by S M Broad
I wander around town, window shopping, and get a coffee to avoid going back to my room, but nothing works. My brain is in overdrive, one situation after the next running rampant. I should tell Latham…I shouldn’t tell him. I should just leave; pack my things and go. I find a bench to sit on, shoving the heels of my hands into my eyes, and groan. I wish my dad was here; I need him to straighten me out.
I check my watch and see three hours has passed already since I took Boss back to the shop. I’m so zoned out; I don’t even remember the walk back to the hotel. I change in a daze, and before I know it, I’m back at the shop, climbing the stairs to Latham’s apartment. I knock and hear Boss bark as I wait. The door swings open to reveal Latham dressed in blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and bare feet. He smiles sweetly, and I smile back. At least I think I do.
I follow him to the kitchen and accept the glass of wine he holds out, sipping it. We make casual conversation as we eat the fantastic shrimp Alfredo he made, but I’m not really paying attention.
You’re horrible.
“Oh my God, shut up!” My eyes widen when I notice my own voice. I peek at Latham, who’s sitting next to me, staring with his wine glass frozen in mid-air. I close my eyes and want to hide. I cannot believe I just said that out loud. I try to smile at him and make an awkward turtle shape with my hands to play it off, but rub my hot face when he sets his glass down and leans forward, waiting for my explanation.
“Not you. I was talking to my…self.” I sound like such an idiot.
Get a grip!
I force a smile. “Can I use your bathroom?”
I get up; ready to bolt out the front door, when he points behind him. I stand in the bathroom for several minutes that really feel like hours, trying to think of a plan. I pat my cheeks with a wet washcloth and decide it’s time to face him. I find him sitting on the couch and meet him there, sitting down next to him. I turn to start talking but he beats me to it.
“I want to tell you something.”
Chapter Eighteen
“You know about my dad and Boone adopting me, and even my mom, but that’s all I’ve really told you.” He shifts so our knees are touching, taking my hand in his, before continuing. “I was engaged before. I met Jolie when we were juniors in high school and we spent every minute together. We were inseparable, and I loved it. She was my girl, the one I wanted to spend my life with, but we were still too young to get married.”
He sighs and itches his eyebrow with his thumb.
Jolie. The woman he was on the phone with that one day. I swallow a lump in my throat.
“What happened?” I ask, knowing things clearly didn’t work out, or he wouldn’t be sitting here with me right now.
“Senior year passed and we both got into the same college. We had a plan to go together. I proposed at graduation, gave her my mom's ring, but a week before we left, she said she met a guy at orientation and was leaving me for him. She went to college, and I stayed here to help Boone. I later found out she'd stolen a few pieces of my mom's jewelry and pawned them, including the engagement ring, to buy drugs. I haven’t seen her since, and I never got the jewelry back.” He shakes his head in disbelief, wetting his lips to continue the story.
“A few weeks ago, she tried to get in contact with me. I had no desire to ever speak to her again, but she kept calling, so one day, I answered, and she asked me for money. For what, I have no idea, but I told her to never call me again.”
He grimaces, and my heart breaks for him. How could anyone ever leave this amazing, kind-hearted man for someone else; not to mention, steal from him?
“That part of my life is over. I want to move on to new adventures…better things.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I scoot back to rest my head on the couch and look over at him; his intense eyes focus on my face.
“So you’ll be comfortable enough to tell me things about you.”
“I am comfortable with you.”
“But you won’t tell me important things. Like what’s really bothering you.”
“Trust me; you don’t want to get inside my head.” I laugh harshly, and his face hardens.
“I do. You’re the first woman I’ve wanted in a very long time.” He grips my hand tighter.
“I doubt that,” I scoff, and look away.
“Wanted for more than a meaningless hook up. There’s something about you that I can’t shake, Aayla. You’re special. I want to know everything about you.” He takes my chin between his fingers and brings my face back to look at his.
“I’m nothing great.” I swallow the emotion I feel at his admission. I want to tell him I feel the same, but he’ll never be able to see past what I’ve done. This was a mistake; I should have never gotten involved with him.
“You are. You’re amazing. But something, deep down inside yourself, is keeping you from seeing it. Let me help you.”
