by Bromberg, K.
A fix.
A necessity.
Something you can’t fucking live without.
Rylee.
Dots connected. Bread crumbs scattered and gone so I can’t find my way back again.
The question is, do I want to?
Shit, I’ve got Becks chewing my ear about it and now my old man starting in. Fuck yes, the thought has crossed my mind. But shit I just realized I’m capable of loving someone, let’s not shoot the gun without loading it first.
Ruin a good thing by fucking it up with something that’s so bad for so many.
And things are good between us. Like fucking stellar. We’ve never talked marriage. Never even brought the word up. I told her I wanted to see what life hands us and she was cool with that. Didn’t say first comes marriage and shit.
So why all a sudden is the idea mulling around in my head when it’s a finish line I swore I was never going to officially cross.
Fuck me running. C’mon, Donavan. Speak the fuck up. Assert yourself. Say hell no instead of wondering what it would feel like to have her name be Rylee Donavan.
“Well, I don’t hear you saying no, now do I?” He glances my way, raises his eyebrows, and then leans back to put his feet up on the coffee table.
Ah fuck, he’s getting comfortable. I know what this means.
Can’t we just back the hell up here? I prefer the guessing game. I can fill in another answer we can get stuck on. Anything but this because it’s causing me to think of things I shouldn’t be thinking.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut momentarily as I try to wish the conversation away. And when I do, all I see is that goddamn vision of Rylee in a white dress that Becks’s comments at the pool party caused me to think of. And shit, that vision comes back with a vengeance. Veils and rings and shit I shouldn’t be thinking of. Shit that’s getting way too comfortable as a visitor in my thoughts lately.
I shake my head. Need to clear this nonsense. Rid it of the road this man is never going to race down. So why do I see the metaphorical finish line at the end of the track all of a sudden?
My heart pounds momentarily until I push away the thoughts his words are creating. What the fuck is going on here? Why does my dad have me thinking of scavenger hunts and marriage proposals? Sweet Jesus.
“You’re not pulling any punches today, are you?”
“I don’t believe I threw one,” he says, completely unaffected.
Is he fucking kidding me? Must be nice to sit there so calm and collected when he’s doling out sucker punches to make a damn point.
I slump down in the chair and rest my head against the back of it, eyes looking up at the pool’s reflection on the ceiling. I focus on it as he allows me the silence I need to swish the thoughts around like mouthwash. A necessary evil that burns before it leaves you cleansed.
Marriage.
The word lingers. There’s something about it that I can’t quite put my finger on. First causing panic, then banging around like a ping pong ball before feeling like that fucking grain of sand in my swim trunks. The one you feel at first, irritating with every movement—your mind thinking of how you need to strip your suit off so you can wash it out—but then as minutes pass to hours, you don’t feel it anymore.
It’s still there, in that spot right between your nuts and your thigh, and you’re kind of okay with it.
And it’s all because of her.
Fucking Rylee. I shake my head, one thought more than all others front and center. With temerity and defiance, obstinance and patience, she chipped away at every hard edge of me until there was nothing left but the truths I feared. The bent and broken. The ones buried so goddamn deep I knew they’d push her away.
And yet when all was said and done, when the poison in my soul was lying on the table so she could see how fucking dark it was, she looked me in the eyes and told me I was brave, loved the broken in me. I gave her my darkest and her response was to give me her light. Her love.
I blow out another sigh and scrub my hand over my face, words forming and then dying before I can speak.
“C’mon, Dad, me? Marry someone?” I spit the words out—words that used to be a given fact—so why in the fuck do they feel like lies when they come from my mouth while I’m looking at her?
“I call bullshit. Nice try though.”
And there’s the knock-out punch.
I stare at him, waiting for him to look at me, wanting the fight to prove he’s wrong. To prove that nothing’s changed. I can be with Rylee but that’s enough for me. No rings, no strings.
But that half-ass smirk is the only reaction he’ll give me to the buttons of mine he’s pushing with expertise. One by fucking one.
So why doesn’t that pitching feeling in my stomach come when I think of it all of a sudden? I have so many fucking excuses why I’ll never get married and yet even with the last push of my button, not a single one comes to mind.
The only thing that does cross my mind is the woman sitting feet away, well within perfect reach.
“Life only hands you so many chances, Son. You seem to have used quite a few this year already. I don’t think you should take many more for granted.” He turns his head now and locks eyes with mine. The man that’s sat beside me most in my life, held my hand to help me conquer my biggest fears, called my superheroes with me, is telling me there’s one left I have yet to face.
That there’s one item left on my scavenger hunt that will give me an even bigger reward than I ever thought I deserved or was imaginable.
Something happens.
Fuck if I can explain it other than that dead calm right before the green flag waves. When your body is amped up on adrenaline, mind is blanking sound out, everything is happening at a lightning-fast speed, but you sit there like time is in slow motion. Calm. Resolute.
At peace.
I force a swallow down my throat, past my heart lodged there, because motherfucker … this broken man who was once held together with Scotch tape is now rock solid, and it’s all because of Rylee.
She may be my kryptonite but fuck if I’m the superhero worthy of her.
