by Blair, E. K.
“I feel like I need to.” Her hand is tightly clenched around mine when she asks, “What did you see?”
Letting out a sigh, I reveal, “You were naked and covered in blood and dirt.” I choke around the words, and she begins to whimper as she tries to hold in her cries. “He had his hand between your legs, and you were screaming, then all of a sudden, he punched you in the side of your head and knocked you out. It all happened so fast. In a second, I pulled him off of you and beat the shit out of him, but I couldn’t hold on to him and he fled. I stayed with you—”
“While I was naked?” she asks out of embarrassment.
“I had covered you up with my shirt. But I saw your tattoo. That’s how I knew the connection.”
“But how did you not know before?”
“I thought it could be you, but I had such a hard time after seeing what I did that I just figured my head was playing with me. Trying to trick me into thinking it was you,” I tell her. “When I saw you the first time at your work, it was my initial thought. The girl from that night was so tiny, and so was the girl in the coffee shop. Max tried telling me my mind was just trying to put closure to everything.”
“Max knows?”
Nodding my head, I gently tell her, “Yeah, babe, he does. I had told him about what happened at the bar because he was head of security and needed to know, and then I told him about the girl in the coffee shop because I was really screwed up about it. I never thought I’d fall in love with you; it wasn’t like I told him behind your back, he just always knew everything. Then once I saw your tattoo and put it together, we never spoke about it again. And I swear we never have.”
“God,” she breathes out. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Babe, you have nothing to be embarrassed about,” I try telling her, but I know my words are weak in comparison to her feelings about this.
“It’s humiliating, Ryan.”
Running my hand through her hair, I say, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. No one could even come close to how genuine you are, and I swear to you, that’s all people see when they look at you, including Max.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Only my mom.”
“Why would you tell her?” she cries, mortified.
“She heard us when we were at her house, and you were upset, telling me that you blamed yourself for what happened. She thought we were fighting. I was upset after you fell asleep, and we were talking downstairs. Again, she knew about what I saw before I ever met you, and I felt like I needed someone to talk to. I probably never should have said anything to her, but my own guilt about not getting to you faster was eating away at me, and then seeing how hurt you were, thinking it was your fault . . . it killed me.”
I hold her close as she wraps her arm around my neck, clinging on to me as I continue to hold her hand.
“All I ever wanted to do was protect you, and the one moment you needed me the most, I let you down. If only I would have gone out there when I first heard the noises, but I didn’t, and I’m so sorry, baby.” I take a moment before I tell her, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you and what had happened after the ambulance took you to the hospital.”
She loosens her hold around my neck and wipes her face as she takes a deep breath.
“I know I shouldn’t ask,” I say. “But . . . what happened that night?”
“It was a mess,” she quickly responds and then takes a pause before she continues. “I didn’t even like him, and I had only gone out with him that night so that I could talk to him.” Never letting go of my hand, she tells me, “There was a party at his frat house, and he had gotten mad at me for leading him on. He had thrown me into a wall and pinned me against it. We fought, and I ran out. But he drove me, and I didn’t have my phone, so I . . .”
She trails off, and I suddenly feel bad for asking her. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I need to.”
“Why?”
She drops her head before she eventually brings it back up, telling me, “My therapist keeps telling me I should talk about it.”
I don’t say anything else. I just keep her tucked into me when she eventually starts to speak again, and I listen as she tells me how he chased her down, beat the shit out of her, and raped her. Hearing her tell me the hell he put her through is gut-wrenching. I don’t know how anyone could ever come out of something like that without an insane amount of damage. Knowing how violent he was with her makes me want to hide her away forever, but I can’t do that. So I lie here and cry for her. For everything that little shit took away from her.
“Were you going to press charges? Is that why you were talking to that detective?” I ask after a while.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I never planned on it, but then when I was packing I came across his card he had given me in the hospital. I guess I was more curious than anything,” she explains.
“After all of this, if he were still alive, do you think you would?”
“Would you think I was weak if I said no?”
“Baby, there’s nothing about you that I find weak,” I tell her. Of course I would want her to fight and press charges, but I’m not the one who was stripped of all my trust, so I understand the need to avoid it. Who’d want to go back and relive what she had to endure? She fights in her own quiet way. Most probably don’t even see it. I didn’t used to, but I do now.
I roll onto my back, and she shifts her head into the crook of my arm. “When did you start seeing a therapist?”
“A couple days after you came by to talk to me. I just . . . I was so miserable. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Kissing the top of her head, I tell her, “I’m glad you have someone you can talk to. You think it’s helping?”
“I think so. I mean, she’s helping me see things a little clearer. We’ve been focusing on my anxiety and pointing out my triggers. She wants me to put myself in situations that tend to make me panic. I’ve tried a couple of times, but it’s hard,” she says.
“It’s gonna be, but it’ll get easier, babe.”
