by J. D. Mason
“What do you think?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I think. You wanted your interview and you got it. Now you’ve got your story for that magazine you work for, so I’d say we’re done.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t like his tone or the expression on his face. The worst part was, she’d felt that way three weeks ago. She’d never wanted to see him again, and yet, here she was, standing here, not sure of what she should say or do. Should she apologize? But for what? Ellis had taken liberties. He’d gone too far. He’d made assumptions. Cristina had been looking out for herself and sending a very strong message to him that she wasn’t going to let any man assume anything about her, ever again.
“I haven’t sent it to Jules yet,” she explained, looking down at the article. “I thought you should see it first, and give me your opinion.”
A menacing smirk curled his lips. “What is this? Some kind of a game?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
“You wrote the article, Cristina. What the hell do you need my opinion for?”
“I want to know what you think.”
“Why? I mean, you seem to have your mind all made up about me. I’m a lying, hotheaded, impulsive pig of a man with anger control and daddy issues.”
“That’s not what this says.”
“That’s exactly what it says.” Ellis pulled up a stool and sat down on it. “That’s what you think about me?” He furrowed his thick brow. “You talk to a few goddamned people in town and draw some bullshit conclusion about me that makes me look like some hairy beast who happens to find Jesus by slapping some paint on canvasses.”
“That’s not what this says,” she argued.
“So you believe that bullshit you wrote?”
Bullshit? Her blood pressure shot up a hundred clicks. “I wrote the whole story, Ellis. Not just the parts you wanted me to know, but the parts that you conveniently left out.”
“The article was supposed to be about the art, Cristina.”
“No! It’s supposed to be about you. Who you are. Your life, Ellis!”
“I told you who I was. I showed you. What wasn’t that enough?”
He waited for her to answer, but honestly, she didn’t have an answer. Cristina was doing her job. She’d promised Jules an in-depth interview of the man and the words she held in her hand were the end result of that.
“You thought I was lying,” he concluded on his own. “That’s it.”
“Not that you were lying,” she said reluctantly. “Just that you weren’t sharing everything with me.”
“I shared what I thought mattered.”
“It all matters,” she said.
Ellis looked absolutely defeated. “Look, whatever. You’ve got your article. It is what it is. I don’t even care.”
This is not what she wanted. The truth of the matter was that Cristina didn’t know what she wanted or why she’d even bothered to come here.
“I get it,” she said, exasperated. “I know it’s not easy seeing the whole of your life in print like this, Ellis, but…”
“How would you know that? Has somebody come along and written about you? About the whole of your life? Which, by the way, that’s not the whole of my life. That’s other people’s opinions of it. That’s all it is.”
So, he wasn’t happy. He didn’t like it. She’d come here feeling pretty sure that he wouldn’t, but she thought he should see it before it went to print.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, disappointed. Cristina stuffed the article into her briefcase and started to leave.
Ellis followed her out the door. “Why’d you come here? Seriously.”
She stopped and turned around. “I told you why.”
“Is this the last time we’re going to see each other?” he asked.
Cristina bit down on her bottom lip, and nodded, reluctantly. “I guess it is.”
“Then I need to know something.”
“What?”
“I tried to be as real with you as I knew how to be. So, why wasn’t that enough?”
“Enough? For the article?”
He shook his head. “For you.”
She swallowed. “I’m just the reporter, Ellis,” she said, shaking.
“Were you, Cristina? Was that all it was?”
Unexpected tears filled her eyes, and she hated herself for it. Cristina quickly blinked, hoping that he didn’t notice.
“Did you think I was lying about who I am?” he asked. “Did you think I was making up my life?”
Ellis was absolutely breathtaking to behold. In another time and place she’d have fallen so easily in love with him, but this was here and this was now, and Cristina was a holy mess inside. She’d come here looking for his demons, but instead had stumbled across her own.
“I believed everything you told me,” she finally admitted. “You showed me who you are.”
“And? You weren’t impressed?”
She almost smiled. “You were trying to impress me?”
“Hell yeah, I was. Thought it was working, too.”
“It was.”
“But not enough.”
A flood of emotions swelled inside her. Ellis had been so charming and so accommodating, and so very, very unpredictable. He’d held her interest every second that she spent with him in ways no one else ever had, and the promise of him was everything she’d ever dreamed of. But she wasn’t where he was. She wasn’t ready for what he offered.
“Just bad timing,” she said, sheepishly.
He tilted his head curiously to one side. “For you?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, feeling the burn of tears filling her eyes again. She didn’t want to cry. Cristina lowered her head. “I’ve got to go, Ellis.”
Before she could turn to leave, Ellis stopped and stood less than a foot away from her. “Who hurt you, Cristina?” he asked with so much sincerity that it opened up the floodgates, and she couldn’t help it. She cried.
“Cristina?”
She turned and practically ran back to her car. God! She hated feeling weak. She hated for anyone to see her vulnerable like this. She pulled open the door to get into the car, but Ellis came up behind her, closed it, and put both arms up on the roof, trapping her between him and the vehicle.
