Fire Heart (Broken Bottle Series Book 2)

by Taeuffer, Pamela

  “Yes, sweetness?”

  “You can throw a pebble at my window no matter how late it is. I already miss your chest; you have a lot of merit badges on that thing and I want to look at all of them.”

  “I can’t wait for you to explore me.” His husky laugh followed. "I'm an Eagle Scout so you'll need to spend a lot of time on my body. See you tomorrow, baby."

  After I hung up, my emotions poured out. They were shocking, unexpected, dramatic, sudden, and not the mountain-high joy I’d just felt with him.

  These were the exact opposite.

  Big sobs racked my body.

  Typical of the way my feelings came to the surface when I let go, they exploded in pain and were gut wrenching. I'd held some of them inside for years, carefully guarding the ones I was most afraid of, making sure no one got close to my locked rooms.

  I realized I'd lost possible relationships—of all kinds—because of my fears. The fences I’d built to guard and protect me had previously helped to keep stability in my life. I kept the high peaks of joy and low valleys of anger away from me so I wouldn't face the kinds of upsets I'd experienced as a child.

  Now, a good man loved me.

  He'd reached out.

  Exposed his heart.

  Shown his vulnerability.

  Was he ready to take me just as I was—weak, strong, good, bad, flawed and brilliant? It seemed so, and just that in itself was emotional. Incredible relief, but also confusion and fear, tangled inside my mind.

  I knew I was on the edge of something.

  Even as I saw myself entering another life, I felt my feet dig in and resist. Why? What were those feelings telling me?

  Was it that I looked forward to moving on, and yet mourned the loss of sweet innocence and the finality of childhood?

  For perhaps the first time in my life, I felt a little flame of desire light in my heart. I wanted to let go and burst into fire. The dream of love taking me into the embrace of a new life and all of its vulnerability seemed a reality. Could I finally stop living to survive and instead welcome the chance for joy and the promise of an intimate relationship?

  I gave myself time to experience the deep emotions that had just surfaced. When I was ready, I drained the bath water, and still wrapped in a towel, I knocked on Jenise’s bedroom door.

  “Come in!”

  “Sorry to bother you again. I need to go shopping today and was wondering if you'd go with me. Please, please, please?”

  “Nice evening with Ryan?” Jenise smirked.

  “Oh, yeah.” I clasped my hands as if trying to hold his light inside them. “Really nice! He’s wonderful.”

  “Look at you, Sis—you’re floating.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to be with him. I miss him so much.” I plopped on her bed, and we bounced up and down. "Twenty-four hours is too long to wait . . . I feel sick." I told her about my date. When I was finished with my story, she had starry eyes of her own.

  “Man, he sounds like he’s really into you.” Her smile was gorgeous and genuine.

  “Do you think he's . . . well, just infatuated?” I offered. “Men get confused that way, don’t they?”

  “Are you telling me a twenty-five-year-old man," Jenise laughed sarcastically. "A man who’s had all the pussy he wanted, probably fulfilled every sexual fantasy he’s ever thought about—someone like him doesn’t know the difference?”

  “Oh, that's . . . yuck. When you put it like that—gross.” I crinkled my nose and shook my head.

  “I’m not saying he’s had all that, but uh, pretty damn sure he has. You said yourself he's constantly surrounded by women. That probably means he’s been with a fair number. It’s not a big deal; I’m just saying he knows the difference.”

  “You’re right. They all want him. When we were at the hotel lounge before we went to see his brother last night, an exotic dancer he knows came to our table."

  "Wow! How do you know she was a dancer?"

  "She invited him to see her new routine. Guess what her name is? Tabitha Sable. Can you believe it?"

  "Ballsy lady."

  "Yeah, and then another female fan tried to talk with him—all kinds of women were staring at him.”

  “He's striking! Why wouldn't they?" She knelt on the bed with her arms crossed. "And you?”

  “What do you mean, and me? Of course I looked at him.”