“She wants me to stop taking my sleeping pills.”
I run my hand up her arm and around her shoulder, asking, “Are you going to?”
“I told her I wasn’t ready. She said she wouldn’t push it but that I should think about it.”
“I know you’re scared, but they’re just dreams.”
“Dreams that feel completely real. And stress always triggers all that stuff, and with everything that’s been going on . . . graduation, packing, the production . . .you. It was all too much.”
“I know. You don’t have to explain. I get it,” I tell her. “But what about New York?”
“What about it?”
Turning to look at her, I say, “You don’t have to give it up. I’ll go with you. It’s not a big deal. I was already planning on moving anyway.”
“What?” she questions, confused.
“It’s one of the main reasons why I replaced Michael with Max at the bar. I figured you’d be moving and there was no way I wasn’t going with you.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I didn’t want to stress you out. You had so much going on. I kept waiting for you to bring it up, but you never did, so I just started getting everything worked out on my end,” I tell her as she shakes her head.
“I had no idea.”
I let out a light laugh and say, “You didn’t think I’d let you leave without me, did you?”
“Honestly? I didn’t know. I didn’t bring it up because I was scared I would have to leave without you. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave you,” she admits. “But I’m going to stay here. I called Pacific Northwest Ballet. I had originally turned down their offer, but I called them when I left the airport, and the spot is still mine. I go in on Monday to sign all the papers.”
“You don’t have to do that. You can still have New York.”
“I’m no
t ready for it,” she says softly. “I thought I was, but I think I was just forcing it. To prove to myself that I could go there on my own and be okay. But I need to be here. This is my home, with you, Jase and Mark, and everything that I’m used to,” she tells me. “I want to get better, and I want to do that here where I have the support.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not saying no to New York, I’m just saying no for right now.”
I finally let go of her hand to cup her face before bringing her to my lips. She holds on to my wrists as I move my lips over hers, giving her only a couple long and slow kisses before pulling back, and saying, “I love you so much.”
She runs her hand behind my neck and whispers, “I love you too,” before our lips meet again. But before I can lose myself in her, she pulls away. “Oh my God,” she draws out.
“What’s wrong?”
“All of my stuff—everything—is already in New York. I’ve gotta call the landlord from my apartment there. I shipped everything last week.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of all that. Did you have luggage?” I ask.
“Yeah, I had already checked it,” she says with worry.
“I’ll call the airlines. Don’t stress about it. We’ll get everything shipped back,” I tell her, but I’m not letting her move back in with Kimber. I have her here with me, and I don’t want any more space between us, so I add, “But babe, when I arrange everything, I’m having it shipped here.”
She nods her head, not picking up on what I’m saying, so I clarify, “Here to my loft.” When I see her pinch her brows together, I say, “I want you here. With me.”
“Move in?”
“Yeah. Move in. I don’t want to be apart from you.”
The smile that grows on her lips is beautiful, and I can’t help myself when I kiss her.
“God, I missed that smile,” I say. “It’s been too long.”
“So that’s it?” she questions.
“That’s it,” I give her. “I want this to be your home. Here with me.”
She wraps her body around me, hugging me close when she whispers in my ear, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
After talking everything out this afternoon, Candace was drained and had a headache, so I gave her some aspirin, and she’s been upstairs sleeping for the past hour. I go ahead and make all the phone calls to arrange for her belongings to be shipped back here. Her luggage should be at the airport tomorrow morning, so at least she’ll have her clothes.
It’s amazing how quickly everything can change. One minute, I thought I’d lost her and the next, she’s back here and agreeing to move in with me. But I don’t want to waste any more time. I want to pick up where we left off, and it seems she wants the exact same thing.
When I notice the sun starting to set, I call in an order for dinner at the little Italian place down the street that Candace likes so much, figuring she could use a solid meal after the day she’s had. As I set the phone down, I hear a ringing from Candace’s purse that’s lying on the coffee table. I pull out her phone and answer it when I see that it’s Jase calling.
“Hey.”
“Ryan?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry, man. I thought I was calling Candace but accidentally dialed you,” he says.
“No, this is Candace’s phone.”
“Huh?”
“She’s here,” I tell him, and I know he’s completely thrown off when he questions, “What do you mean she’s there?”
“After you called me this morning, she showed up at my door. She didn’t get on the plane. She’s been here ever since.”
“What happened? Is she not going?”
Sitting down on the couch, I tell him, “No. She’s staying. She took the spot at PNB.”
“Is she happy?”
“She’s happy,” I say before letting him know, “She’s moving in.”
“With you?”
“Yeah.”
He takes a pause before saying, “I knew she’d make the right choice.”
Laughing, I say, “She nearly destroyed me in the process.”
He begins to laugh with me, and then asks, “Can I talk to her?”
“She has a headache and is sleeping right now.”
“Just have her give me a call later, okay?”
