Searching his gaze, I recognize the naked vulnerability that ricochets within the blue depths. “Forget I asked. We can talk about something else.” Or nothing at all.
His hands wrap around my waist to hold me firmly in place. The heat of his flesh burns through my clothes to the skin below. It’s like a tattoo that will always be there, branding me as his. Even if no one else is able to see it, I’ll know.
“It’s all right. You can ask me anything.” There’s a pause. “It might not seem like it, but I’m really trying to open up.” He shrugs. “Just be patient with me. I’m not used to discussing my feelings. Or her.”
That’s all it takes for my heart to shatter into a million broken pieces. The need to touch him pounds through me, and my hand drifts up to cup his shadowed cheek.
Without further prompting, he says, “My parents met when they were young. My father was attending college, and Candace—that’s my mother’s name—was in art school. The way dad tells it, they met at a party and fell instantly in love. A couple of weeks later, they hopped on a plane and flew to Vegas to tie the knot.”
Wow. That’s actually a super romantic story.
Before I can pummel him with questions, he continues, “For the most part, they were happy. Dad finished school and found a job working in finance. Candace rented a studio space so she could paint. Two years later, I was born. That’s when their marriage turned rocky. She resented anything that took her away from her work. Dad hired a nanny to take care of me, hoping that would help. Days would slip by, and we wouldn’t see her. It was like she’d get lost in her art and lose all track of time.” His voice trails off as his eyes take on a faraway quality.
When Colton remains silent, I ask, “What happened then?”
It takes a moment for him to blink back to the present. “When I was five, she decided it wasn’t possible to be both an artist and a mother.”
My heart clenches painfully as I realize how the rest of the story will unfold.
Any emotion filling his voice disappears even though I see hints of it in his eyes. “She packed her bags and left.”
“I’m so sorry.” My hand rises so that I can hold both cheeks in the palm of my hands. “Do you ever see her? Talk to her?”
“In the beginning, she would send a card or two a year, but then the contact tapered off.” His brow furrows. “Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I heard from her. It has to be more than a decade.” He shakes his head as if even he can’t believe it.
My chest constricts until it becomes difficult to breathe. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have one of my parents walk away. I feel terrible for poking my nose where it didn’t belong and forcing him to talk about something that has dredged up so many painful memories.
Colton’s hand rises to my face before his thumb carefully feathers over the delicate skin beneath my eye. Only when it comes away with wetness, do I realize that tears are streaming down my cheeks.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. Not only for his mother walking away but also for forcing him to share something so painful.
“Don’t be. You can’t miss what you never had.”
He swipes at my other cheek before locking his hands around the sides of my head and pulling me close until our foreheads are able to touch. Our gazes stay fastened as the fragile connection we share continues to flourish.
“I’m really glad you came home with me.”
“Me, too.” It means more than he can possibly know. More than I’m afraid to acknowledge, even privately to myself. “Thanks again for the invite.”
For a moment, the only audible sound that fills the room is our breathing.
“I’m going to kiss you, Lys.”
“Okay.”
As soon as the word is released, he tilts his head until his lips are able to slant across mine. Unlike the kiss in Bang Bang’s parking lot, this one unfolds gradually as if we have all the time in the world to explore each other. When his tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips, I immediately open, allowing him entrance. That’s all it takes for the world to fall away. And then it’s just the two of us.
The Colton I’ve unearthed this evening has managed to do the impossible. He’s ripped down the walls I carefully erected between us, one brick at a time. It’s exactly what I was afraid would happen. Even though I’m scared of being hurt again, that knowledge isn’t enough to stop me from tumbling head over heels in love with him for a second time.
Or maybe I never fell out of it to begin with.
Chapter Thirty-One
Colton
I stare at the ceiling with my arms folded behind my head as everything from earlier this evening crashes around inside my brain. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s dwelling on Candace. She’s like Beetlejuice. Say her name three times, and she magically appears inside my head, taking up residence like an unwanted squatter.
And that, on top of everything else I’m going through, is the last thing I need. The woman abandoned me, walked away without so much as a second glance. And now there’s a giant void in the place that once belonged to her. It’s one that Jenna has diligently tried to fill over the years.
Everything within me softens as I think about my stepmother. Truth be told, she’s so much more than that. The title doesn’t do her justice. She’s the mother Candace never could be—or, more to the point, wanted to be.
I’m not embarrassed to admit that I love Jenna. I appreciate everything she’s done for me over the years. She drove my ass around town before I had a license and helped with homework when I didn’t understand a concept. She wrapped her arms around me in the middle of the night when I would cry, missing Candace. Instead of badmouthing my mother, Jenna tried to explain that sometimes people weren’t able to be what we needed. And that was neither of our faults.
The few times Candace allowed me to tag along with her to the studio stick out vividly in my head. Probably because they were such a rarity. She would set me in the corner with a few toys while she became absorbed in her artwork. Hours would pass by, and I would try to be as quiet as I could. Even then, at age four, I realized my silence was the only thing that could win her over. In the end, it wasn’t enough. No matter how quiet or how good I was, she still chose to leave.
