Breakaway

by Elise Faber

  She needed to deal or let them all go.

  And since she couldn’t let go of the little family she’d begun to call her own, her only option was to shut up and deal.

  Just not tonight.

  Tonight, she’d had enough. Her feet were screaming, and the dress that had been bordering on too tight at the beginning of the afternoon was now one slice of cake away from bursting at the seams.

  She bent to straighten a flower and felt the stitches all but groan in protest.

  So maybe less than a slice of cake away.

  But that was okay. Her job here was done. The cake in question—now repaired and a three-tier homage to nerdiness—had been sliced and distributed. Drinks were flowing, and the DJ was playing a nice selection of music. Young enough to be popular but still easy to dance to.

  No one would even notice if she slipped out.

  Plus, she had an essay due on Monday and really needed to—

  Make an excuse to GTFO.

  Whatever. The point was she’d been there long enough, so she was going home to her textbooks and laptop and bottle of rum punch, and no one would care. Nodding, she tucked her purse under one arm then went and retrieved her coat from the check stand. It was only once she’d made it into the parking lot that she realized the problem with leaving early.

  Because the venue had limited spaces and Stefan and Brit had picked her up.

  Le. Sigh.

  Über it was.

  Anna swiped at the screen of her cell, unlocking it and opening the app, but before she could finish the request, calloused fingers brushed the bare skin on her shoulder.

  “Can I give you a ride?”

  Blue. Because of course it was Blue.

  “No,” she said coldly. “I’m fine.”

  He came around to face her, crouching a bit so he could meet her eyes. “I always say the wrong thing when I’m around you.” A slight curve at the corner of his mouth. “You know how alcohol sometimes makes people lose their filter? Well, you’re my alcohol.”

  “Is your argument that I make you say stupid shit?” She sniffed. “Because case in point, I haven’t done anything to you, Blue.”

  “Yes, you have,” he said quietly, straightening and pulling out the key fob to his car and pressing a button. The lights on the sedan in front of them flashed. “But it’s not your fault. I’m the asshole here.”

  A snort was her only response.

  “Since we’re both in agreement with that, why don’t you let me give you a lift home? It’s the least I can do.”

  “No.” Anna pressed a button on her phone then felt obligated to add, “Thanks.”

  Silence.

  She glanced up, despite knowing that Blue was still standing in front of her, still watching her closely.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Chicken?”

  Her breath caught. He was so not—

  “Buck-buck-buuuck.”

  He was. The fucking bastard.

  She crossed her arms. “I’m not going home with you.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” He walked over to his car, tugged open the passenger side door. “I’m just offering you a ride . . . and maybe an explanation.”

  “I think you’ve said enough already.”

  “Please, Anna?”

  She didn’t move.

  “Please?” he asked again. “I promise to not say anything stupid.”

  She lifted a brow.

  “Okay”—he chuckled—“how about I promise to try and not say something stupid?”

  Chin dropping to her chest with a sigh, Anna considered her options. On the one hand, she never wanted to deal with him again. On the other, she’d just been psyching herself up because she knew she would most certainly have to interact with Blue on a—if not regular—then at least on a semi-regular basis.

  “You can call me names,” he cajoled. “I’ll even help you think of some really good ones.”

  Her laugh escaped despite best efforts.

  Too damned charming for his own good.

  “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “You can drive me home.”

  His smile took her breath away, and she didn’t get it back as he snagged her elbow and tucked her into the passenger seat of his car. It stayed gone as he reached over to snap in her seat belt and continued its vacation as he straightened a lock of her hair.

  Only the jolt of the car door slamming had her sucking in a deep lungful of air.

  But then he was right back next to her, belt clicking, door locks engaging, and . . . her mind lost track of anything except his spicy scent filling the space between them, the way his arm brushing hers sent a spark through her insides, reminding her all over again how good that night had been.

  He turned to face her fully, indigo eyes intense enough to have her lungs considering a second hiatus.

  “I am so sorry,” he said, words bursting out of him so quickly Anna had a hard time following at first. “I had this plan. One that was supposed to make my life finally feel full, but now I see how fucking stupid it was.” A shake of his head. “I just thought that if I followed the plan, if I found someone like my friends did, then I would be happy. Like they are. But I’m not them.”

  “Um, no?”

  He plunked his head onto his steering wheel. “I’m majorly fucking this up.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  His gaze shot to hers in surprise, a heartbeat passing before he realized she was teasing, and his smile matched the one she could feel curving her lips.

  “I didn’t mean those things I was saying as an insult.”

  “Blue.” She gave him a look. “They weren’t good.”

  His expression went a touch chagrined. “I—”

  “Just drive, okay?” she said. “Let’s pause this conversation before another one of those not-insults lands true.”

