“Why are you in your underwear?” he asks curiously.
“Oh, we were swimming.” I look at the floor, shaking like crazy. “Give me a minute. Let me get dressed.”
I quickly walk to the bathroom with Brent following on my heels.
“Ruby…” he murmurs.
As I cross the threshold, I grab a towel from the rack, wrapping it around my body. Turning to face him, my heart melts as I look into his eyes. They carry no anger, but rather, they burn with some form of passion.
“I, uh…” He joins me in the bathroom and closes the door behind him.
“Brent? I need to change,” I whisper, eyeing his hand on the doorknob.
My eyes follow his hand as it reaches toward my face. When his fingers make contact with my skin, every emotion I have felt in the last week bubbles to my throat. I close my eyes, trying to keep myself under control, but one tear betrays me as it escapes. His thumb strokes away the hot, wet rogue while his fingers move to the back of my neck, tangling through my damp dark hair.
I dare to open my tear-filled eyes, taking in his familiar face, and immediately, I feel at home. I can see he’s tortured, like me, by what has happened and by what is happening now. His eyes are glassy, and his mouth is parted, exhaling shaky breaths. I assume he is making an effort to control his emotions.
“We need to talk,” he pants. “That’s the real reason I didn’t go with my parents.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. That was the call I got at school. They were planning to leave early for their trip, so I left before lunch to go home and pack. That was when I read your poem, and I knew I had to stay.”
“Why didn’t you just call me?”
I can see happiness twinkle in his eyes.
“I wanted to see you. Liam said you were coming here. I asked him.”
I was set up? Damn. Liam didn’t even hint that he knew Brent was coming.
“Oh.”
“I think I was wrong. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe you just need to get help.”
I take a step back and cross my arms over my chest. “Help with what?” I fume. “What do I need help with?”
“Ruby…” He grunts, running his hand through his dark hair. “Damn it! I don’t know what the hell is going on. All I know is that I fucking love you, and I can’t help it. There’s something going on. I know it! Unless you tell me what it is, we can’t work on it. I was completely blindsided last weekend. You’re hiding something. You can’t tell me you thought I knew what was going on. Can you? What the hell?”
His seething is causing me to go on the defensive, but instead, I try to process what he’s saying to me.
“I don’t have a problem,” I tell him through tight lips.
“You’ve obviously been drinking tonight,” he says, motioning to my half-naked wet body.
I guess if I saw me, I would think I was drinking, too. Wait. Does he think I have a drinking problem? I can’t help but laugh.
“Do you think that’s what’s going on? First, it’s what you do at a party. If I have a drinking problem, then the entire senior class needs to start attending meetings. Second, I haven’t had anything to drink tonight. Not one single thing, but thanks for that. I appreciate your concern.”
“But the entire senior class doesn’t head out for a night at the bar…with their dad of all people. Something isn’t right.”
“You’re right. Something isn’t right, but you’ve got it all wrong. It’s not what you think. Really? A drinking problem?”
“Then, what is it?” His face softens, and he takes a step toward me, closing the gap between us. “Tell me.”
“I…I…” I try to talk through my trembling lips, but I can’t get out any other words. I’m becoming a pool of mush.
There are so many things I want to say. I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to tell him I should have been more open from the beginning. I want to tell him I love him so deeply that it cut me when he let me go. I want to tell him I’m scared to take the leap and trust him, but I know I need to.
Sensing my unease, he completely closes the distance between us. Pressing my wet body to his, I open the towel, my arms circling around him, as I lie my head on his shoulder. His arms wrap around me, and we bask in the comfort of one another. This unspoken consolation is what I have been craving. This is what I need right now more than anything.
“I miss you,” I mumble.
He rubs my back. “Ruby,” he huffs, “we need to talk about this. Something is going on, but I can’t stay away. Whatever it is, and I really don’t care what it is, please let me in. Don’t hide it from me.”
“I should have told you,” I concede. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to get involved. I don’t want anyone involved. It’s complicated.”
“Well, tell me about it. Anything with you, complicated or not, I want to know.”
He leans back and looks at my mouth, causing my heartbeat to quicken. My lips desire to touch his. I can’t resist it. Taking the first leap, I move my hands to cup his face, the towel dropping to the floor, as my mouth crashes into his.
There is nothing tender about the want and need of this kiss. It’s aggressive, and I take as much of him as I can to make up for every missed kiss this past week. I open my mouth to him, wanting to taste him again. His tongue enters with such passion and fervor that it’s almost as if we are attacking one another as we fight to get closer.
His firm arms pull me in tightly, molding my body to his. My fingers trace the outline of his neck, go down his shoulders, and then move over his collarbones to his chest. He shudders as I grip the fabric of his shirt in my palms.
“Sorry,” I gasp against his mouth. “I should get dressed. I’m sure I’m getting you all wet.”
“It’s not that,” he says through labored breaths. He traces my jaw with his lips. “But you should get dressed.”
He kisses me on the hollow of my collarbone and then quickly walks out the door.
I’ve never felt more naked than I do right now. In a hurried fashion, I shimmy into my jeans and shirt and then quickly finger comb the tangles out of my wet hair.