He inches closer, moving in for a kiss and I can’t stop myself from meeting him there. I feel like I’m being pulled by a magnet; the sparks I feel when he kisses me rival everything I’ve ever had with any other guy. I want him to help me, to see the real me. I want him to want everything I am, but can I tell him my darkest secret? My deepest flaw? Will he run from the demons? Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Before our lips can touch, I jump up from the couch and start to pace. I open and close my mouth three or four times like a gasping fish, but the words won’t come out. I knot my fingers in my hair and try to swallow the panic rising up my throat.
“I killed someone,” I blurt out, covering my mouth with a hand. His eyes nearly pop out of his head as he finds his own feet and holds up a hand, so I stop worrying a hole in his floor. “I mean…I mean…it was self-defense. My boyfriend attacked me, almost...raped me.” I choke out the words, trying not to throw up.
"I-I had no choice. I didn’t want to die.” I sob into my hands as the chains around my soul break free. I breathe deep, but jump when a loud thud echoes through the apartment. I look up through my tears to see Latham’s hand in his drywall, his shoulders heaving, like he’s about to explode. He turns, anger radiating in his once gentle green eyes, and I can’t speak, as the fear comes back and pins me down.
I step backward, tripping over a rug, and land painfully on my tailbone, skittering away as fast as I can crawl. I get to my feet and run out the door, only trying to run faster as Latham’s deep, booming voice thunders through the walls, calling after me. I stumble on the stairs, smacking my knee on the metal, but pick myself back up, running the whole way.
I don’t stop until I’m at the hotel, in my room, with all the locks in place. I make sure the curtains are closed and hide on the floor beside my bed, pulling the comforter and wrapping myself in it. I sob quietly, rocking back and forth to soothe myself, but it doesn’t work. A loud knocking on my door makes me stifle a loud cry into the blanket. I have to be quiet, so he doesn’t find me.
He can’t find me here; I’m safe.
“Aayla. Open the door. Let me in, baby!” Latham calls, but all I hear is Brant’s angry voice screaming at me. I cover my ears and bury my face in my shaking and aching knees. I don’t know how long I stay in this position—the knocking stopped hours ago—but I don’t stop shaking. Eventually the tears run dry and I just sit there, numb.
How could anyone ever love someone as disgusting as you? Brant’s voice taunts me. I shake my head to clear the thought and wipe the snot from my nose. I lay down on the floor, curled into a ball, and stare at the wall until daylight peeks through a small gap in the curtains. I get up to go the bathroom, feed Poppy, and curl back up in the blanket on the floor.
My phone vibrates again, as it has been all night and morning, so I grab it. Forty-nine text messages, twenty missed calls, and eight voicemails, from both Latham and Leila. I don’t have the energy or care to answer them, so I toss the phone across the room and cover my head, blocking out the sunshine. The next thing I know, someone’s knocking on my door, and
it’s dark outside again.
“Aayla. It’s Abby. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Her sweet, friendly voice tempts me to get up, but I don’t. I roll over to relieve my aching hip and wait for her to leave. A couple minutes later, her footsteps retreat, and I exhale.
I spend the next week in my room, hiding from everyone, eating what little I have, and barely living. I haven't cleaned the small cut on my knee, there's blood caked to my ripped jeans, but I don't care.
When I can’t stand my own smell anymore, I shower and decide I need a drink. Or twelve. I get dressed, call a cab, and find myself at Sweetwater. I walk in to see it’s karaoke night again, and decide to sing myself a nice little swan song. I order a drink, chugging half of it before I even make it to the DJ booth.
Half an hour later, I’m five drinks in and can’t feel my face. The DJ calls my name, and I wobble up on stage and prepare to sing. The music starts to play, and I smile, not even needing to read the words as I soothe myself with “Dark Side” by Kelly Clarkson. I hit the chorus and drive all my emotions into singing, belting out the words about having darkness inside and being worth something until it’s over, and I feel better.
I draw out the last chord and the crowd cheers as I step down and make my way to the bar for drink number six. I’m halted in place when a hand wraps around my wrist. I swing around to tell the asshole where he can shove it when I’m met with a pair of intense eyes filled with emotion, connected to the man I ran away from and have been ignoring.