  “No.” She laughed. “I mean do you know the difference between love and infatuation?”

  “Yes."

  "How?" she challenged.

  "I’m infatuated with Jerry. The way I feel about Ryan is much different.”

  “And?”

  “I love him. I’m afraid to say the words. God, I do love him. I hope everything doesn't change if I say it. Our date was magnificent, Jenise. I mean really special. It's just . . . I’m not ready for any earthquakes. I don't want any more of those.”

  “Why?" She raised her arms with such force she jiggled the bed. "Shout the words! An earthquake could be what saves you!”

  “Saves me from what?” I was on edge and wanted her to get to the point. “I just want peace and quiet until I get out of here. Don’t you want that?”

  “Fuck no. Peace and quiet is for chicken shits. Rebel! Be different! Dare to challenge yourself! All your rigid and high-minded morality . . . Sis, no black angel is going to come down and take you to hell if you have sex. Give into your feelings.”

  “But if I do, I mean, do you think someone like him would really support my dreams? He’ll expect me to change and give up the things I want as soon as I do it, won't he?”

  “I can’t see that,” Jenise said. “I’ll bet he could’ve had dozens of women who’d be willing to drop everything for him, but if he doesn't encourage you to reach for your goals? You move on.”

  “Yeah, that sounds easy enough, but what if I'm in too deep? And the other thing is, we’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks. Can I really believe what I’m feeling? How can I really know? Don't you think it's too soon?”

  “The hell with that.” Jenise was fierce and determined. “No, it's not too soon." She put her finger on my chest. "What do you feel? What’s inside there?”

  “Last night, I came close. I wanted to tell him I loved him. All I could say was I have strong feelings for him.” I held her upper arm. “But I've never dated like this and I don’t have any other experiences. I mean, it’s the first real relationship I’ve had and I’m already in love? Maybe it’s only a crush.”

  “Oh, shit, Nicky, you go on and on, circling the same question. Honestly, tell me," Jenise repeated. "What do you feel?”

  My voice broke.

  Tears poured.

  "I really love him.”

  She held me in her arms. It felt so good to be wrapped inside them after so many years of my self-imposed distance from people—and not too long ago, from her.

  “I know you do. Get out of your head." She patted my back and repeated, "I know you do. I know.”

  “I feel like I’m sinking.” I raised my head and we gradually let go of our sweet embrace. “Sometimes I feel like it’s all bright and rosy, and then suddenly I can’t see the bottom of some forbidden, endless and dark hole that surrounds me.”

  “Nicky, look at me and listen carefully.” She took my hands in hers. “I am a rape survivor.”

  “I know.”

  “I am a rape survivor,” she repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you think I made it?” Jenise's hands were turned, her palms up as if opening herself to me, being vulnerable.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.” Her eyes were penetrating. “How do you survive? How have we survived our home life?”

  “We focus on other things.”

  “Right,” she agreed. “And how did I do that, knowing those boys might still be around and could’ve come back to attack me?”

  “I don’t know how you did it.” I put my head down.

  “By keeping my head
up and letting people help me. Do not put your head down, Nicky. You can’t stay closed off. Staying frozen and afraid won't get you anywhere. Take one little step. Reach for what you want, not what you think Mom and Dad wants. Otherwise? You’ll never really come to life.”

  I looked up.

  Lifted my chin.

  Watched her.

  “Don’t you ever hide; you're unique,” Jenise admonished. "You're wonderful. You're my beautiful and brilliant sister. Ryan would be lucky to have you, not the other way around."

  “I won’t hide.” A light bulb went on.

  “When you decide about Ryan, forget about what anyone thinks except for you and him. He’s obviously putting his heart out there for you to grab. If you want him, screw everyone else. Our parents had their chance and they fucked it up. It’s up to them to make their marriage work and live their lives. Don’t let them make you afraid and fuck you up, too, Nicky. You said you felt something even last year, when he first approached you, right?”

