by Leigh Lennon
“Anyway, Liz, I’m here for a couple of reasons. I owe you an apology.” Iz pivots his body between me and the vast majority of the room and I’m left caged to the small area of the entranceway. Iz draws in a deep breath, like he did when he’d been in training and would sprint. I hold my own breath because knowing Iz and his mannerisms, this is sure to be some huge declaration.
I grasp onto the wall as my body hums at his presence in my room and from this out-of-character apology. His lips turn up and those bright whites of his I find as attractive as most of his body now sends shivers up my spine. “Has hell frozen over?” I ask, attempting with the snarky tone of my voice to build a much-needed wall between us, or I’ll wilt like a dainty flower in this California heat.
A deep, low belly chuckle accompanies that shit-eating grin of his. “No, I just got my ass handed to me by the southern belle.”
That was his nickname for Candace all those years ago and I’m not sure what this means. She’s with Langston right now. How’d she end up tearing a piece out of Iz? More so, my heart beats frantically at what she possibly told him. “How?” I ask.
“Not only was it Candace but also the woman who brought me into this world, and if you’re not at the dinner table with us come suppertime, she very well may take me out of this world.” A wet bar is stored in a small alcove behind me and my stare tells him all he needs to know as he helps himself to a Coke. “I think I can handle paying for your mini bar.” Yes, Iz still knows how I think.
With the mention of his mother, my heart aches. Isadora Laita was one reason, besides the obvious, I grieved the loss of Iz from my life. Not only did I lose Iz, I lost his family, but I always assumed they hated me for allowing race to be the deciding factor in our demise.
“Langston brought Candy for dinner and one look at her, Mama thought she was looking at you from sixteen years ago, except for the eyes.” We get that all the time. I have violet eyes, just like Mama, but Candace got her aqua beauties from her father.
Taking his hand and scratching the back of his head, he continues, never breaking contact with me as he guzzles his Coke. I look away finally. His gaze is setting my whole existence on fire. “So, Candy was quite informative, Liz.” Though I’m not looking, I hear the change in the air when he breaks the distance between us. He’s in front of me, licking his lips like he’s ready to devour me, having set his empty soda can in the garbage. Tipping my head back, he asks, “Liz, why didn’t you tell me it was Candy he’d used against you all those years ago? I got it, the second I met you, how important that little girl was to you. Your sister that you always felt needed protection from your stepmother.” Iz has it wrong. That stepmother he mentions is more than just the woman that came into our lives when my mama’s grave was barely covered with dirt. She brought in an evil that I’d could never quite capture for those not in the house to understand.
I flinch as though he has slapped me with his words. I don’t blink and somewhere between the pleasant hum of his body still stirs the desire within me to smack him. I roar and see the shock in Iz’s eyes at the tone of my voice. “I asked you to trust me, Iz, and you didn’t!” The impact of what I’ve said finally settles in his orbs and I see the apology in his deep irises without even needing to say the words.
Placing his one hand against my waist, just enough where he slips it around the side above my ass, he attempts to bring me closer. He has the strength and can force it, but he doesn’t and I stand firm. “I was wrong. I was too proud and since race has been an issue I’ve dealt with my whole life, I lumped you in that pile of people that had made the color of my skin an issue.”
There’s an automatic way he can bring a smile to my face. His own smirk pulls at me. I close my eyes to summon common sense into my sexual frustrations. If I continue to stare at this man, I may melt into him, never coming up for air. After all, this is my Iz from years ago. “You have always been a stubborn man. Back to Candace. What did she say?” It’s California so it’s warm even for February, but the sweat pooling at my armpits and hands has nothing to do with the warmth outside. It’s all due to the heat this man still elicits within me.
He continues to study me with eye-splitting scrutiny. The silence is broken by a deep, hearty chuckle as I notice his dimples, the craters that are still sexy as fuck. “She told me I never knew you if I thought you could let me go so easily. She further explained your father most likely used her to do his bidding. Then she mentioned something about the step-witch.”
He still remembers after all these years what I call her. “She’s a witch and the bitch you probably remember.”
