The Driven Series

by Bromberg, K.

  “I tried quickly to prove that I wasn’t damned to Hell even though he did those things to me. I ran through the gamut of girls in high school to prove to myself otherwise. It made me feel good—to be wanted and desired by females—because it took that fear away … but then it also became my way of coping … my mechanism. Pleasure to bury the pain.”

  I whisper it the same time he does. The line he said to me in the Florida hotel room that stuck with me, ate at me, because I wanted to understand why he felt that way. And I get it now. I get the sleeping around. The fuck ’em and chuck ’em. All of them a way to prove to himself that he was not scarred by his past. A way to place a temporary Band-Aid over the open wounds that never healed.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, my mind and heart aching for this man, when his voice interrupts the silence.

  “I don’t remember everything, but I remember that he used to come up to me from behind. That’s why …” his voice so soft it trails off, answering a question I asked the night of the charity gala.

  “Okay,” I tell him so he knows I hear him, knows I understand why he was robbed of the ability to accept such an innocent touch.

  “The superheroes,” he continues, his stark honesty stealing my breath. “Even as a kid, I had to hold on to something to try and escape the pain, the shame, the fear, so I would call to them to try and cope. To have some kind of hope to hold on to.”

  I taste the salt on my lips. I assume it’s from my own tears but I can’t be sure because I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. And we don’t move, remaining forehead to forehead, and I wonder if it’s easier for him to sit like this—eyes shut, hearts pounding, souls reaching—to get it all out. So he doesn’t have to see the despair, pain, and compassion in my eyes. But even though his eyes are closed I can still feel the chains that have bound his soul for so long begin to break free. I can feel his walls starting to crumble. I can feel hope take flight out of this place in the dark. Just him and me in a place where he can now chase his dreams without his past closing in on him.

  I angle my head down and press a kiss to his lips. I feel them tremble beneath mine, my self-assured man stripped bare and open. He finally eases his head back, our foreheads no longer touching, but now I can look into his eyes and I can see a clarity that’s never been there before. And a small place within me sighs that he just might be able to find some peace now, just might be able to lay the demons to rest.

  I smile solemnly at him as he draws in a ragged breath and reaches his hands out and urges me up from my knees and onto his lap, where he wraps his arms around me. I sit there cradled, comforted, and loved by a man capable of so much. I hope he’s finally able to see it and accept it. A man who swears he doesn’t know how to love and yet that’s exactly what he’s giving me right now—love—in the midst of being in the darkest of despairs. I press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, his stubble tickling my sensitive lips.

  The dust of a broken past settles around us as hope rises from its remnants.

  “Why tell me now?”

  He draws in a quick breath and tightens his arms around me, pressing a kiss to the top of my head and chuckles softly. “Because you’re the fucking alphabet.”

  What? My head shakes back and forth, and I lean back so I can look at him. And when I meet his eyes, when the smile that spreads on his face lights up the green in the dark around us, my heart tumbles to new depths of love for this man. “The alphabet?”

  I’m sure it’s the look on my face that has his grin widening, dimple winking, and his head shaking. “Yep, A to motherfucking Z.” A spark of his personality that he’d lost shines through fleetingly, and it warms my heart to hear that touch of amused arrogance in his voice. He chuckles again and says “Fucking Becks” before leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine without answering my question.

  He pulls back and looks at me, eyes intense. “Why now, Ry? Because of you. Because I’ve pushed and pulled and hurt you way too much … and despite all of that, you’ve fought for me—to keep me, to help me, to heal me, to race me—and for once in my life, I want someone to do that for me. And I want to be free to do that for someone else. I …” He sighs trying to find the words to match the emotion swimming in his eyes. Eyes still haunted on the fringes but so much less now than ever before, and that alone eases the ache in my soul. “I want the chance to prove I’m capable of it. That all of this …” he says with an irrelevant wave of his hand, “didn’t rob me of that. That I can be who you need and give you what you want,” his voice pleads.

  I hear the sadness from his confessions still tingeing his voice, but I can also hear hope and possibility woven in there as well. And it’s such a welcome sound that I purse my lips and press them against his.