“You need to get away from me,” she warned him.
“Whatever it is, don’t let it own you,” he said sternly. “Whatever happened, don’t let it stop you from living your life on your terms.”
Cristina stared mesmerized into his eyes.
“Don’t be a prisoner, Cristina. Don’t lock yourself away because of it.”
Ellis raised his hands in surrender, stepped back, started walking back to his house, and never looked back.
CHAPTER 13
Ellis was a big boy. He could live with bad press. Hell, Cristina could write whatever she wanted to about him, he knew the truth. Ellis and his father had learned a long time ago that they were two very different people who believed in different things. If she’d expected the old man to gloat over his son’s successful art career, then she hadn’t done her homework. Randall Brewer didn’t give a shit about Ellis. Never did. Never would, but that was okay, because the feeling was mutual.
And anything Drew had to say had come from a dark place because he and Vince were cousins. Ellis couldn’t blame him for whatever doubts or misgivings he’d had about the whole thing that went down with Daneen, but Drew had a right to express his opinion as much as anyone. So, if she wanted to write about how much of an asshole Ellis had been, or about how stupid he’d been, then so be it. Cristina obviously felt that she had to rake him over the coals in order to exorcise her own demons, and if it helped, then he’d bite that bullet.
“Ellis?”
He hadn’t heard her come inside. Cristina stood in the doorway, staring helplessly back at him.
“It’s not you, it’s me?” she said, questioningly.
�
��Yeah,” he agreed. “I figured that out on my own.”
Cristina took several steps into his living room. “I … honestly don’t know what to do.”
Whatever she was struggling with had ahold of her real good. He wondered if she even knew how to let it go, or if she’d been living with it so long that she didn’t know how. Ellis understood what that was like. Some burdens were stubborn and too damn clingy.
“I know what I want you to do.”
Cristina took another step closer to him, pleading to him with her eyes for help.
“I want you to let your guard down with me.”
She pressed her lips together. Ellis expected her to argue or to defend herself, but she didn’t say a word.
“I want you to trust me.”
She took another step.
“Know that I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not your enemy.”
She blinked and tears began to fall down her cheeks. He wanted to go to her, but Ellis worried that she wasn’t ready for him. Not yet. Not quite.
“Who hurt you, Cristina? I know somebody did.”
She swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks and took a deep breath, then averted her gaze to any place in the room as long as she wasn’t looking at him.
“This guy I was seeing…” Cristina’s chest heaved up and down, but she fought for control of herself. She cleared her throat. “And his friend.”
A knot the size of a bowling ball settled into his stomach.
“It happened a little over a year ago.” She glanced quickly at Ellis and then let her gaze drift to the floor. “I never told anyone,” she said, taking a deep breath.
Ellis took a step toward her this time, but she backed away. “I keep thinking that I’m over it. I tell myself to let it go and to put it behind me because there’s nothing I can do about it.” She shrugged, and looked helplessly at him. “It’s done.” Tears fell again. “And I want to be normal again. I want to be touched, and held and kissed. I want to make love, but…”
Silence fell heavy between them for several minutes. Ellis had no idea what to say to her to fix this because he hadn’t broken it, but he was smart enough to know that she was taking a huge step in trusting him with this. And he wasn’t about to ruin it.
“You hungry?” he asked.
She looked caught off guard, but then, that was the point. “I—I don’t…”
“I’m hungry.”
“Okay.”
Of course they took his motorcycle, and Ellis drove to this dive bar that served the greasiest, most delicious burgers and fries in the state of Texas. The place was damn near abandoned this time of day. Cristina didn’t have much to say over lunch, and she didn’t have much of an appetite either, but Ellis still managed to talk her into playing a game of pool.
“I’m not very good at this,” she admitted.
“Good.” He grinned. “Then I’ll probably win.”
She smiled. It was a start. And she was right. She was pretty bad at it.
“Please, let me help you to make that shot,” Ellis begged, staring at the most delicious two opportunities he’d seen in a while. A beautiful bank opportunity into the side pocket, and a chance to put his arms around her.
“Oh ye of little faith,” she said smugly. “I think I’ve got this.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
“Really? Do you even see the shot?”
She stared down at the table, and from the blank expression on her face, he surmised that no, she did not see it.
“Yes.”
He laughed.
She laughed too.
He put down his stick, came over to her, stood behind her, and placed his hands over hers.
Cristina immediately tensed up. “Ellis,” she began to protest.
He lowered his mouth closer to her ear. “It’s just me and you, Cristina. It’s just us. Take a deep breath. I’ll wait.”
Ellis felt her slowly relax as he turned her toward the table and stood behind her, positioning her cue stick to make this miraculous shot that he saw unfolding in his head. She fit perfectly in his arms as they leaned across the table.
“It’s all about perspective,” he said softly in her ear. “Sometimes, the best choice isn’t always the most obvious.”