“Aayla.”
Chapter Nineteen
I try to tug my arm away, but he doesn’t let go and I start to panic.
“Let me go,” I whimper, scared of what he might do to me. I yank my wrist again and find it free, so I walk as fast as I can to the door, bursting out into the cool, crisp night. I inhale a breath and fumble in my purse for my phone when my head begins to swim. I stumble backward into the wall of the bar, relaxing…until that wall starts moving. I turn my head and see I’m leaning against Latham’s chest, and I stand up, tripping over my own feet in the process.
“Please don’t run from me.” His voice is sad, and it makes me halt my steps. I slowly turn around to look at Latham. His eyes are filled with regret and I’m caught off guard.
“I didn’t mean to scare you that night. I was so angry, but not at you. Angry that something so goddamn awful could happen to someone as incredible as you.” He puts his arms out, then stuffs his hands in his pockets when he sees me recoil. “I felt so angry because of what you make me feel, Aayla. All I want to do is protect you.” He takes a step toward me, testing me, but I can’t move. Am I really scared of him? I already know the answer.
“Well? Can you love me? Even now that you know what I’ve done?” I slur. To be honest? I’m drunk off my ass and don’t know what the hell I’m saying, but I guess that doesn’t matter to Latham because he wraps his arms around me, caging me in, making me feel safe and warm.
“I can. I do.” He kisses the top of my head.
Wait, what’d he just say? He loves me? I jerk back to look at him, to ask if I heard him right, when the night sky and his face start to blur together. I twist away and fall to my knees, just in time to puke all over the curb. Latham grabs my sweaty, damp hair and holds it back while I throw up everything that’s in my stomach.
When I’m empty and feel better, I reach back and grip his arm for support. He helps me stand and folds me back into his arms, just as the bar door opens and Kohen comes out. They talk, but all I hear is “Wah Wah Wah,” like the teacher from Charlie Brown. I start to slump over with exhaustion, but Latham slips his arm under my legs and picks me up, like a groom carrying his bride. He puts me into a car, closes the door, and climbs in the opposite side next to me. He scoots over to me, putting an arm around me, and I rest my throbbing head against his shoulder.
The next thing I know, he’s carrying me up some stairs and quieting a barking dog. I feel myself sinking into one hell of a comfortable bed, so I try to kick my shoes off and fail. I grunt with frustration and it makes Latham chuckle. I look up and see him standing at my feet, untying my Chucks.
“Lathammms. You’re sooooo handsome.” I smile at him and wiggle my toes when they’re free of socks. Latham leaves the room and comes back with a glass of juice and two Advil.
“Here baby, you need to take these,” he says as I sit up. I take the medicine and drink a big gulp of the cold, delicious liquid. I lie back down and fold my hands under my head, nestling down into the pillow as Latham bustles around the room.
A couple minutes later, he joins me on the other side of the bed. He rolls to his side and covers us up, then kisses my forehead and mimics the way I’m laying, a small smile playing on his gorgeous lips. My heavy eyes flutter closed, and his worried green eyes are the last thing I see before the alcohol drags me into unconsciousness.
Chapter Twenty
My eyes pop open to the bright, yellow sun shining through the window, and I rub the sleep from my eyes as I sit up, having a momentary panic attack when I don’t recognize my surroundings. My head is pounding but somehow, I remember everything about last night. The bar, singing, drinking way too much. Latham, showing up like some sort of white knight, and…he told you he loved you.
I groan into my hands and immediately regret it when my temples throb in response. I swing my legs off the bed and head into the bathroom. A couple minutes later, I open the door and hear music floating from somewhere, so I follow my ears. As I near the kitchen, I hear a familiar, deep singing along to words of lost dreams and stars leading to love, and stop to listen.
I peek around the corner to see Latham standing by the stove, flipping some pancakes, with nothing but a pair of blue basketball shorts hanging off his narrow hips. My throat dries, and I try my best not to stare at the taut lines of his muscular back. A low laugh makes me look up from his toned ass, and I know I’ve been caught. My cheeks heat as he rounds the counter to greet me with a cup of coffee. It smells wonderful and I take a huge gulp, burning my mouth in the process. I wince at the sting but don’t say anything. He cups my cheek and kisses my forehead.