Even though Jenna and I have become close over the years, and she has done her best to make up for Candace’s lack of interest, my biological mother’s rejection is still there, eating away at me.
It’s fucked up.
Why isn’t it possible to forget about her and move on? I want to bury all of the painful memories so deep down in my subconscious that I forget she was ever part of my life.
Another thirty minutes pass as I toss and turn before finally throwing off the covers and rolling from the bed. Unable to sleep, I pace the dark room. It’s as if there is an itch deep beneath my skin that is impossible to scratch.
The one person I long to see, the only one who can make it better, is asleep in her own bed in the apartment next to mine. She’s so close and yet a million miles away. We left my parent’s house around nine o’clock and arrived back at campus around eleven. The return trip to Wesley had been made in silence. It’s as if we’d both been lost in the whirl of our own thoughts.
Once we had reached her apartment door, I’d cupped her cheeks in my hands and pressed my lips against hers before quickly stepping away. It would have been all too easy to pick Alyssa up and carry her back to my place. The need to be buried in her tight heat had throbbed almost insistently through me. If there’s anything that could help soothe the painful memories circling through my brain, it was her. Instead, I’d restrained myself, knowing that Alyssa needed me to prove I wasn’t the same guy who walked away from her sophomore year.
Jenna texted on the ride home and told me how much she and Dad enjoyed meeting Alyssa. How they hope to see her soon.
Hint, hint.
Little do they know that the decision for our future re
sts solely in Alyssa’s hands.
As I swing around, ready to pace the length of the room, my phone lights up with an incoming message. I move closer before glancing at it.
Alyssa.
You awake?
That’s all it takes for me to pounce on the slim device.
Yeah. Can’t sleep.
Me, neither.
Want to come over?
Be there in a minute.
I toss down the phone and go to the apartment door, cracking it open and peering outside. Alyssa is already in the hallway, jogging toward me.
“Hi.” A hesitant smile quirks the edges of her lips.
I return the quiet greeting before opening the door fully and stepping aside. Once she’s in the entryway, I close it and nab her fingers with my own, towing her to my room. When the lock is secured, I lean against the door. The temptation to take her into my arms is so powerful that I clench my fingers in an effort to stifle the urge. Instead, I hold back, waiting for her to make the first move.
“Why weren’t you able to sleep?” I ask.
She jerks her shoulders, restless energy vibrating off her in heavy waves. “There’s a lot going through my head at the moment.”
“Mine, too.” Even though opening up isn’t easy, I know it’s what Alyssa needs, and so I force myself to add, “Most of the time, I’m able to forget Candace was ever part of my life but tonight brought up a lot of emotions. More than I realized.” More than I’m comfortable with.
Concern flickers across her expression as she closes the distance between us, stopping a foot from where I stand. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have asked about her.”
Unable to control myself, I give in to the temptation and reach out, tugging her to me. Alyssa’s palms settle on my chest, but she doesn’t push me away. “No, I want you to ask questions. I’m trying hard to let you in, Lys. It’s not easy. I’m not used to it. I’ve kept everything buried inside for so long.” I pause for a moment as an ugly thought forces its way into my head. “For all I know, it’s too late for us.”
A puff of air escapes from between her lips. “I wouldn’t be here if I felt that way.”
The tension gathered in my muscles drains away, leaving me limp with relief. I didn’t realize how much I needed her to say that until she did. It gives me some much-needed hope where I wasn’t sure there was any. My arms band around her, drawing her closer until we’re pressed together. Her arms slip around my neck as she lays her head against my chest. The top of it fits perfectly beneath my chin.
Even though the words are scary to admit, especially out loud, I want to share them with her. “Sometimes I wonder where she is,” I whisper into the darkness that blankets us. “What she’s doing.”
Alyssa lifts her head and searches my face. “Have you ever tried to find her?”
Find her?
Hell, no.
Even the thought is enough to make my palms sweaty. I shake my head. Part of me is deathly afraid of what I’d find. In a way, it would be like opening a Pandora’s box. Once you do that, there is no shoving everything back inside.
“Is that something you’re interested in doing?” she asks, breaking into the chaotic whirl of my thoughts. “Looking for her?”
I suck my lower lip between my teeth and chew it thoughtfully.
I don’t know...am I?
I’ll admit that part of me is curious. It’s been more than sixteen years since I last saw her. And for most of that time, there has been nothing but silence. For all I know, she could be dead. I allow that notion to settle inside me before examining it more closely.
It would probably be easy to figure out. Hell, I could Google her and more than likely come away with enough information to satisfy the interest growing inside me.
Then again, maybe the best thing I can do is leave the past where it belongs.
In the past.
Why does this have to be so damn difficult?
“We could do a quick Facebook search and see if anything pops up,” Alyssa offers.