He drew back his arm, and hers, and lightly tapped the white ball so that it hit the wall in front of it, angled back, and then hit the seven ball perfectly, knocking it into the side pocket.
“Yes!” she yelled and pumped her fist. “Oh, hell yes!”
He stepped back, proudly, knowing full well that she would not have made that shot had it not been for him, but Ellis was enough of a gentleman to let her ass gloat, for now.
It was nearly eleven by the time they made it back to his house. Ellis fully expected her to get in her car and drive back to her hotel. She handed him back his helmet, and stood there.
“What?” he asked.
She nervously cleared her throat. “Can I stay?”
Ellis raised a brow in surprise. “Here?”
“I’m not … I just don’t want to sleep by myself tonight.”
She wanted to sleep with him. Ellis had no problem with that.
“Yeah.”
They went inside and went straight to the bedroom. His man brain was jumping for fucking joy over the prospect of having sex with the woman of his dreams. But Cristina quickly put him in check when she slipped off her shoes and climbed into bed on top of the covers, fully clothed.
Man brain lost its erection, and Ellis humbly followed suit, and also climbed onto the bed in all his clothes.
“Good night,” she said with her back turned to him.
He lay flat on his back staring up at the ceiling, until finally, Ellis had had enough. “Aw, hell naw,” he said, gruffly turning over on his side, wrapping his arm around her waist, and pulling her into his arms. “If you’re going to sleep with me, then sleep with me, baby.” Ellis wrapped her in a bear hug.
Cristina’s body momentarily stiffened, and then slowly relaxed and she surprisingly snuggled in closer to him, and moaned. “This is nice.”
“It’d be nicer with no clothes on.”
“Good night, Ellis.”
He grunted, inhaled the scent of her hair, and eventually drifted off to sleep.
* * *
When was the last time she’d slept through the night? Cristina couldn’t remember. She opened her eyes to the sun shining through the window, and wrapped securely in Ellis’ arms. A part of her felt guilty for using him like this, maybe even for leading him on. Is that what she was doing? There was a difference between being alone and being lonely, and last night, she didn’t want to be either of those things.
Ellis stirred, took a deep breath, and pulled her even closer, as if that were possible. And she let him. He couldn’t fix her, what was broken inside her, but being with him helped to soothe her wounds. And maybe that was enough. Maybe to expect anyone to do more than that was unrealistic. Cristina had a lot to overcome, and the way she saw it, it was all up to her. It was a slow and painful process, though. There were times when she didn’t think she’d ever get back to herself again. Would she ever be able to trust and to fall in love and to make love without thinking about that night and what those two men did to her?
“How’d you sleep?” he asked groggily.
Even his voice settled that dark beast inside of her. “Better than I have in a long time.”
Ellis kissed the top of her head. “You’d have slept even better if we’d been naked.”
Even she had to admit that the thought was certainly appealing. “You’re probably right.”
“Yeah. I know I am.”
CHAPTER 14
Cristina was back in Austin the next day standing over the shredder in her office, feeding each page of her original article about Ellis Brewer into the device, convinced that sending it off to Jules would’ve been the mistake of her career. There are facts and there are truths. The facts were tha
t Ellis had been a hothead when he was younger. He’d done things he shouldn’t have based on the word of one woman who didn’t even have the courage to come forward and tell the truth to the police. Ellis’ father was not his biggest fan, and Drew Jones was not his best friend. So, where did that leave the fate of Cristina’s dossier on Ellis Brewer, the artist? It left her with the task of falling back on her instincts, which she hadn’t trusted in a very long time. Who he had been mattered, some. Who he was now, is what mattered the most.
She was sitting down at her desk starting over from scratch and deciding how she wanted to start this story when her phone rang.
“This is Cristina,” she answered.
“Cristina Cole?” the woman asked, nervously. “The reporter?”
“Yes.”
“H-hi. I’m Daneen Conner, uh, Madison now, and I heard that you were looking for me?”
While in Blink, Cristina had left messages with several of Daneen’s family members, asking her to call. She’d given up after all this time, thinking that Daneen wasn’t interested in talking about Ellis or about what had happened to her a decade ago.
“Yes,” Cristina said hesitantly. Did she really want to open this can of worms now, especially since she and Ellis were back on civil terms? A major part of Ellis’ past rested with Daneen Conner. A part of Cristina couldn’t help but feel that maybe that’s where it should stay. “I’m doing a story on Ellis Brewer,” she explained.
“Yeah, I know. He’s a big-time artist now,” she said, sounding impressed.
“He is. I’ve been working on a story about the very interesting life he’s had and the impact of his experiences on his work.”
“You’re talking about the time he spent in prison,” she said after a long pause.
“Not just that time, but yes. I’d like to get as much insight as I can regarding his life.” Cristina had gone through the trouble of reaching out to this woman. She’d given Ellis’ father and even his friend Drew an opportunity to speak on their relationships with Ellis. Even if she never relayed a word of theirs, including Daneen’s, to anyone, there was still a part of her that wanted to hear what this woman had to say.