Trying to act casual, I exit the bathroom and head to the kitchen. When I turn the corner, I see that everyone has come back inside. They are all now sitting at the bar with towels wrapped around them. When my searching eyes find Brent sitting on a bar stool, he waves me over to join them. I have to lean over when he pulls me closer to whisper in my ear.
“I still want to talk. Will you come back to my house with me? Just you and me?”
His warm breath sends a chill down my spine.
“Yes,” I whisper without hesitation.
I’m anxious to tell him the truth, and I hope it will allow us to move forward together. He said he wants to know, and I want him to know. If we’re going to really be a we, then he needs to know all of me, not just the pieces I have allowed him to see so far. Standing up, he grabs my hand and begins to lead me to the front door.
“Are you two leaving?” Liam asks.
“Yeah, sorry, man,” Brent answers.
“Hey, Ruby, call me tomorrow. We might go hiking,” Casey adds.
“Oh yeah? Okay, I will.”
“You’re leaving?” Lexi questions, lifting an eyebrow.
I give her that knowing look. “Yeah. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, not at all.” She pulls her hand to her face, putting her thumb to her ear and pinkie to her mouth as she mouths “call me.”
I nod to Lexi before Brent pulls me into the hall and out of everyone’s sight.
Nerves, anxiety, and thoughts dance through my being as we walk to his car. I feel like I’ve been hoping for this moment for an eternity. Now that it is here, I hope I have the courage to take a leap of faith—with Brent.
Twenty-Four
Brent and I don’t say a word to each other until we’ve pulled out of Liam’s driveway. As soon as Brent is driving down the street, the verbal floodgates open.
“So, your poem...” Brent starts, keeping his face on the road. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Do I? Yes. Am I scared to? Yes. Is he worth it? Yes. Are we worth it? Absolutely.
“I know you don’t want to critique me now. Do you?”
I look over at him to see him smile a bit.
“No, I’m just wondering what you meant by it.”
I can do this. Just let it all go. Get it out there.
“I guess I wanted you to know that…I know things were messed up. They are messed up, and a lot of that is my fault. I needed to talk to you. That’s all. I’ve been wanting to talk to you all week.”
“I know. I could tell.” He pauses for a moment, thinking about something. “I wanted to talk, too, but I wasn’t ready.”
“Are you ready now?” I ask, daring a look in his direction.
“I’m ready to hear whatever you want to say, and I’m ready to figure us out.”
My body stills, overcome with emotions, when I hear those words cross his mouth. “Me, too.”
For the rest of the drive until we pull into his driveway, we are silent. After he puts the car into park, I reach for the handle. I feel Brent’s hand gently grab my arm, causing my head to turn toward him. Breathing deeply, he moves over the console and kisses me on the cheek, lingering longer than a peck. The warmth of his lips feels so comforting.
“Sorry. I needed to do that,” he admits.
“I needed you to do it, too,” I say as I realize it.
“C’mon, let’s go inside.”
Walking into his house without his parents at home feels strange. It’s late, and we’re alone. I’m used to an empty house where I live, but being here almost seems wrong. I keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for his parents to come out and catch us.
Obviously sensing my anxiety, Brent says, “Don’t worry. Nobody’s here. They’re in Chicago. My brother sent me a text as soon as they got there. They’re likely asleep already.”
We make our way into the living room. I take a seat in the wingback chair as Brent sits on the couch. He laughs a little, shaking his head.
“What?” I ask.
“You look like you’re waiting for an interrogation. You can sit next to me. I swear I won’t bite you.”
Am I nervous? Hell yeah, I am.
I move over to join him on the couch. “Brent…” I begin and then pause to clear my throat. “I’m so sorry about the other night. I never wanted you to see any of that.”
“Hold on.”
Scooting over on the couch, he puts one arm around my shoulder and places his other hand on top of the clasped hands in my lap. His eyes bear down on me until I meet them with my own.
Looking into my eyes, he says, “I’m sorry. We can talk about what happened in a minute. I really do want to know what’s going on since you tell me I have it all wrong, but I need to say something first.” He takes a moment looking up at the ceiling before returning gaze to me. “That night, when you and I were together, meant more to me than I think you’ll ever know. Being with you really was something more than amazing. God, I never wanted to hurt you. I don’t know if you can ever see that…if you will ever see that. The way everything went down later that night and then when we, I guess, broke up the next day was just all wrong. I wish it never happened. Truly.”
“I wish it never happened either—I mean, after we were together. The next day, I—”
“I told you what you meant to me. I still mean it. That didn’t change.”
“Yeah?”
The word barely crosses my lips before he gently and briefly kisses me.
“Absolutely.”
Then, he gives me another kiss, prolonging on my lips this time. I keep my eyes closed until there’s some distance between our mouths once again.
“But after?” I question.
He leans back. “I’m so sorry. I hate that I hurt you like that.”
“Everything else about that night killed me.”
“I never wanted that. That wasn’t what I wanted at all. All I wanted was to be with you in that moment. I handled this badly.”