His words echo in my head. Pushing me. Questioning me. Making me want things I never expected to want or deserve. Ever. I look down at the label, my fingers playing idly with it as ideas form, possibilities arise.
“How did you know Mom was the one?” I don’t give him a yes or no answer that my thoughts just might be veering in the direction his questions ask me about. I keep my head down, needing to get used to this idea myself.
Let the grain of sand irritating my nuts become a bit more familiar first.
I can feel his eyes on me, know he wants me to look up at him, but I can’t. Fucking sand isn’t all that comfortable just yet.
“How did I know?” He chuckles and the tone of his voice has a corner of my mouth pulling up into a smile. “Your mother walked into the cafeteria on the lot one day. She was an extra and I was an assistant director and she intimidated the hell out of me. She was gorgeous and commanded attention. And then she looked up and smiled at me and I knew. Just like that.” He pauses for a beat until I raise my eyes to meet his.
“How did I know? Because I let her in, let her see the good, bad, and ugly about me. I gave your mother the power to destroy me when I fell in love with her, and she didn’t. She was my prize at the end of my scavenger hunt. Without her I wouldn’t have this,” he says, motioning to my sister and then me. He glances out to my mom and smiles softly before looking back at me. “In racing terms, she was my checkered flag, Son.”
… I gave her the power to destroy me …
His words stagger me. Open me. Urge me. Seal a fate I never had control of until now.
He has no idea I call Rylee my checkered flag—no fucking clue—so I’m knocked back a pit stop second, pulse pounding, mind thinking of possibilities that were never mine to think.
I’m so focused on my thoughts and the bottle of beer in my hand, I jump when he cu
ffs me on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, Colton. You’ll make the right decision when or if you want to.” He rises from the chair and stands there looking outside for a moment. “You’re a good man. She’d be lucky to have you, just like your mom and I have been.”
He starts to walk away, his unending confidence in me still staggering after all this time, after all the shit I’ve put him through.
Even at my darkest.
“Dad.” I don’t know why I stop him when the conversation itself has made me uncomfortable, but I do.
He stops but doesn’t turn around, his back to me.
Words tumble. Thoughts scramble. But for some reason the ones that never stuck before are the only ones that do now.
“I love you.” The words are out without thought, my hands shaking, the little boy in me hoping he hears them.
I immediately hear the hitch of his breath as his whole body freezes. He slowly hangs his head forward, his shoulders shuddering momentarily. He raises his head and nods a couple of times. “And that is my unexpected reward for my scavenger hunt.” His voice is thick with emotion. “I love you too, Son.” He says it so softly before waiting a beat and walking into the kitchen area.
I exhale the breath I was holding, thankful he didn’t make a big deal and embarrass me when he heard the words it’s taken me a lifetime to say. Grateful we’re so close that he knows what I needed.
I shake my head. Shit, that was intense. All of it. Revelations and confessions I never expected to make all of a sudden fall like rain around me.
Fuckin’ A.
I look up and Rylee’s eyes lock with mine. The smile comes so naturally to her lips that my body—head and heart—react immediately to her.
And I know.
Just like that.
Something I’ve spent a lifetime fighting is all of a sudden knocked out by this defiant as fuck woman who owns the heart she showed me could beat again.
Fuck me. I just keep knocking ’em down one right after the other. Might as well tackle this bad boy while I’m on a roll.
My mind starts churning, ideas forming. The scavenger hunt of my life continues. I smile back at her as I stand and just stare.
My future.
My salvation.
The woman I want to marry.
Fuck. That grain of sand just became comfortable.
I guess the plus side is if marriage is sand, at least I know my dick is going to be covered in it.
“YOU CAN STOP DRIVING ME to work you know.”
“I’m perfectly aware of that but I’m kind of partial to the view I get when you walk towards the house.” Curves. Attitude. One helluva package that’s now my whole world.
Rylee flashes that smile of hers—pure innocence—but I know the fucking truth behind it. Know the defiant vixen that owns me hook, line, and huge ass sinker. And fuck how I’d love to pull her back into the Range Rover and take her back to our bed—or any convenient location—and have my way with her again.
I can’t get enough of her.
Sliding a glance at the back seat, I grin as my mind contemplates the possibilities.
“Dream on, Donavan.” She laughs the words and rolls her eyes.
I can think of better ways to make her eyes roll back. That back seat’s looking better and better by the second.
She starts to close the door and then stops before looking toward The House where I’m sure at least four pair of eyes are on us before turning those violet eyes back to me. Angling her head to the side, she studies me in silence and now I’m fucking worried that she knows.
But she can’t. It’s not possible.
Then again falling in love wasn’t possible either and look at me now.
“What?” I ask as unaffected as possible despite my thumb beating against the steering wheel. Thank fuck I have sunglasses on or else she’d probably see my eyes widen in fear that’s she’s caught on.
“I’m okay, Colton. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. Zander’s dad is gone, I’ve recovered from . . . everything. Nothing’s going to hurt me.” The sincerity in her voice plays me like a fucking violin, pulling on the strings I thought that had been broken and irreparable.
Her words make me feel and that in itself is crazy as fuck.