His body is the closest it’s been since coming back into my life. I smell him and in sixteen years, it hasn’t changed. When I first met him, I learned he loved this musky type of patchouli and it’s still present at the nape of his neck. Taking his hand, he glides it up my arm as goose bumps appear with his mere touch. “Why didn’t you tell me you were married?” My jaw falls; I’m surprised it doesn’t hit the floor.
Fucking Candace, I’ll kill her. Taking in a deep cleansing breath, his eyes don’t leave me, as if his gaze will pull the truth from me. There’s no way in this world I want to say the name of the man I married, all because my father wanted to see how far I’d jump.
“Iz, I can’t—so don’t ask.” I turn away but with his hands on me already, he grabs me too quickly, bringing me back.
“C’mon, Buttercup, I’m sorry. I should have known you wouldn’t have given up on us that easily.”
Pulling away from him quicker than I expect, I give myself the space I need to think. He can’t come in after fifteen years and think that I can forget all the pain from his distrust in me; in us.
“Iz, what do you want? Okay, you’re sorry. That’s fucking great! Thanks for finally seeing what I’ve been trying to tell you for years. So, what do you really want from me?”
His smile is still present on his face and it’s driving me crazy. I find my voice again, a little louder than it had been. “What the fuck are you smiling about?”
This time, he starts to laugh hysterically and I can sense my cheeks reddening in anger. “Liz, I’m sorry. It was your question, what I want from you? That’s loaded. Hell, Liz, you’re still my one and only. Don’t you see it? I want so much right now, I can’t even put it in words. But this minute, you can get me out of the doghouse with my mama and come and have dinner with us.”
My body is still clammy and sticky from the heat he has brought into this room but I can’t trust myself near him. I walk toward my shoes and slip them on my feet, then grab my purse, and head to the door. Looking behind him, I say, “I can’t help you with anything else except getting you out of the doghouse with your mama, Iz.” He’s as still as he’s been since arriving. “So, are you coming?” He closes the distance between us again and grabs my hand.
“By the way, Buttercup, I don’t believe you for a second that you’re not willing to help me with anything else. I know you and I know how your body responds.” These words whispered at the back of my neck make him singlehandedly responsible for the need to change my underwear. The cocky bastard.
Sixteen years earlier
I’m reading, or should I say I’m attempting to read, but all I can sense are the eyes of the man who has captivated me for the first time since a hurt so deep fell in my life. Looking up, I try to keep my lips flat, so he can’t see how much his stares affect me, but I can’t. With my smile, his lips curl, too. For someone I’ve barely touched yet, his grin makes the insides of my nether regions want more. Oh, he wants it—wants me, that’s for sure, but the man has been patient with me since my apprehension is as present to him as his attraction is to me.
“Iz, I can’t think when you’re not studying.” He winks my way and my stomach clenches. Sure, I’m not a virgin but hell, his whole body makes me need to cross my legs from the near orgasm his smile evokes within me.
The muscles in his hands twitch but he holds back. I’ve seen this a l
ot in him and his self-control of taking my hand. He hasn’t really even said much to me about it except every night before he leaves. I simply say goodbye and his reply is, “You’re killing me, Buttercup.”
Saturday is a home game and he’s asked me to come and sit with his parents. I’m not sure what I want from him. Well, that’s not true, I know what I want, as I know what he wants from me, but I can’t. The last time I gave in, my heart almost never recovered.
“I’m just looking at you, Liz.” His eyes return to the page and now it’s my turn to stare his way. He catches me and this obviously pleases him with the cocky grin he gives, and I can only return the smile. “By the way, Buttercup, what’s the verdict about the game on Saturday? It’s one of the few my parents can come to and I would love for you to meet them.”
“Iz, I’m not sure. I mean, meeting the folks is a big step and we’re just friends.”
His large body pops up from behind my small little desk we’re sharing. “C’mon, girl, I may not have kissed you, hell, I haven’t even held your hand yet, but I think we both know we’re more than just friends.”
I’m not sure how to respond, but he’s spot on.
