Breaking Cage

by A. J. Pryor

  She’s quiet, and it’s making me jittery.

  “Hannah, I’m sorry about the way I left. Please let me explain.”

  She sighs, and I hope that means she’s relenting. I need to see her, even if only for a few minutes.

  “Ten minutes.” Yes. I wait in the lobby, my focus trained on the metal elevator doors.

  A few moments later, she emerges, a beautiful sight in her tight jeans and fluffy white sweater that makes her seem innocent and sweet. It makes me grin.

  “Hi,” I say.

  She doesn’t speak, doesn’t smile. She looks me over hesitantly. “Hi,” she finally replies. She glances at her watch. “You’re down to nine.”

  Hands in my pockets, resisting the urge to grab her, kiss her, touch her everywhere, I take a step in her direction. “I wanted to show you something.”

  “At ten o’clock on a Wednesday night?”

  I nod. “It’s the best time for this adventure . . . if you want to be a Midwesterner, that is.”

  She backs away. “No.”

  “Hannah,” I say desperately.

  “No!” Her expression is stern, her voice firm. “You don’t get to disappear on me for three days without a word and then show up like nothing happened, like everything’s fine and dandy. You don’t get to do that.” I stare at her strong stance, listen to the force and determination in her voice, the self-confidence in her eyes. She’s not afraid of me, she never has been. She must have discovered things about Lily, heard the rumors and yet she always seems immune to the accusations, like she knows I’m innocent without having been told. The idea that she could trust me, makes my pulse beat faster. I know I tarnished that trust, but I’m going to earn it back.

  My hand over my heart, I plead with her. “You’re right, I don’t, and that’s not what this is. What I did Sunday was a total dick move, but I did it for a reason. Let me explain it to you. Please.”

  Her arms fold over her chest, her chin rises in a challenge. “Tell me now. I’m listening, but I’m not going anywhere with you.” She glances at her watch. “And you’re down to six minutes.”

  “I was afraid. Terrified,” I blurt.

  Confusion wrinkles her brow. “Of what? Me?”

  “Yes. No.”

  “That’s not an answer, Cage. Go home.”

  I take a step closer. “I still have five minutes left.” I take another step, and she holds her ground. “I feel something when I’m with you. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.” I shrug. “I needed to sort it out.”

  Thank fuck her shoulders soften, and her lips lose the frown. She’s going to forgive me, going to let me take her out. She may not know it yet, but her body does.

  “Did you?” A shadow of sympathy laces her voice.

  I step in front of her. “I figured some things out. I still have a fuck-load of childhood dysfunction to work through.” Taking a deep breath, I scan her face, watch her lips part, and try to tamp down the heated desire to touch them. “But us, yeah, I figured that out, and I’m here, promising I’ll never walk out on you again.”

  She stays silent, and it’s torturous. If she’s even half as attracted to me as I am to her, she’ll forgive me.

  I hold out my hand.

  In quiet contemplation, she stares at it. When she finally places her palm in mine, relief, pure and strong rushes me. I resist the urge to pull her into my arms, resist the desire to take us back to Sunday night, back to her bed, and start all over again. I need to earn her trust, and I need to do it right.

  “Will you let me show you something?” I ask.

  Resigned, she nods.

  Entwining my fingers with hers, I give a gentle squeeze and lead her outside.

  “What’s this?”

  “My truck.”

  “Your truck? It’s sheet metal.”

  Struck in the heart, I pull back. “Don’t talk about her like that. She has feelings.”

  “Another she?”

  I shrug. “I like women.”

  A hurt expression crosses her face, and I regret my words. I regret a lot of the things I’ve said to Hannah, but that’s going to change, starting tonight.

  “Right now, there’s just one woman I’m interested in, though.”

  “Right now?” She looks even more hurt, and I wonder what she’s read about me and other women. Fuck. They’re meaningless.

  “Only one woman. Period.”

  “Priscilla?” she deadpans.