  I can still feel the emotion shuddering through him as he slips his tongue between my parted and willing lips to deepen the kiss. I can still sense him trying to grasp this new ground he’s trying to find his footing on, but I know that he’ll find it.

  Because he’s a fighter.

  Always has been.

  Always will be.

  I GLANCE OVER TO HIM watching the light of the streetlights play over the angles of his face as I sing softly to Lifehouse’s Everything on the radio. It’s late, but time was of no importance as we sat together in the grandstands laying old wounds to rest and bringing new beginnings to the table. Sammy’s driving my car to the house but as Colton and I exit the freeway in the Range Rover, I realize we’re not going home just yet.

  Home.

  What a crazy notion. That I’m going home with Colton, because right now, after tonight, the word means so much more than just a brick and mortar building. It means comfort and healing and Colton. My ace. I sigh, my chest tightening with love.

  I look over at him again and he must feel the weight of my stare because he glances over at me with eyes still slightly red from crying. They lock on mine momentarily as he smiles softly and then shakes his head subtly, as if he’s still trying to process the events of the past few hours before looking back at the road. But I keep my eyes on him because I know deep down that’s where they’ll always land no matter where else they look.

  I’m so deep in thought I don’t even recognize our location when Colton pulls into a parking lot and puts the car in park. “There’s something I’ve gotta do. Come with me?”

  I look at him confused about what we’re doing at eleven o’clock at night in some random parking lot in the outskirts of Hollywood. Obviously it’s important because after tonight all I can think of is that he’s probably exhausted and just wants to go home. “Of course.”

  We exit the car and I look around, a little leery leaving such a nice car in this rundown, poorly lit lot, but Colton is completely unfazed. He pulls me in close to his side and leads me toward a very formidable wooden door that looks like it came straight out of the medieval times. Colton opens it and I’m immediately confronted with bright lights, music playing softly, and a strangely unique buzzing sound.

  I whip my head over to Colton, who’s watching me with a bemused curiosity. He just chuckles and shakes his head at my slack jawed reaction and widening eyes.

  I’ve never even stepped foot in one of these places before. Deep down a part of me knows why we’re here, but it doesn’t make sense.

  Colton links his fingers with mine as we walk down a narrow hallway toward a room where there are bright lights. Colton crosses the threshold ahead of me and stops momentarily until the buzzing ceases.

  “Well motherfucking cocksuck! The fucking wonder boy pays a visit,” a rumbling voice yells out, and Colton laughs before being pulled farther into the room. “Well goddamn, you’re a sight for sore eyes, Wood!”

  I watch as arms, sleeved in a variety of colors and images, wrap around Colton and bring him in for a quick hug. I see a pair of hazel eyes catch sight of me over Colton’s shoulder.

  “Oh fucking shit! I’m so sorry about all of the fucking cussing,” the voice belonging to the eyes says as he
shoves Colton backwards and steps toward me. “Dude, if you bring a fucking lady in here you need to make sure to give me warning so I can be respectable and shit!”

  Colton laughs as the man wipes his hand off on his jeans before reaching it out to shake mine. My eyes roam over the heavy set, tattoo riddled man with closely cropped hair and a long unruly beard, but what I find the most endearing is the blush staining his cheeks. It’s actually quite adorable, but I doubt he’d be amused if I said that right now.

  “So fucking sorry! Christ, I just did it again,” he shakes his head with a wheeze of a laugh and I can’t help but smile.

  “No worries,” I tell him, lifting a chin over toward Colton. “His mouth’s just as bad. I’m Rylee.”

  “Okay, well I’ll try to keep the fucking to a minimum,” he says and then blushes again. “I mean—not with you of course—well unless you wanted to because then—”

  “Don’t even think about it, Sledge,” Colton warns with a laugh as Sledge, I assume, shakes his head and just laughs that unique laugh of his again before ushering us into the tattoo parlor.

  “So, dude, really?” Sledge asks Colton.

  “Yeah.” He looks over to me and smiles. “Really.” And I’m completely lost.

