“You need socks?” I holler down to her.
“Please. It’s cold.”
When I walk back downstairs, I hand her the clothes and show her to the guest bathroom.
“Thanks. Just give me a few minutes.”
“Take your time,” I say as I close the door and return to the living room.
Sitting back on the couch, I turn on the TV and start flipping through the channels. When I hear the bathroom door open, I watch her walk towards me. She’s gripping the fabric of the pants, trying to keep them from dragging on the floor. My pants and t-shirt swallow her up and hang on her, but she’s adorable as hell.
Seeing her in my clothes—I like it. And in this moment, I pretend that she’s mine because I want her to be. I can’t figure out why. Why this girl? All I know is, when I’m not with her, I want to be.
She sits down on the couch with me, but not close enough. Her hair is still in a bun, and I grab it, wanting to make her laugh, and tease, “This is cute.”
Ducking her head, she says, “Whatever,” as she swats at my hand, and gives me what I want—her smile.
“Come here,” I say as I lean back into the couch and she follows, settling herself in my arms when I wrap them around her. “So, what happened?” I ask, wanting to know what made her so upset earlier.
“I have this tough piece of music,” she starts to explain. “I’m having a hard time connecting with it. My instructor keeps telling me what I need to fix, but I don’t really know how. It’s frustrating. I can perfect my moves, but I don’t know how to get into this piece.”
“So she just bashed you the whole time?”
“It’s how she is. But the fact that she even came in to work with me is unheard of. She’s extremely stern, but she’s only trying to help me.”
“I didn’t like seeing you upset,” I admit to her.
When she looks up at me, she says, “It’s not a big deal, really.”
“I didn’t like it,” I repeat, wanting her to know that I feel for her in a way that seeing her like that bothered me. I keep my eyes on her, and when I sense her feeling uncomfortable, she looks away from me and I ask, “You want that cup of coffee?”
“That’d be great; I’m still really cold.”
“There are some blankets in the trunk by the fireplace,” I tell her as I walk into the kitchen. I watch her move around the room as I quickly brew her a cup of coffee. “How do you take it?” I ask as she wraps herself up in one of my blankets and sits back down on the couch.
“One sugar and really blond,” she responds from across the room.
“You getting warm?” I ask when I walk back in and hand her the cup of coffee.
“Trying too.” She cradles the mug in her hands and takes a slow sip. When she turns to see what’s playing on the TV, she laughs softly under her breath.
“What’s so funny?” I question.
“You.” She looks at me when she continues. “I don’t know anyone who watches the classic movie channel, aside from you.”
“You want me to change it?”
“No, it’s fine,” she says as she shifts back on the couch, allowing me to drape my arm around her. “I’m only teasing you.”
Kicking my feet up onto the coffee table, we watch ‘The Blue Dahlia’ with her head resting on my chest.
***
She’s still in my clothes when I drive her to her car that’s back at the dance studio. As I pull up next to her car, I ask, “Why don’t you come up to the bar and hang out with us tonight?”
“I can’t.”
I nod my head at her response, which never changes every time I invite her to Blur.
“I’m sorry,” she tells me. “But I’m just really tired and will probably go to bed early. Plus, I have the early shift at work tomorrow.”
“Your boss doesn’t strike me as the type who would mind if you came into work a little hungover,” I joke.
“You’re probably right about that,” she says with grin. “But I’ve never drunk enough to have ever been hungover.”
“Never?” I question, shocked that this girl is so innocent that she’s never been drunk.
“Don’t act surprised,” she defends.
“I’m more relieved.” I love that she’s pure in a way. That she’s good and not tarnished like me—like all the others.
“I’m not even going to ask why,” she laughs as she shakes her head. “But thanks for today.”
“Anytime.”
“Tell Mark and Jase I said hi when you see them tonight, okay?” she says as she opens the door and gets out. When she turns to look back at me, she adds, “Thanks again for being there today. It probably would have ended up being a crappy day if I just went home.”
“Thanks for letting me be there.”
I watch as she gets into her car and drives off before backing out and heading to work. When I walk in, I make my way over to the bar and spot everyone hanging out while Mel works the bar. I’m a little surprised to see Gavin since our last run-in wasn’t all that pleasant.
None of them see me as I watch them interact. I look at Jase and Mark and see how they’re so happy. They have a direction in life that I’ve been missing. They have a close relationship with each other and even with Candace, something I’ve spent my whole life avoiding. I shift my focus over to Gavin who’s putting the moves on some random chick and I see me. I see the person I’ve been for so many years, and from this angle, it doesn’t look good. Drifting. That’s all I’ve been doing.
My life has been empty, but I never really saw it so clearly until seeing Candace, Mark, and Jase. I see their connection, their focus, and it makes me realize how unfulfilling my life has been up to this point. Up until her. The draw is there; it always has been, but it’s beyond the pull. She’s filling me with an awareness I never saw before. She’s made me take a step back to see my life for what it is—disconnected and stagnant.