  “No, she’s in hibernation for the upcoming polar vortex.”

  Scratching the back of her head, Hannah walks to my beat-up old Ford pickup.

  “Hannah,” I place a hand on her shoulder, and she flinches. “I’m sorry.”

  She nods but doesn’t look at me.

  I brush the hair out of her eyes. She’s gorgeous, and I hate that she’s frowning because of me. I don’t know if I can give her what she deserves, but I have to try. The need to make her laugh, make her smile, is like a pull on my chest. This sudden want to find out what a life with Hannah would be like resides in everything I do. Destiny is funny like that. You can go years thinking you’re alone in the dark and dirty world, and suddenly, fate is staring you in the face. You can be a coward and ignore the truth, or you can surrender, wave the white flag, and finally start living. I’m ready to start living, today, this minute, with this beautiful woman.

  I never thought my life would take this turn, never thought I’d want to give up my privacy, let go of everything I’ve known and dive into something new. Someone new. But I do. I want more of this woman. I love that she’d rather watch a surf contest over a football game, love that her favorite food is pizza and that she hates ranch dressing. I want to take her skiing in Japan and then sunbathing in Hawaii, take her to her favorite places to vacation and watch her enjoy each second she’s there. I want to be the one to take her to Paris and feed her pasta in Rome. I love the way she stands up for herself and keeps pushing, even though I’ve given her nothing. I love that she’s a terrible drunk and yet trusts me to take care of her. But there’s still so much more I want to know.

  I tilt her chin up, and her eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry,” I say again.

  “When I woke up and you were gone, I thought I’d pushed you too far. Derek, if you allow your past to own you, you’ll never be ready for someone like me. Your past can help define you, but don’t let it be you.”

  “Come with me, Hannah. Let me show you who I am.”

  She rests a hand on the edge of the truck and nods. My heart beats a little faster. “Okay, but where are you taking me in this thing?”

  “You’ll see.” I want to feel her heart beat against mine, have her touching me, her lips pressed to mine. I’ll prove to her I’m not the asshole who left her three nights ago. I’ll prove to her I’m what she’s looking for. I won’t be the stereotypical athlete—I’ll be better. I’ll be me. The real me. The me that no one else knows.

  Anything I have ever given a man, I’ve given willingly. Second chances aren’t my thing. If you burn me, I’ll forgive you, but I’ll never look at you the same way again. This is different. Derek hurting me hurt him worse. I can see it in his eyes, can feel it in the tension of his body, the stiffness in his shoulders.

  If I hadn’t taken his hand, it would have broken him. And he’s broken enough. He needs to heal from the pain of his past, and I believe I can help him. He’s trying. He’s here, and that gives me hope.

  We are bumping over ditches, the truck making loud revving sounds while we drive through the wilderness of some desolate field. Another of Chicago’s great wonders.

  “Is this all you people do? Drive into empty fields and make out?” I ask.

  His eyes widen. “Is that an offer, Angel?”

  I look at him and smile.

  In the darkness, his fingers find mine and I curl my fingers into his.

  “My grandpa used to say Illinois was the flattest land on Earth. He would joke that it was the only place he’d ever been whe
re you could watch your dog run away for miles.”

  “Your grandpa?”

  He nods, keeping his focus on the road.

  “From my mother’s side. He owned a farm out in Minooka. We had a big family with lots of cousins, aunts, and uncles.”

  “Do you keep in touch with them?”

  The truck rocks over a few bumps, and he tightens his hand on mine. “They’re all dead.”

  “Derek.” The stark realization that everyone important in this man’s life is dead hits me, and I can’t keep the sympathy out of my voice.

  He caresses my hand with his thumb.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” he says. “They all lived on that farm, my mother the only one to lead a different life. One night, a fire killed them all in their sleep. Investigators called it a tragic accident. Something to do with the fire detectors being disabled for repair work.”

  My sweat-slicked palm suctions to his. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  “What about the family on your dad’s side? Are they still alive?”