  He studied her for a long moment then sighed and nodded. He put the car into drive and backed from the spot. “I’m yours to direct.”

  Twelve

  Blue

  He waited until they were on the freeway before saying anything else.

  “Can I at least explain?”

  A sigh. “I thought we were doing away with any extraneous words.”

  “Well,” he said, amusement slicing through him at the terse words. “I just figured that since I’ve got you trapped, I might as well try to explain.”

  “Trapped?” She groaned and pretended to reach for the door handle. “Not if I tuck and roll.”

  “Hilarious,” he said, making sure the locks were engaged, but he was smiling because she was too damned funny for her own good. “Please avoid the tucking and rolling.”

  “If you insist.” But then her tone went serious. “Blue, I’m not a glutton for punishment, and I’m definitely not a punching bag anymore. However our night together ended, I still deserve to be treated with kindness and respect.”

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel, filing the word anymore away to ponder later, because that single insight into Anna’s past made him realize how little he knew about her, aside from the fact that she’d grown up in Minnesota and had taken care of Stefan’s mom and then Brayden.

  Not a punching bag. Anymore.

  Well, he’d done a damned good job of making her feel like one, huh?

  “Shit, sweetheart. I—” He sighed then just decided to level with her. “My parents didn’t want me.”

  She froze, glanced over at him.

  He felt it, even though he kept his eyes determinedly on the road.

  “I’m sure they—”

  He met her stare for one brief moment. “No,” he said. “They’d chosen to not have kids, and I was the unwelcome surprise.” A beat. “A direct quote, though one I don’t think I was supposed to actually hear.”

  His parents hadn’t been cruel, just unattached and minimally interested.

  His mom had been deployed multiple times during his childhood, and then when she’d retired from active duty, had spent
more months out of the country than in it for her civilian job.

  “I—uh—”

  “They were both in the military, and I messed that up. Or at least for my dad.” He signaled and pulled into the next lane. “My mom had the better assignment, so my dad retired when his discharge came up. The trouble was that he didn’t want to be a stay-at-home parent. He wanted to be in the military.”

  “They shouldn’t have had a kid then,” Anna said softly.

  “Agreed.” But he added, because it was another unfortunate truth he’d learned as a ten-year-old boy who’d accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation that he never should have heard, “That’s why my father had a vasectomy.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” A sigh as he exited the freeway at the off-ramp Anna indicated. “And apparently my mom was also on birth control to control irregular periods. Barf.”

  Her eyes were soft. “Seriously.”

  “Apparently, I was determined to be born.”

  The barest smile at his wry words. “That determination is probably why you’re such a good hockey player.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’m good at hockey because it was the only thing my dad took interest in.”

  Her breath caught, silence reigning over the car.

  “Fuck, Blue,” she said. “You had to pull out the big guns, didn’t you?”

  Amusement swelled, bubbling over as he burst out laughing over something that had never been funny before. It still wasn’t, he supposed, but somehow that simple teasing from Anna had made him feel lighter.

  “I just want you to understand where I was coming from. My entire childhood was me making plans and contingencies, trying to find a way for my parents to love me. If I only got straight A’s or made a certain team or was independent enough so they didn’t have to bother with me, then maybe . . .”

  “Things would change?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “They didn’t, of course, and eventually I came to realize that the one person I could count on was me. I never planned on being in a relationship with anyone.”

  “Hence the string of women through your bedroom?”

  He nodded. “Easier to feel good without getting attached,” he said. “But the truth was that while it was really exciting at first, that lack of connection got old fast, especially when I saw the guys and Brit finding someone they could be really happy with, and I—fuck this makes me sound like the biggest pussy on the planet—but I wanted to be like them.”

  “Turn here,” she said, pointing up at the next street. “And what’s that old saying? Pussy is the toughest thing around because it takes a pounding?” She smirked when he snorted. “My point is that it’s not weak to want to be loved.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, you decided to hang up your bachelor shoes?”

  “Something like that.”

  “It’s hard to look at them all sickeningly happy and not want that.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Fuckers.”

  Blue’s heart squeezed at her light tone. “Every one of them.”

  She snorted. “Here’s my building.” He found an empty spot and pulled to the curb, waiting as she gathered up her purse and coat. “I’m guessing,” she said as she paused, fingers on the handle. “That I’m not the type of woman you’d planned on.”

  “No,” he agreed.

  A shadow in her expression before she forced a smile that made his teeth ache it was so sugary and fake. “Well, at least you’re off the hook for that date now.”

  “You’re not the type of woman I ever pictured myself with—”

  “Oh, please stop showering me with flowery, affectionate words.” Both hands came up, palms out. “I get it. I’ll leave you to your perfect, sweet future girlfriend.”

  Leaning over the console, fingers on her arm, movement before Blue consciously thought about it.