Before any of them sees me, I turn and walk up to my office. Pulling out my phone, I call Tori. I need assurance, and I know she’ll help me.
“Ryan, hey.”
Sitting at my desk, I ask, “You busy?”
“Not at all. Trevor’s putting the kids to bed. What’s up?”
“Are you happy?” I ask, remembering the flipside of this conversation when we had it back in the summer at my mom’s house.
“What’s going on?” she asks, picking up on the seriousness in my tone.
“Just tell me. You and Trevor, are you happy?”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “I’m happy. We have our issues. Everyone does, but I’m happy.”
I’m scared to fall any more than I already have for Candace, but I want to. God, I want to so bad. I want to connect. I want everything that I’ve been too afraid of.
My mom and dad used to be happy. There was a time when they really loved each other. She’s told me about it, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t enough, and that love transformed into a living hell. The hell is all I remember. The screaming, the fighting, the beatings, the constant turmoil and fear. Then I see Tori and her family. They’re happy. They’re okay.
I’m still scared though, but the thought of walking away scares me more.
“Ryan, you there?” she asks.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“So are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”
I’ve always been honest with Tori, so I go ahead and tell her, knowing my words are safe with her, “I met someone.”
“Is this that someone you denied back at Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s bothering you about it?” she questions.
“I have a seedy past, and I’ve never done this. I’ve never wanted to. But she’s nothing like anyone I have ever known, and she makes me nervous.”
“You think she’ll judge you for the choices you’ve made?”
“She’s nothing like me. She’s so green, and I’ve been fucking chick after chick since I was fifteen.” Just saying the
words is almost mortifying. Sickening. And what was once something I couldn’t care less about is now something that I’m embarrassed about. Ashamed.
“I don’t have a picture perfect record either. You know that. But Trevor loves me regardless of who I was before him,” she tells me. “That’s the thing about love . . . it’s a pretty powerful force that can show a side of you that you never knew existed. Show you that you’re capable of becoming someone you never thought you could be, and you do it for the other person because you love them, because you want to put them before yourself.”
I don’t say anything. I just let her words soak in. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. All I know is, I want to—for her.
“Just a piece of advice,” she adds. “Don’t ever lie to her about who you are. If she ever asks, be honest.”
“Yeah.” When she says this, I begin to have doubts that it will ever get to that point. I don’t even know where this girl’s head is at. Just because I want her doesn’t mean anything. What if I’m just wasting my time? Shit. I see how she is with Jase. What if that’s just how she is with her friends? I even see it when she’s with Mark. All she has given me is exactly what I see her giving to the two of them.
Suddenly, I’m questioning everything.
Chapter Sixteen
I’ve been trying to shake my self-doubts about Candace for the past few days. We continue to chat on the phone and text back and forth, but I can’t help wondering if any of this is different with me than it is with Jase and Mark.
Needing a distraction, I decide to get my Christmas shopping done for the kids today. I thought hitting the gym would help, but here I am, still doubting. My cell starts ringing as I’m grabbing my coat to head out.
It’s her.
“Hey.”
“Hi. You busy?” she asks, and something about the sound of her voice erases my questioning thoughts.
“No,” I lie as I toss my leather coat onto the couch. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Jase and Mark left early this morning for Ohio, and I’ve just been sitting around the house. I didn’t know if you wanted to hang out.”
“Oh, I see. Second best since the boys aren’t there to keep you entertained,” I tease with a laugh.
“No,” she drags out in feigned annoyance at my joke. “And you’re not second best,” she adds, and I’m happy she does because I like hearing it.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Anything. I just want to get out of my house,” she says in a way that makes me think of her non-existent roommate. I know she lives with a girl, but in the past couple of months I’ve been hanging out with Candace, I’ve never seen or heard her talk about her roommate, but if she needs to get away, I’ll take her away.
“You up for shopping?”
“Shopping?” she questions.
“Yeah, I need to do some Christmas shopping for my nieces and nephews. You in?”
“Um, yeah. That sounds good.”
“I’ll come pick you up,” I tell her before we hang up, and just like that, my day got better.
***
When I pull into her drive, I see her walking down the steps of her front porch. She looks perfect with her leopard scarf wrapped around her neck and her hair down. When she gets into my car, she looks at me staring at her and asks, “What?”
Being honest, I tell her, “I like your hair down.” She usually has it in a piled mess on top of her head, which always looks sexy on her, but I have to admit that it’s cutest when she’s in school, and it’s almost always in a tight bun since she dances every day. But I rarely ever see her with her hair down like it is now.
She looks uncomfortable with the compliment and doesn’t respond to it, instead asking, “Can we stop by Peet’s and grab something to drink?”
Laughing at her deflection, I say, “Sure,” before backing out and heading over to Fremont. As I’m driving, I notice that she seems a little absent as she stares out the window.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, and when she faces me, she questions, “Why?”
“You seem distracted.”
“Sorry,” she says and I can tell she’s abashed. “Thanks for picking me up.”