  I want to know more. I want to know it all, but I don’t know how to explain to him I want to know for me, not just for the story.

  “Some uncles and cousins. But I’m not close to them. After . . . after Lily died, that side of the family shunned me. I’ve never been very good at being a Cage.”

  The mention of Lily has my blood racing, my journalistic instincts kicking in. I’m about to ask more about her when he changes the subject.

  “What about you, Hannah, are all your grandparents still alive?”

  “They are.” Guilt at the ease of my life pricks at me. Maybe the idea that not all lives have to end as tragically as his has will comfort him. I tell him about my four grandparents and the fact that we all lived within a thirty-mile radius of each other, and about our Sunday night dinners and the late nights we’d stay up watching re-runs of Family Feud. I detail the trouble my father is in and what I’m doing to help him. Through it all, he keeps a tight grip on my hand and a smile on his lips.

  “Your family sounds awesome.”

  “They are. My dad has to win this case, or it will tear everyone apart.”

  “Is that the reason you took this job?”

  I nod. “I lost everything when Spencer entered my life. He found a way to steal from me, and I had no case, no way to press charges. Larry pays really well and I figured if I left town, maybe Spencer and his mom would forget about me . . . long enough to drop the case against my dad anyway.”

  “How did you convince Larry to hire you?”

  “I lied.”

  The sound of his deep chuckle makes me smile. “And he bought your bullshit?”

  I look over at him. “I’ve been successful at getting some of the most private A-list celebrities to open up. I don’t think Larry Solomon was paying too close attention to whether my facts were accurate. I needed this job, and he needed a story. It was perfect timing on my part.”

  He’s silent. “Does that make you think of me differently?”

  “No. I find you fascinating.”

  “Right here,” he says, putting the truck in park. He shifts in his seat, not letting go of my hand. “I hate the media, Hannah, fucking hate it. But I’m happy Larry bought your bullshit. If there’s anything I can do to help your father, just say the word, and it’s yours.”

  I stare out the window, hiding my emotions. “Thanks, Cage.”

  We’re in an open field, and his headlights illuminate hundreds and hundreds of wildflowers, an abandoned farm house a shadow in the distance. Opening the passenger door, I hop onto the ground, surrounded by the thick brush of flowers, the smell of nature and the chill of fall air, countless stars, and miles of nothing but beauty. The ground crunches beneath my black boots.

  “Nothing is going to come out and eat me, right?” I ask, taking another tentative step forward.

  Coughing back a laugh, Derek rounds the truck. “I can’t promise that, Hannah.”

  “Is this . . . your family’s farm?”

  “No. This place has been abandoned for years. Reggie and . . . Lily and I used to come here late at night and go cow tipping.”

  “Cow tipping?”

  “Yeah. But I think you’ve outgrown a tutorial on that aspect of Midwestern living.”

  He opens the back door to his pickup.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Come here and find out.”

  Curiosity outweighing fear of a wild animal bite, I follow him. He has blankets and pillows spread out on the bed of the truck and a six-pack of Budweiser on display. I pick up a can.

  “Very Midwest, Hannah.”

  I peel back the tab and take a sip. My taste in beer starts and stops with Corona, but when in Rome. “Ugh, this is disgusting.” I wince and place the can down.

  Derek laughs and picks up the can. He takes a sniff and shivers. “Yeah, not my first choice either.”

  He jumps into the truck and offers me his hand.

  “Star gaze with me?” A gentle tremor shakes his voice. Perhaps fear I might say no? My heart dips at his childlike innocence. Derek may have women, but I’m guessing he’s never had to play the romantic, never had to woo any of them. I grab his outstretched hand and hop into the pickup bed with him. It’s chilly with no camper, but I have a feeling Derek will make sure we’re warm.

  He relaxes back into the pillows, his arms behind his head. The moon is giving a hazy light, enough that I can see his large frame stretched along almost the entire length of the bed, and his width takes up the other half.