  “Whatever yanks your dick man,” he says, shaking his head as he walks over to a counter and starts rifling through some papers. “Speaking about yanking dicks and shit …” He glances over at me and his face scrunches up in apology before continuing to look for something. “How’s that fine ass sister of yours that I’d love to have yank mine, among other things.”

  I expect Colton to freak out, but he just throws his head back and bellows out a laugh. His reaction makes me realize these two go way back.

  “She’d eat you alive and you know it, dude … you’re such a pussy.”

  “Fuck you!” Sledge laughs as Colton starts pulling his shirt over his head. And even with so many new sights to take in here, I can’t tear my eyes from his chiseled abdomen. I take in the four symbols—representations of his past—and wonder what he’s going to do now.

  “Yeah … quite the hard ass,” Colton teases as he ushers me to a chair and presses a chaste kiss on my lips. He looks me in the eye for a moment, as if to say trust me, before sitting down in a chair himself. “The inked up man who listens to Barbara Streisand and keeps his five pussies in the back room.” What in the hell is he talking about? “Didn’t you know, if you’re gonna pretend to be a badass you need to listen to death metal and have a man-eating pit bull instead of enough cats to rival an old spinster.” Colton is laughing, carefree even, and I love that whoever this contradiction of a man is brings this out in Colton.

  “I’m a delicate flower!” Sledge quips before yelling out, “A-ha!”

  “Flower my ass!” Colton says, shaking his head and laughing as Sledge walks over to him with a piece of paper in his hand. “That it?” Colton asks, and I straighten my posture to try and see what’s on it. He stares at it a moment, lips pursing, head subtly bobbing as he considers it. “You sure? It’ll really work?” He flicks his eyes up at Sledge, his expression reinforcing the question.

  “Like you have to fucking ask. Oops, there I go again with the fucking.” He raises his eyebrows as he glances over to me in a silent apology. “Dude, if I’m gonna stain you, I’m gonna research it to make sure.”

  “Like Google research or bottom of a bottle research?” Colton asks.

  “Get out of my fucking chair!” Sledge teases, throwing his arm toward the direction of the door before looking over at me. “You really put up with this shit on a daily basis?”

  I nod my head and laugh as Colton leans forward and stares at me, and for a second I see sadness flicker there but it goes away just as quickly as it came. “Ryles?”

  “Yeah?” I scoot to the edge of my seat, still curious what the paper has on it.

  “Time to lay the demons to rest,” he says, his eyes locked on mine, “and move on.”

  I force myself to look away from his eyes and down to the sketch of curved, interlinking lines. I know the symbol is a Celtic knot and it’s similar but different to the others, but I don’t know why it’s significant.

  I look up from the paper, my eyes beseeching Colton’s for an explanation. “New beginnings,” he says, his eyes telling me he’s ready, “…rebirth.”

  I suck in a breath, my eyes burning with tears, the significance of the symbol is so poignant I can’t find the words to speak so I just nod.

  “Okay, I get you’re all fucking lovey-dovey and shit, but I’m itching to cause you some fucking pain, Wood, so scoot your ass back,” he says, pressing Colton’s shoulders back and winking at me with a smirk. “Because you ain’t gonna have a chance to be reborn, motherfucker, if you sit and stare at her so long that you fucking die in the meantime.”

  I laugh, my love for this man I just met is already profound. Colton complies but not without a comeback. “Dude, you’re just jealous!”

  “Fuck yeah, I am. I’m sure that she can...” he stalls, eyes darting back to me and then down to where he’s busy setting up his supplies “...whip up a mean bowl of macaroni and cheese.” He chortles out that laugh again.

  “Damn straight,” Colton says, slapping him on the shoulders. “Nice and creamy.”

  I choke on my breath the same time Sledge does, both of our faces staining red with embarrassment. I give Colton a disbelieving look and shake my head while mischief glimmers in his eyes. And the sight of it—troublemaker in full effect—makes me smile even brighter.