  “When he kissed my hand.”

  “Yeah, you’ve told me several times," her knowing grin lit up her face. "So, the feelings you have, they’re from much earlier than just a few recent weeks together. He knows what a good person you are. All the things he’s done to get your attention—volunteering with you, the Goliaths’ party, roses on prom night—I’d say he’s been looking at you for a while.”

  “True.”

  “So let's see . . . he’s seen the inside of you, but has he felt the inside of you?” Her eyebrows rose.

  “Oh, God, Jenise.”

  Just then my cell phone beeped.

  "Hold on!" I ran into my room, anxious to see if Ryan sent me a little sweetness. I brought my phone into Jenise's room.

  Ryan texted: Still soaking in the bathtub?

  "What's with the smile?" Jenise coaxed.

  "He's hard to resist," I smiled. "I have to respond." I texted back: Have a towel wrapped around me and nothing else. "Ha! That'll teach him. Look what I wrote." I showed Jenise.

  Another beep: If only you'd showered with me.

  I returned: If we'd done that I'd still have bathed.

  Ryan texted: Nasty, Nicky.

  I laughed out loud.

  "Sexting?" Her eyebrows rose, reminding me of how Ryan’s face brightened when he was up to no good. I felt full at the thought of the two of them being friends.

  “Look at you, you’re bursting with happiness.”

  "That's not only because of Ryan," I shared. "My big sister has something to do with it."

  “Quit putting limitations on your relationship before you’ve even begun to explore what you have." She took my hands in hers. "What I can picture for you is happiness. I've often wondered if you’ve really included it in your plans. You’ve visualized everything so you can get out of the house and go to college with your predefined picture of how your life is supposed to be. That's fine, but when it comes to love, do you think something magical happens when you suddenly decide you’re ready? Mr. Charming is going to show up right on schedule?”

  “No, I don't think that.”

  "No?"

  "No!"

  "You sure act like everything will play out like a romance novel. Come on. You think you have that much say so over love and relationships?"

  “But I’m not looking for—”

  “Well?” she probed. “Do magical dreams fill that smart head of yours? Snap your fingers, twitch your nose, wave a magic wand, and when you're ready, a sexy man comes along for you?”

  I waited in silence for her to continue, while considering what she'd just pointed out . . . was exactly how I saw my life.

  “I’m afraid you’ll look back and regret how you pushed someone aside who could have been the love of your life . . . or at least, a special memory. The feelings you have don’t come around all that often. You tend to throw happiness away with both hands. It’s as if you don’t think you’re worthy.”

  “I’m so afraid he’ll leave me after I open up to him,” I said quietly as if someone else was in the room eavesdropping. “Once he sees my insecurities, I’m scared he’ll run for the hills.”

  “This is your life, Nick. If he leaves you, then he does. You gamble, take a risk, and you move on. Yeah, it will hurt, but that’s life and that's taking a chance on love. You learn from your mistakes. Maybe you chose to risk yourself a little differently next time, but you don’t close down. And what if he takes off? You said yourself you really don’t want to be serious.”

  “I know I said that, but now I don’t want him to go.”

  “I could be wrong, but . . . crap, this is hard to say.” She looked out her window and then looked back at me. “You can stop taking care of Dad.”

  “What? I’m not—” I started to defend myself.

  “Let me finish. You don’t need to be Dad’s good girl, or any kind of example to your friends. Ryan doesn’t need to be taken care of like that. For once, let someone take your hand. You’re not a nun, for fuck’s sake.”

  I was sure that if I held onto my emotions, there was a chance to end the screaming, hitting, and abuse.

  I thought if I could keep my father close, I could take his danger away from Mom and Jenise. It was the only way I knew how to help them.

  He didn't hit me like he did them.

  He wasn't violent with me like he was with them.

  Except for his verbal insults and rage.

  Except for holding his belt in the air, threatening to strike me.

  I remained passive with my father, knowing that challenging him would pull his trigger.