I suppose we could do that. Except the suggestion sends my belly into free fall. It’s a terrifying thought. I’m not used to feeling that kind of emotion pump through me. Everything inside screams to shut it down, so I don’t have to experience it.
“Colton?”
I blink and refocus on Alyssa’s concerned features. “Okay.”
Holy shit. Did I just say that?
I’m almost desperate to snatch the word out of the air. Instead, I remain silent, muscles coiled tight.
“Really?” Her brows rise as she carefully searches my expression as if she doesn’t quite believe me.
At the moment, I’m not sure if I believe me.
“Yeah,” I confirm with a grunt as a ball of nausea grows in the pit of my belly. Just because something turns up doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it. Best case scenario, what I find is enough to put all these unpleasant emotions scratching beneath the surface to rest once and for all. I want to move on with my life and stop allowing this woman to control my thoughts and feelings. Whether I want to admit it or not, that’s exactly what she’s done.
“You don’t have to do this,” she murmurs.
True. But I’ve come this far. Do I really want to back down now? Will I ever find the courage to do it again?
“I know.” It’s not like I want to, but part of me feels like I have to. In order to slay your dragons, don’t you have to face them head-on? And Candace is definitely a dragon that needs slaying. It’s the only way to free myself from her.
“Should we wait until tomorrow?” Alyssa asks, concern flaring in her eyes.
If I do that, I’ll probably find a reason not to go through with it. Scratch that, I’ll definitely find a reason.
Can you say—bauk, bauk, chicken?
As far as I’m concerned, it’s now or never. “Let’s just get it over with.”
Her hands slide from around my neck to my cheeks as she rises to her tiptoes before pressing her lips gently against mine. The moment I sink into the caress, she pulls back. “I’ll be right here with you, Colton. I’m not going anywhere.”
I jerk my head into a nod as she steps away. She has no idea how much comfort those words give me.
On legs that feel wooden, I walk across the room and grab my laptop from my backpack before settling on the queen-size mattress. Alyssa sits close enough for our shoulders and thighs to touch. Since her return from London, this is the first time she’s taken the initiative to be near me. Almost as if to punctuate that thought, her fingers settle on my thigh.
With a pounding heart, I fire up the computer. It takes a moment for the screen to come alive, and then I’m clicking on the internet icon. When my home screen pops up, my fingers hover over the keys before I force myself to type her full name into the search engine.
“Candace Radcliffe?”
“She never took my father’s name,” I mumble in response.
I stare at the letters until they blur in front of my eyes. My finger hovers over the Enter button. I don’t realize that air has become trapped in my lungs until they begin to burn. It’s only when little spots dance across my vision that I force it out again and stab the plastic key before I can talk myself out of it. A second later, a full page of information materializes on the screen.
My heart skips a beat when a colorful photograph pops up.
Alyssa’s fingers curl, biting into the flesh of my leg. I don’t think she’s aware of the grip she has on me. Her gaze stays fixated on the screen. But I’m grateful for it. The pain is the only thing that grounds me in the moment. Otherwise, I would float off into the atmosphere. It’s a disturbing thought. “Is that her?”
I scrutinize the picture in silence, absorbing every little detail. The blond hair that falls in soft waves around her shoulders. The delicate lines that bracket both her eyes and mouth. Even though sixteen years have slipped by, it’s strange to have this foreign photo replace the image of a younger-looking Can
dace in my mind. The one I’ve been carrying around with me since she walked out of my life.
I flinch when Alyssa clicks on the image and it takes up the entire screen.
“She’s pretty.”
There’s a faraway quality filling Alyssa’s voice. As if she’s talking to me from beneath the water. Then again, everything around me feels murky, so maybe I’m the one who has been shoved under the surface.
I focus on Candace’s profile, attempting to dissect it almost objectively.
When I was little, I remember thinking that my mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. Even wearing paint-splattered shirts and jeans with her hair tied up in a blue bandana to keep it away from her face, she was still beautiful. The handful of times I was allowed to watch her work, I remember a look of utter concentration steeling over her face. Maybe the shell of her body was there with me, but Candace was off someplace else. There was always an air of remoteness to her. As if she was nothing more than whisps of smoke that my fingers could slide through. That feeling always made me want to wrap my arms around her and hold tight. I was so frightened that she would simply vanish.
And then she did.
“It says that she owns a gallery where her work is exclusively displayed,” Alyssa murmurs.
The words are like a gunshot in the stillness of the room. When I remain silent, trapped in the past, she clicks on the blurb, pulling up another full page of information. A heaviness fills my chest as I skim over the paragraphs. A few likenesses of her paintings and the gallery are showcased. It’s the last picture that has me wheezing out an agonizing breath.
“Oh.” Alyssa shifts on the bed as her hand moves from my thigh to squeeze my fingers.
It’s one of a happy family.
Candace is seated alongside an older man. Each of them holds a child in their arms. One is a boy, and the other is a girl. Both are blond with dark eyes that resemble Candace’s. They are the spitting image of her. Heads bent together, all four beam at the camera.
The Boy Next Door Page 21