  “Just for that I oughta give you a fucking pansy instead …” He shakes his head as the needle buzzes to life and Colton jolts at the sound. Sledge throws his head back and laughs a deep belly rumble. “Pansy ass motherfucker! Oops, there’s a heart. Oops, there’s a vagina. Oops, there’s a daisy!” Sledge teases pretending to place the needle on Colton’s body.

  I am dying with laughter, so desperately needing this humor after the heaviness of our night.

  “Oops, there’s a boot up your ass, is more like it.” Colton starts laughing but stops the minute Sledge angles the needle near his side. I’ve never seen anyone get a tattoo before and I’m quite curious. I stand and walk over to an empty chair next to Colton so I can watch.

  I don’t even look at first—can’t as I see Colton’s body tense and his breath hiss out as the needle touches him for the first time.

  “God nothing changes,” Sledge says, exasperation in his voice. “Once a puss, always a puss.” The buzzing stops and he lifts his head to look up at Colton. “Seriously, dude? If I’ve gotta worry about you shivering like a fucking chihuahua, then we’re gonna have some serious fucking issues and I’m not gonna claim this job as mine.”

  Colton just lifts a hand and flashes Sledge his middle finger before flicking his eyes over to me and then closing them as the needle starts again. This time the buzz remains steady, and after Colton relaxes some, I move around to the other side of Sledge to test if I can handle watching him draw Colton’s blood. And when I get the courage to finally look down, I’m confused.

  Sledge’s needle is working over the symbol for vengeance. He’s cut dark red lines that make me cringe at the thought of what that must feel like against Colton’s rib cage. I look up to find Colton’s eyes locked on mine as I try to figure out what’s going on.

  “Sledge figured out how to overlay the new knot on top of vengeance.”

  “Vengeance is gone,” I whisper, and for some reason this concept is so moving to me that I just stand there, lips parted, head shaking, and eyes watching Sledge reconfigure a concept that would only destroy Colton further and give him one filled with hope instead.

  “Time to lay the demons to rest.”

  I swallow over the lump in my throat at Colton’s words and reach out to hold his hand as we watch the slow transformation of one of his inked scars. One that is now a symbol of hope and healing.

  After some time and more ribbing between the two of them—
along with me falling further in love with Sledge—Colton’s tattoo has been transformed.

  “I want to see it before you bandage it up,” Colton says as Sledge slathers it with petroleum jelly. “Go pet your pussies and make sure you didn’t sneak any hearts or rainbows in there somewhere since you kept blocking my view, you fucker.” Colton stands from the chair and I notice the time it takes to steady himself from the after effects of his accident is a lot shorter now. He heads off to the back room where the mirror is.

  And I don’t know what it is—maybe the events of the night or maybe the hope weaving its way into our lives—but my decision’s made before Colton even clears the door to the back. I have to act now before I lose the courage, before my rational head catches up with my irrational heart.

  Before I chicken out.

  “Hey, Sledge,” I say as I sit down in the chair Colton’s vacated, pulling the elastic band of my exercise pants down over my hip bone, and point there. “I think it’s the perfect time to get my first tattoo. I want the same thing only a lot smaller.”

  He looks over at me, eyes dancing and startled. “Darlin’, when I said fucking, I didn’t think you’d offer, much less bring your pants down for it with Wood in the back fucking room.” He winks at me and smiles before staring into my eyes. “You trying to get me killed?”

  I laugh. “He’ll go easy. I think he has a soft spot for you, Sledge.”

  “Yeah soft spot in his head more like it.” He just licks his lips and looks down at my hip before back up to my eyes, concern and uncertainty in his. “You sure? It’s kinda permanent,” he questions with an amused raise of an eyebrow. I nod my head before I lose the courage to go through with it—to prove to Colton that I want to be there for him every step of the way on this journey.

  Sledge laughs and rubs his hands together. “I always love being the first to touch virgin skin. Makes my fucking balls tighten up and shit …” He blows out a breath. “Fucking shit, I’m sorry. Again.” He shakes his head as he starts to trace the image on my hipbone after looking up at me to make sure it’s where I want it.