  “Lie with me.”

  I sit back, a little stiff and awkward at first until he pulls me against him. The faint scent of his cologne comforts me, and the strong embrace of his arms has me releasing any pent up tension. Snuggled up under the stars, I’m more comfortable than I should be. The blankets underneath are providing a soft cushion, and Derek, a perfect pillow.

  The stories of our families begin to fade, as this becomes my reality.

  He takes a deep comforting breath, his arm tightening around me. “Once upon a time, there was a girl,” he says, “and I loved her more than life.”

  And with that, this incredible night fractures.

  “Lily Harold,” I say.

  A soft vibration runs through him. She haunts him. She’s always haunted him.

  “Who was she, Derek?”

  Sighing, he tilts his face up, talking to the heavens, possibly giving Lily a chance to hear his side of the story. “My best friend, my girlfriend, my first love. She was my everything.” I watch him struggle with an emotion I can’t name. A lost look, a pain that still slices the edge of his soul. “And then she died.”

  “You were the last person to see her alive.”

  “I was.” He shuts his eyes, and I assume he’s thinking back to that night. “I should have gone inside with her, shouldn’t have let her enter a dark house alone.”

  He releases me, sits up, and rests his arms on his knees. “They blamed me.” His eyes meet mine. “The entire town blamed me for her death. Said I killed her.”

  “Did you?”

  His head snaps back, and tension freezes his body. “Do you think I’m capable of murder?”

  I rest a hand on his arm, and he flinches. “No. But I think you believe you are.”

  He takes a deep breath, pausing before his next admission.

  “At times it seems as though destruction follows me everywhere, a shadow casting doubt. I see it in the way people look at me, feel it in the way they respond when I’m around. When I graduated from high school, I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this town. Away from the silent accusations, the guilt, Lily.”

  Sliding a leg over his hips, I straddle him, lay my head on his chest, and listen to his heartbeat. Strong, steady, and fully alive.

  “Talk to me, Derek. Let me help you find some peace.”

  “Want to know why they call me The Rage?”

  I nod.

 
“I got into a few fights in high school. Mostly stupid guy shit that Reggie started. But after Lily died, it wasn’t stupid shit anymore. It was a defensive move to get people to stay away from me.”

  “First year with the 49ers, a teammate, Samuel Johnson, approached me. He knew details of Lily’s murder that even I didn’t know. Called me a murderer and threatened to ruin my football career if I didn’t come clean. I beat the shit out of him.”

  I lift off his body. “Seriously? How did he have those details?”

  “No clue. Probably hired some detective to get dirt, to rile me up on purpose.”

  “Was there media coverage? Why haven’t I come across the story?”

  “Players fight sometimes, Hannah, and I’d already earned the name The Rage. I was living up to it.”

  “And are you still? Is there a reason people still call you The Rage?”

  He runs his fingers through my hair. “I didn’t understand what this was between us, this pull. After Lily died, I shut down. Didn’t date, had no interest in anything but football and working hard. Let people think I’m an angry asshole who will kill you if you fuck with me. But that’s not really who I am.”

  “That’s not the man I see.” I brush my fingers along his jaw. “I’ve never seen the man you’re describing. I see a man fiercely protective of himself and the people he cares about, and I see a man who is troubled.”

  He nods.

  “I’m not a monk, Hannah. I’ve found pleasure in women with the same needs—a night with no strings, an escape. Sex has always been that for me—a way to relieve stress, a basic, human need. But with you, it was so much more.” He cups my face, and his thumbs sweep across my cheeks. “Being inside you was altering in ways I can’t explain. It was addicting and if I hadn’t left, I would have stayed forever. My dark parts, Hannah, they’re ugly. I don’t want that part of me in you. I don’t want to tarnish you. But I’m not willing to stay away either.”

  No one has ever spoken to me with such passion, with such honesty. I want to explore what this is with Derek. I can’t deny what we shared the other night, and I don’t want to deny what I’m feeling now.