“Hi,” I rasp out, then clear my throat.
“Good morning.”
He smiles as he takes my free hand to lead me to a seat at the breakfast bar. He goes back to the stove and turns off the burner, flopping two pancakes, some bacon, and a scoop of scrambled eggs onto a plate and sliding it to me. I slather the cakes in syrup and put a whole piece of bacon in my mouth, humming my approval at the greasy goodness.
“Best cure for a hangover, yeah?” Latham forks a bite of eggs into his mouth as he watches me. I have a mouth full, so I can only nod, but I swallow and start to talk.
“Thank you. For last night.”
“Not a problem.” He waves me off and continues to eat.
“I heard you. Singing, I mean.”
“Was I awful?” He laughs, and I make a face.
“No, you were amazing. What was it?”
“’Bless the Broken Road’ by Rascal Flatts.”
“It was beautiful.”
“Makes me think of you.”
He looks up at me and I can’t speak. I don’t know if it’s possible to internally swoon, but I’m pretty sure I just did. Half the time, I want to run away from him, and the other half, I want to climb him like a tree.
“You make me feel…everything.” I blink at my realization.
“That’s good, right?” he asks.
“It scares me.”
“Everyone is scared of something, Aayla. The question is, do you trust me enough to let me protect you?”
I have to stop and take a breath, but I know the answer without hesitation.
“Yes.”
His light footsteps make me inhale, but when he draws me up from the bar stool by my arm, I exhale and melt into his embrace. I decide I have to ask him if he really meant what he said last night. I take a shaky breath and look up at him.
&n
bsp; “I heard what you said last night. I think maybe you thought I wouldn’t remember, but I do.” I gulp and wait for him to say something.
“I meant it. You don’t have a dark side, and I’ll help you see that. But until then, I can love you. I do love you.”
“You love me?”
He stares at me silently, eyes shining, and I see he really means it. This man loves me. The force of those three words almost knocks me over; if he didn’t have hold of me right now, I’d collapse into a heap of emotion. The words of the song playing in the background only make me feel more, and he laughs quietly.
“Talk about a perfect song for the moment. ‘Unstoppable’ by Rascal Flatts.” He runs his fingers through my hair and holds the back of my neck.
Latham’s breath tickles my lips as he pulls me in for a deep kiss. A jolt zips through me, through my whole body, making my toes tingle. His hands skate down my body to my thighs, and he picks me up and walks us to the couch. He turns and drops down with me straddling him, never breaking the kiss. I run my fingers over his stubbled cheeks up to his hair and grip it tight, smiling against his groan. Before it can get too far, I pull back and drop my forehead to his.
“I’m sorry. I can’t yet.” I feel horrible, but I want to make absolutely certain of my choice before I give him the last piece of me.
“It’s okay.” He pats my ass and I flop to the side. I think for a second, then bite my lip and slip off the couch. His eyes widen when I push his knees open and slide my hand under the waistband of his shorts. I suck in a sharp breath as I feel his hot, hard length. No underwear. Good God.
“You don’t have to do this.” He pants through his words, but I can see the way I affect him.
“I want to.” I work him up and down, and his head drops back as a long, low growl rumbles from his chest. I lean up and shyly brush my lips against his. He grabs my face and kisses me harder, melting me to the core as his tongue sweeps into my mouth. I tentatively wrap my fingers around his length again and feel the breath rush from his lungs. The kiss becomes hotter, deeper. I test the feel of him in my hand and he shudders at my shy touch. I move away from his perfect lips to nibble at his scruffy jaw. I must hit a sweet spot because when I run my lips just below his ear, he lets out another groan. I kiss, nibble, and suck my way down his neck. I’ve never wanted to feel someone’s skin under my fingers as badly as I want to touch and feel every part of him. I pick up where I left off at his collarbone, teasing with my tongue, and slide my hands down his chest, feeling all the hard muscles rippling beneath my fingers. I blaze a trail of kisses, following the path of my hands as I slowly work my way lower toward the goal. I lock my eyes with his as I grab the waistband of his shorts and drag them down his legs.