  “No,” he repeated. “You’re not the type of woman I imagined I would be with.”

  She shrugged him off. “Yeah. Got that.”

  “Anna.” He cupped her cheek. “You’re so much more.”

  Her response was shaky, a slow movement that had his palm sliding off her face. “You don’t even know me.” She popped the door handle.

  “I’d like to,” he said softly, trying not to scare her off, not when he finally understood all the twisted feelings inside his heart. No, Anna hadn’t been in his plan. No, she wasn’t what he’d expected. But maybe . . . maybe she was better.

  She shook her head, almost violently, and pushed open the door. “I-I can’t.”

  He shoved open his own door, rounding the front of his car. “Wait. Anna.”

  He grabbed her arm, stopping her when she would have bolted away.

  Her expression sliced him to the quick—hurt and fear. No, not merely fear. It was terror. He’d terrified her.

  “I can’t, Blue. I-I just can’t do this.”

  “I understand.” He squeezed her arm gently then stepped back, releasing her. “You don’t have to, sweetheart.”

  “Of course, I don’t,” she said, steady now as she lifted her chin and fiddled with the strap of her purse.

  “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he blurted. “But I’m also really sorry that someone else did, too.”

  Another one of those almost violent movements, this time a nod. But she didn’t say anything else as she turned toward her building.

  “Bye, Anna,” he murmured.

  “Goodbye, Blue.”

  Then she was gone.

  And his heart ached at the very thought.

  Thirteen

  Anna

  The text came two days later.

  So, I know I blew my chance and I promised not to bug you, but this made me think of you.

  A second buzz followed a heartbeat after, and she smiled at the picture of a shirt emblazoned with, “You don’t scare me. I successfully negotiate with kids for a living.”

  Aw.

  Blue had left her alone, well for two days at least, but just because he hadn’t been there in body didn’t mean he was out of her thoughts. If she were being truthful, she would have said that she’d thought of little else aside from Blue and what he’d told her over the last forty-eight hours.

  So much clarity.

  So much sympathy.

  And yet, did any of it really make a lick of difference?

  “No,” she said, pushing the textbook on child development to the side and flopping onto her back on her couch. “Yes.”

  Because she got it.

  She understood what it was like to feel unwanted and that defense mechanisms often came along with a childhood like hers or Blue’s. She also knew what it was like to weigh the decision to let someone in very carefully, after having been burned and hurt over and over again.

  But—and it was a big but—did knowing why he’d reacted the way he did make any bit of difference?

  Because in the end, it was her heart and emotional well-being on the line.

  And yet, did all of the protecting of her heart and her emotions and herself above all else change anything?

  No, because she could think of nothing but Blue.

  Blue focused on her that night.

  Blue’s words that had stung so readily.

  Blue in the car, earnest and open.

  “Fuck,” she muttered and just gave in.

  Where are you?

  A few seconds before:

  The pier. Getting my sea lion fix.

  A video of the sea lions that lived behind the pier appeared on her cell and had her in hysterics as she watched them bark and jostle for position while one very determined pup vied for position at the top of the pile.

  Another buzz, another message from Blue.

  Where are you?

  As she hesitated, debating a response, her phone vibrated again.

  Never mind. I promised to leave you alone and now I’m pestering you again. I’m sorry.

  Anna’s fingertips tapped
the side of her cell, still unsure, still going around that mental merry-go-round.

  I love the pier.

  Four words and yet the way her heart pounded after sending them, the shuddering breath she released after pressing that blue and white button, and you would have thought she’d just submitted a four-hundred-page novel that had been her life’s work.

  What’s your favorite part?

  Her shoulders relaxed.

  There’s this crab shop at Pier 41, slightly off the tourist trap, but they have the best clam chowder in the world.

  His response made them hunch right back up.

  Want to come and have some with me?

  She bit her lip, mostly scared because she wanted to do exactly that. She wanted to hang out on the pier and have dessert first, maybe some ice cream, maybe some fudge, and then she wanted to go have a giant sourdough bread bowl filled with clam chowder. It made no sense—not the food part because yum—but why she would want to put herself out there with him after being burned. And yet, Anna couldn’t deny that she’d felt drawn to Blue from the moment he’d tried to pick her up outside the arena.

  The memory made her smile, propelled her fingers into motion.

  Will you use another horrible pick up line on me if I do?

  A buzz.

  Are you French?

  She frowned.

  Um. No.

  His response made her chuckle.

  Because Eiffel for you.

  Oh my God. That’s awful.

  There’s more where that came from.

  She shook her head, blew out a breath, and sent:

  You buy me cookie-dough fudge and I’ll get the clam chowder.

  Blue’s response came in just a second.

  You have yourself a deal. Thirty minutes give you enough time?