“Me, too.”
Unable to look at him, I lean my head on his shoulder. I know it’s time to tell him everything. I’m really nervous about putting it out there, but I need to have faith that it’s for the best of everything.
“I need to tell you about that night. I was keeping something from you.” I breathe deeply. “Nights like that happen a lot at my house. I’m kind of regular at that bar, but I wasn’t there with my dad. I was there to get my dad. They know me there because of that. Nothing else. He’s got a problem. He was getting help, but he relapsed that night. He’s trying, but I don’t know. Last weekend, I think I was a little too hard on him. He really hasn’t been able to stay sober since then. His sponsor told me he’s been going to meetings, but I don’t think they’re doing any good.”
“Like a drinking problem? Drugs? Jesus! Does he hurt you?” Brent questions with raging concern.
I sit up to look at him. “No.” I sigh. “It’s nothing like that. I told you what happened to you at the bar was an accident. He wasn’t trying to hurt you. If he picks a fight, it’s usually with things that don’t move. Did you see his hand was bleeding?”
Brent raises his brow.
“Well, that was because he decided to punch the mirror in the bathroom. He does stuff like that. I’ve learned to just stay out of his way. I should have told you that, especially since you were there with me. That was my fault.”
Brent closes his eyes. I think he’s trying to process my explanation.
“Ruby, what happened to me that night isn’t your fault. Don’t ever think that. Ever.” He audibly breathes through his nose. “So, I guess that’s why I never met him? I don’t know why I’m just now realizing that I never met your parents. What about your mom? Does she have a problem, too?”
Fuck. I really have been leading a secret life.
“I…I just never talk about them. I tend not to stay at my house much. My mom… she died when I was little, so I never really knew her. I wasn’t trying to keep all this from you. I just don’t talk about it…with anyone. I should have told you a little more about myself, but I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It does matter, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. It’s part of you. I want to know all the parts of you.” Leaning back into the couch, he rubs his hands through his thick hair. “I’m sorry about your mom, and I wish I would have known about your dad. I can kind of understand why you don’t tell people. Maybe. I can’t believe I didn’t realize that I’d never met him before until that night. I never even thought it was weird that your parents didn’t ask to meet me. My parents were dying to meet you. I always talked about you, and then they saw you at the game. Didn’t you ever talk about me with your dad?”
Maybe parents actually speak to their kids about things other than making sure the electric bill is paid. That’s not my reality though.
“No, I didn’t tell him about you. Don’t take it personally, but I don’t talk to him about much of anything. We kind of lead separate lives. I don’t see him that often. It was getting better for a while, but after last weekend, I don’t know if it will ever get better.”
He pulls me in close, wrapping both arms around my body. “I had no idea your home life was anything like that for you. I would’ve never guessed any of that was going on. So, you’re kind of on your own for everything then?”
“It isn’t forever. I’ll be leaving when school is out. I’m just sorry that I dragged you into my mess. It isn’t fair to you…and you got hurt.”
“C’mon, Ruby. You didn’t drag me into anything. I just wish I knew earlier. You can’t do everything all the time by yourself.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Everyone has something,” he admits.
“Yeah, but most people don’t have to deal with my father, who put my boyfriend in physical danger.”
“Am I still your boyfriend?” he probes with sincerity.
“Do you still want to be? I’d hate for anything, like last weekend, to happen again. You don’t deserve that.”
“And you think you do?”
“No.”
“You don’t, and by the way, I am sticking around if you want me. I want to be with you. Just don’t keep me in the dark, okay?”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“You better not,” he says, pulling me into him.
“Just so you know, I want to be with you, too.” I close my eyes, feeling at home in his arms. “With everything that’s happened, I can’t believe you still want to be with me,” I say quietly. I’m embarrassed by my insecurity.
“Ruby…” He waits until I look up at him. “Maybe I haven’t been clear, and maybe it’s time that I am. I want to be with you because I need to be. Those other things don’t matter. I can handle all of them…because they’re part of you. I want to be with you because when I’m with you, near you, around you, I’m better than any other version of me.”
Why does he say such amazing things? What am I supposed to say after something like that?
“Thank you. You make me better, too.” I wish I could say more, but sometimes, it’s best to keep it simple.
We sit together, silently holding one another, for a while longer. I begin to yawn when my body starts to register the hour. It’s been a long week of stress and unknowns.
“You look tired,” Brent says against my ear.
“I am tired. Can you take me home?” I ask, standing up from the couch.
“Do you need to go home?”
“Not really, but I should go. Why?”
“Can you stay the night? With me? Here?”
I blink, allowing his words to sink in. Did I just hear him right?
He continues, “I’ve missed you, but if you need to go home—”
“I have to work really early in the morning,” I tell him tentatively.
“I don’t mind. I can take you in the morning.”
My heart is pounding in my ears. “Are you sure you want me to stay with you?” The thought of sleeping next to Brent, holding each other all night, sounds like the sweetest form of medicine to mend all of this week’s heartache.
These Days Series: After Tuesday | Forgotten Yesterday | Deciding Tomorrow Page 20