“No problem.”
“I’m really happy you guys worked things out. She wasn’t the same without you.”
“Thanks, man. You’ve been a really good friend to me.”
“No thanks needed. You guys have a good night and give her a kiss for me. I didn’t know what I was going to do without her.”
“Me neither. Talk to you later,” I say before we hang up.
Walking upstairs, I step into the bedroom and look at the only love I ever want to know, curled up in my sheets. She’s peaceful and quiet as she sleeps. She needs this after the emotional day she’s had. We spent hours in this bed, hashing everything out, filling in all the gaps, and settling all the questions. But it needed to happen, and finally, for the first time, everything feels whole.
Candace and I finally drag ourselves downstairs for some much needed coffee after making love all morning. I’ll never get my fill of her, and I made sure she knew that.
She’s a little needy this morning, but I like that. I’ve missed that—her need to have me close. It’s to be expected with everything going on, so I hold her hand as we walk downstairs and into the kitchen.
“All I have is milk, babe. We’ll have to stop by the store to get you your creamer and stock up on groceries.”
“When did you get this?” she questions, and when I look over to her, she’s checking out the cappuccino machine.
“My mom. She got it for my birthday.”
“Birthday?”
Grabbing the milk to pour into her coffee, I say, “Yeah.”
“When was your birthday?” she asks as I hand her the mug and head over to the couch.
“Last month. May nineteenth.”
“Oh,” she says with a twinge of sadness.
“Babe, don’t let it bother you. It’s really not a big deal.”
Taking her eyes off of her mug, she looks up at me as she rests her back against the arm of the couch and says, “It does bother me. I feel like I’ve missed so much time with you.”
“You weren’t missing much. Nothing happened. Everything was literally in slow motion the whole time.”
“I still feel bad that I wasn’t here for your birthday.”
Setting my coffee down on the end table, I take hers as well, setting it aside as I pull her over to me and fold her in my arms. “None of that matters, so just forget it, okay?”
“I can’t just forget it.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you that I was with you on my birthday?”
She pops her head up and stares at me with question. “What do you mean?”
“I saw you the night before,” I tell her. “I went to see you dance.”
“You were there?”
“Nothing would have kept me from seeing you that night,” I tell her and then kiss her forehead. “You were amazing. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”
“I didn’t think you were there. I saw your mom afterward, but I had no clue.”
“You saw my mom?”
“Yeah. I ran into her as I was leaving.”
“She never told me that,” I say, but then remember telling my mom that we weren’t going to mention Candace again. I never gave her a chance to tell me.
“I felt awful.”
“Why? What did she say?”
“All the right things, but it was hard to see her because I was missing her. She drove all that way and then I told her that I needed space. It just hurt too much,” she explains.
“I know she wasn’t expecting anything. She just really wanted to see you dance. I told her not to come, but she insisted.”
/>
“I miss her,” she says as she rests her head on my shoulder. “I feel like I should apologize or something.”
“For what?” I ask with a light chuckle. “You didn’t do anything, babe. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me, so stop thinking that you did something wrong, ‘cause you didn’t.”
She nods her head, unconvinced, but I don’t push. Instead, I offer, “Why don’t we go visit her in a couple of weeks for Fourth of July weekend?”
Her smile shows off her dimple when she says, “I’d like that.”
“I’ll give her a call later today.”
“Speaking of calls, I need to call Kimber. My car is at her parents’ house. We should probably go pick it up today.”
“I’m gonna go grab a shower, so why don’t you call her, and we can pick it up after we go to the airport to get your bags.”
“I don’t have any clothes,” she tells me. “Maybe Jase can bring me some. Crap!”
“What?”
“I was supposed to call Jase when I got to New York last night. He doesn’t know I’m here,” she panics.
“He does. I talked to him yesterday when you were napping. I just forgot to tell you.”
“You talked to him? What did he say?”
Giving her a smirk, I tell her, “He said he was glad you made the right choice.”
She pokes me in the ribs as she whines, “No he didn’t.”
“I swear, he did,” I laugh and then stand up. “Make your phone calls. I’m gonna go get ready.”
Once I’m out of the shower and dressed, Candace walks into the room and says, “Jase is on his way.”
“Did you get in touch with Kimber?”
Flopping down on the bed, she says, “Yeah. Her parents aren’t home, but she gave me the code to the garage,” in a dull voice.
Walking over to the bed, I look down at her and ask, “What’s wrong?”
“She just doesn’t get it.”
“Get what?”
Candace sits up and tells me, “She said that I was throwing everything away. She was annoyed when I told her I wasn’t gonna move back in with her. It’s just hard because she doesn’t know you. All she saw was how upset I was when we weren’t together. She knows that you kept that secret from me, but she doesn’t know how far I’ve come this year and that it was mostly because of you. She never saw how bad it was, and now all she has is this tainted idea of you.”