  And that passivity caused him to drive me home from the bar after he'd gotten drunk.

  It meant listening to his drunken stories for hours while the only thing I wanted to do was sleep.

  Staying passive and putting him to bed got him out of my mother's and sister's life—for the night.

  My passivity allowed me to slip in and out of our family's dysfunction, because I didn't speak up.

  I was hardly noticed because I wanted it that way.

  The only places I wanted to be noticed were at school and where I volunteered.

  Those times needed to be over.

  I could no longer trade temporary peace for staying quiet.

  It was time to make a stand.

  “We were expected to be tough girls,” Jenise continued. “How many times were we left on our own, even when Mom and Dad were home? I took the physical bullshit of Dad’s drunkenness, but you had to watch his lifeless face as he sat on your bed, sought your company, and gave you those gross, stinking hugs.

  "Do you think I’ve forgotten the nights when Mom was late and you tucked him into bed? I haven't. She stayed away on purpose because she knew you'd take care of him. That wasn't right. But we took it because we had no choice. Now we do. Ryan isn’t Dad. Ryan isn't one of your friends who depend on you to tell them it's okay. They know you'll do whatever they want and take them where they need to go because you're always there for them.

  "That's the way you think you retain their friendships—by making it easy for them," she continued. "Well this life needs to be about you, Nick. And the man that loves you wants you as you are. Stop trying to be the perfect friend, daughter, and now girlfriend. It's time to relax and show yourself as an individual. If he doesn't take you as is? He's not worth it.”

  "God, I'm so sappy lately." I looked at the bedcovers and tears spilled down my cheeks.

  I had to joke away my struggle.

  It was our way.

  It was what I knew.

  “Let go and enjoy the exploration of each other,” she encouraged. “Check him out and let him check you out. See if you get along before you start worrying about commitment and other women. Both of you might decide it's not right after all, and you'll be friends. On the other hand, it could all fall into place.”

  “Yeah. It’s more than that, Jenise.”

  “What is it?”

  “Dad’s in danger of losing
his job. He’s on strict probation at work. I’m afraid he’s going to be fired.”

  “What?” she shouted.

  “I spoke with his supervisor. Remind me to tell you about that meeting. Ryan knows him. That’s how I got the appointment. His name is Sid Freeman and he told me Dad is on level three. It’s bad. I’m afraid I’m going to lose Stanford, but I don’t know how to bring it up. Do you think Mom knows?”

  “We need to talk to Mom and Dad,” she was obviously concerned. “It’s not only you; it affects me, too.”

  “I know, but please keep quiet for now.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Ryan’s trying to help,” I shared.

  “How?”

  “He asked a guy he knows in the union to start filing disability papers,” I told her. “If it goes through, Dad can go out on paid leave and won’t be in danger of being terminated. Most importantly, his retirement will be safe.”

  “Your Ryan is doing this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you’re having doubts about someone like that?”

  “I don't doubt his generosity. Honestly? I'm afraid if I give in, we’ll be so right there may be no turning back. I have a feeling I’ll be in so deep I’ll drown.”

  “I’d love to witness you drowning in love. Then you can be the one to do exotic dances for him in private!" she giggled. "Your name can be Nicolette Faire."

  We both cracked up.

  "So, when do you want to go shopping?”

  Chapter 27

  Do You Think We’re Weird?

  Once again, the tears filled my eyes.

  “God, I'm a blubbering mess. I start to cry at the mere thought of something sentimental.”

  “You’re in love.” Jenise put her hand on mine. “The emotions have only just begun.”

  "Oh, great news." I appreciated how she took the time to share her wisdom and was completely open with her opinions. I gathered myself and made sure to compliment my wise sister. “Damn, you’re smart. When did that happen?”

  “You haven’t been around a lot to notice. You’re different yourself these days. I think . . .” She trailed off, but taunted me with a knowing look.

  “What?”

  “I think it’s because of Ryan.”