it has hollowed out into an enormous open pit.

  “Relax, babe.” He glances in my direction and gives me a lopsided grin.

  There’s that word again… Babe.

  “I am relaxed,” I counter after several moments of silence.

  “Your posture says otherwise.” He flicks his eyes to mine for the briefest moment, his smile not faltering for even a second.

  I open my mouth to argue but realize he’s right. I instantly make a point to sink back down in the seat, though I don’t feel any more at ease in doing so.

  “So what do you want to see first?” His fingers tighten around mine, pulling my gaze to his. “When we get to Manarola,” he clarifies, his eyes bouncing back and forth between me and the road.

  “I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” I admit, wanting desperately to pull my hand away so I can think clearly, yet not wanting to ever take it away at the same time.

  “You said your great grandparents lived right by the water, yeah?”

 
“Yes,” I barely manage to get out past the knot in my throat.

  My god this man does something to me that I just can’t explain. It’s like I can’t keep a single thing straight in his presence and this fact has only intensified given that he’s currently holding my hand.

  What exactly is happening here?

  That’s what I want to ask him. I want to know if he feels it too. The zing of chemistry between us, the pull of something more. I’m convinced he does, he has to, and yet I’m afraid he doesn’t. Then again, I might be more afraid that he does.

  “I’m not really positive on that, but from what I’ve gathered from pictures I believe so,” I eventually add.

  “We will have to stop by and visit.”

  “Visit what?” I question, not sure what he’s talking about.

  “Where your great grandparents lived.” He flashes me an amused smile and I swear my heart flips in my chest.

  Why does he have to be so beautiful? Why can’t this be easy? Come to Italy, reconnect with myself and my roots, and gain a good friend in the process. That’s what I wanted. A friend. Someone who understood what I’m going through. Someone I could offer some understanding too as well.

  Instead I find myself off in la la land, dreaming about Kane’s mouth and hands and every other part of him I haven’t been able to stop staring at.

  “We can’t. Someone else owns it,” I say after composing myself.

  “And?” Kane questions, his gaze fixed on the road.

  “And you can’t walk up and knock on someone’s door and expect they will let you inside their house.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says any sane person alive. Would you let someone into your house?”

  “If the reason was valid, yes I would.”

  “There’s a valid reason for letting complete strangers into your home?”

  “We’re not in America, babe.”

  Babe… God I wish he would stop saying that word. Every time he does I feel myself slip a little further, my heart beat a little faster, and my stomach knot a little tighter.

  “If I explain to them the significance of the house and that it once belonged to your grandparents, I’m certain that they will at least let us in long enough to look around. To experience the place where your great grandparents lived. Where your grandfather was born. Where your father might have been raised had they not moved to the States. This is a part of your history, Elara. It’s important.”