“I know. I like driving you. I like coming in to see the boys when I can…and I love kissing you goodbye.”
“Hm. I do especially like that last part.” She steps onto the running board and leans into the cab toward me. Our lips meet, tongues touch, and fuck if she’s not the sweetest addiction a man can have.
Only this man, though.
And I plan on making that notion a step further today.
We break apart, her taste still on my tongue. “Baby, there’s no doubt about that. Have a great shift. Tell the boys I’ll come in when I pick you up tomorrow and they better be ready for me to kick their butts on the Xbox, game of their choice.”
“I’ve been warned of the impending overflow of testosterone,” she groans.
“You like my overflow of testosterone.” I lift my eyebrows, the sound of her laugh turning me one.
Fuck. I’ve got it bad. Her damn voodoo pussy calling to me on every level: eyes, dick, heart . . . soul.
“Have fun in San Clemente.”
My heart stops at her statement. “What?” I cough the word out.
“I heard you on the phone with Becks. Something about going there today.”
“Yeah. Yes. Going to lunch with one of the Penzoil reps.”
Real smooth, Donavan. Sweet Jesus, why don’t you just tell her what you’re doing already by overreacting?
“Cool. Have fun.” She shuts the door and then looks in the window.
“I love you.”
The emotion in her eyes is like an arrow to my heart. Shit, I’m pathetic, thinking cupid and shit. But damn if the words—the ones that used to choke me, make me ill - don’t come to my tongue like they can’t wait to be said.
“I love you too.” She gives me one last smile. The kind that makes my balls and heart constrict. The one that tells me she’s mine.
Once the door shuts behind her, I pull away from the curb.
Lunch with the Penzoil reps, my ass.
I’m going to do something that’s so not normal for me I’m at a loss.
I’m far from traditional. Way fucking far from it . . .
But this time it matters that I try to be.
This one time I’m going to do something right from the start.
I’m going to ask Rylee’s dad for her hand in marriage.
I SIT BACK AND WATCH Zander and his counselor work together, and my heart surges at seeing him so actively engaged. He’s talking so much now and beginning to heal. I allow the pride I feel to swell and the tears to blur my vision because he’s doing it.
He’s actually doing it.
I walk from his room where they’re having their session and out toward the kitchen, listening to the music in Shane’s room and the chatter of the rest of the boys building a Lego city out on the backyard patio. Dane’s emptying the last of the silverware from the dishwasher when I walk into the kitchen and plop down on a stool with an exhausted sigh.
“I agree!” he says, closing a drawer and sitting down beside me. “So,” he says when I don’t say anything. “How’s it going with the panty melting Adonis?”
I roll my eyes. “You just wish he was a boxer-brief melting Adonis.” I snort.
“Hell to the yeah I do, but I’ve given up hope that I can turn him to the better side. Only a blind man would miss the way he looks at you.”
“Oh, Dane.” I sigh, a smile spreading on my lips at just the thought of Colton and how great things have been over the past few weeks. At the comforting rhythm we’ve settled ourselves into without even speaking about it. Things just feel natural. Like they were meant to be. No more drama, no more lack of communication, and no more hiding secrets. “Things are great. Couldn’t be more perfect.”
And when
I say it, I really believe it. I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop like before. I’m not expecting anything anymore because if being with Colton has taught me anything, it’s that our love isn’t patient, nor is it kind, it’s just uniquely ours.
“So living together hasn’t been a horrible disaster?”
“No,” I say with a softness as I think of how it’s been quite the opposite. “It’s been pretty incredible actually.”
“C’mon, the man has to have something that’s horrific about him,” he teases.
“Nah, he’s pretty damn perfect,” I reply, loving the chance to say perfect again when it comes to Colton and me.
“I don’t believe it,” he says, smacking a fist to the counter. “He’s got to pick his nose or snore horribly or fart like a rhino.”
“Nope!” Laughter rocks through me and he tries incredibly hard to not crack a smile but his resolve is short lived.
“You have to be lying, Ry, because no man can be that fucking perfect.” He shrugs. “Well, unless of course, it’s me.”
“Well, of course,” I say, laughing and shaking my head. “Let’s see …” I smirk, thinking of something to satisfy him. “He did refuse to buy me a box of tampons on the way home from work the other day.”
The look on his face is priceless, lips lax and eyes wide. “The prick!” he spits out in mock disgust before shaking his head. “Shit, he just went up twenty points in my book. Sweetie, you can’t ask an alpha-Adonis like him to buy your girly shit. That’s the equivalent of asking him to hand over his balls on a platter.”
The water in my mouth almost comes out my nose I’m laughing so hard. “Dane!”
“Well it’s true.” He shrugs. “I’m glad to see they’re still firmly attached.”
“Yeah.” I snort. “Just ’cause you want them.”
“Well,” he draws out, “we would make a cute couple, and fuck if I don’t like balls firmly attached to the people I date.”
And my next sip of water isn’t as lucky as my last one. I spit it out as laughter forces a spray causing us to laugh even harder. It takes a few minutes for us to settle down because each time one of us looks at the other, we start laughing again.