Not sure what’s causing her mood, I intend to dispel it. Smiling over at her, I say, “Anytime.”
We luck out, finding a parking spot right in front of Peet’s, and the place is crowded when we walk in. Candace stands close to me while we wait in line. She’s fidgety, absentmindedly wringing her hands together.
A burst of cold air floods in, and when the chime from the door goes off, Candace startles and turns to see an older couple walking in. Her face is nearly stone when I look down at her.
“Hey,” I say as gently as I can, and when she turns around, I ask, “You sure you’re okay?”
Fixing a smile on her face, she looks up at me and assures, “Yeah. Maybe I should just get a decaf tea or something,” with humor I’m not buying, but I’m not questioning it either. I reach down and when I take her hand in mine, she grips me tightly as if she needs the comfort of my touch.
After we order our drinks, we walk out into the brisk air, and she finally seems to breathe easy. Crowds. I forgot for a moment that she doesn’t like them, and Peet’s was packed with people needing a hot drink to warm up.
Opening the car door for her, I help her up and then walk around to get in. We drive across town to a massive toy store that’s my go-to spot for the kids. We listen to an old David O’Dowda album as we fight the holiday traffic, and when we pull up, we grab our drinks and head inside.
“So, what are you looking for?” she asks as she gets a cart and starts following me down one of the aisles.
“Don’t know. These kids aren’t too hard to please though,” I tell her as I stop and flip through a few board puzzles.
“How old are they again?”
“Young. All under five,” I say as I start wandering around. “Honestly, they’d be happy with a box of tissues and a stick.”
She laughs at my words, and I turn back to her to get a glimpse. “That’s nice,” she says, teasingly.
“It’s true.”
When we turn down the next aisle, filled with pink . . . everything, Candace stops to admire a collection of dolls. I step up behind her and quip, “You want one?”
She looks at me over her shoulder, and mocks, “No, I don’t want one,” before looking back at them. “They’re pretty.”
“Grab a couple,” I tell her and watch as she picks out two of the dolls and puts them in the cart.
We take our time, slowly strolling, grabbing toys here and there as she continues to ask about my family.
“So, seven nieces and nephews . . .”
“Yep.”
“All cousins’ kids?” she asks.
“I’m an only child, remember?”
Nodding her head, she says, “That’s right. I forgot. You all sound close.”
“I’m closest to my cousin, Tori. We spent a lot of time together while we were in high school. We lived in different towns, but would always get together on the weekends. Partying and surfing.”
“You surf?” she asks as she looks over at me.
“I grew up on the beach.”
“Jase surfs,” she tells me.
“Yeah, he’s mentioned that to me. Grew up in San Diego, right?”
“Uh huh. He goes to Westport every now and then.”
“I’ve been there a few times, but I go back to Cannon Beach frequently, so I normally get my fill when I’m there,” I tell her and catch her staring down the next aisle. “What are you looking at?”
“I always wanted one of those,” she whines with excitement as she starts walking towards a huge wire bin filled with inflated Hop N Bounce balls. I laugh while I watch her grab one out of the bin and turn to me. “My friend had one of these when we were little, but she would never let me play with it.”
“Why didn’t you ask your parents for one?”
“
I did, but . . .” she trails off, and when she does, I encourage, “Take it for a spin.”
She completely surprises me when she doesn’t even hesitate. Holding the ball by the handle, she walks over to me and hands me her drink. “Here. Hold this.”
Taking her tea, I question, “You serious? That’s a toy for an eight-year-old,” I poke.
She sets the large ball on the ground and sits on top of it, saying with a huge smile, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about the same size as an eight-year-old,” before spinning around and bouncing away from me down the aisle.
I watch her, laughing as she bobs up and down, enjoying seeing her let go for a moment. She isn’t worried about how she looks; she never has been. Not embarrassed in the slightest and I revel in this moment.
When she turns to bounce back towards me, I start cracking up at the laughter coming out of her. I’ve never seen her like this—so carefree. It’s beautiful, and I just want to grab her off that stupid ball and kiss her. Just take her and make her mine, so I can touch her whenever I want—to have her.
She finally stops bouncing and stands up, still holding the ball in her hands. She continues to giggle while telling me, “Totally worth the wait.”
“Must have been a good ride,” I say. “I think the whole store heard you laughing.”
She tosses the ball into the cart, and as I cock my head in question, she clarifies, “You have to buy that for the kids.”
She takes her tea out of my hand, and I’m lost in her. Everything about her. I follow her lead as we continue to make our way through the rest of the store, thankful that she doesn’t skip a single aisle because I need all the time I can get with her.
***
“Michael here?” I ask Mel when I walk into the bar.
“Yeah,” she hollers over to me. “Upstairs.”
The place is busy tonight as I head up to Michael’s office. It’s been a good day, although dropping Candace off at her house to come up here was the last thing I wanted to do, but I need to sit down with Michael. He’s been dropping the ball on a few things, and shit needs to get back on track.
His door is open, so I go ahead and walk in.
Silk Page 42