13
Israel
The eeriness of the silence consumes my Jeep. It’s too quiet; so fucking quiet you could hear a church mouse. The only constant is Liz’s face buried in that fucking phone of hers. Very few things can bring me more joy right now than reaching over and tossing it out the open window. I do well, however, to remind myself of the temper this woman possesses. If I want to bring out the bride of Chucky, then I know how to push her buttons, too well. I’m already in the doghouse with Mama. Plus, Mama’s had a couple of hours with Candy so who knows what those two are plotting.
“Buttercup, is there any way you can put down that damn phone?” Her cheeks flush, it has always been so easy to make her redden. With the window cracked open, the pleasant slight smell of Liz’s perfume, still lavender, wafts around my senses, creating memories that awaken my cock that she’d already aroused earlier.
Liz leans forward, plopping her phone in her purse near her feet, then sits back straight, lips pursed, and her eyes bearing in on my skin. Those eyes, besides being unique and gorgeous, are my kryptonite. I’m Superman against them, but with me it’s just one of my many weaknesses when it comes to the blonde bombshell sitting next to me.
“What exactly would you prefer to talk about, Israel?” Her reply is curt. This is the Liz that will be roasting me over the open flames with my mama. Plus, she called me Israel. This has always been my telltale sign that I’ve fucked up, which there’s no denying I have.
“First off, don’t call me Israel, it makes me feel like you’re scolding me.” The timbre of my tone reflects all the emotions of seeing Liz after all these years. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. After hearing the entire story from Candy, how did I miss this? There’d been no doubt in my mind this had been a simple matter of race and money.
The minute my body claimed Liz Declan, I set out to study her, wanting to ace this test more than any other I’d taken in my life. Knowing her deeply and what made her tick was everything I concentrated on. Even football, which had been at one point my first love, no longer held the appeal when Liz blew into my life.
She made me work for her, too, not letting me touch her for the longest time. She’d shared that another man used her for her money and left her brokenhearted. It had been in that one declaration I understood Liz trusted me. When I finally got the whole picture of Liz, the most abstract piece of art I’d ever laid my eyes on, her beauty and character made sense in the split second of her confession. With the disclosure, she was trusting me and I swore to protect her.
The passion of love she carries in her heart for Candace was one thing I’d always admired about Liz. My own daughter enters my mind.
Liz remains quiet, her fingers drumming on the door underneath the passenger side window. She’s still in her business suit, though she’s shed her jacket, exposing bare arms her camisole isn’t covering. The right side of her profile is all that’s visible with her perfect button nose. She’s not looking at me when I hear her voice. “What should I call you, Israel? It’s your name, right?” Her tone now is a mix of the playful Liz I know along with her feistiness she certainly owns, naturally all by herself.
“You only ever called me Israel when you were upset with me,” I say. Though this gives her an opening to continue the conversation, it’s my hope it will eventually end in us talking about how we can build from here. Now with Liz next to me, I’m not sure how I had survived the years we were apart.
“You know, Israel,” she starts and now she’s baiting me, as each syllable of my name is punctuated sharply, “sure, I needed time and understanding, but my daddy was always a prick.”
My heart beats sporadically and I can’t formulate words, not the proper ones, to convey what this little olive branch she’s extending my way means to me. Could this be a beginning to forgiveness on Liz’s part? I somehow choke out, “C’mon, you asked me to trust you and I didn’t, but I should have. Can you explain to me, though, how your dad had that sort of pull on you?”
I look over and the smile on her face is now turned downward as a tear falls from one eye. “Candace was so young when our mom died. Within three months he married the step-witch and when I came home that summer, when you came with me, I could see the influence she’d already had on Candace. Daddy told me that if I broke up with you and attended Harvard, which was his first choice for me, I could take Candace with me. He’d provide a live-in nanny while I was in class. Candace and I have this connection and relationship that’s not that of normal siblings. I raised her for the six years we were in the Boston area and thought I’d laid the groundwork for Candace. I reluctantly didn’t have the fight in me to go against Daddy when I moved home. He wanted me to live close to him and I defied him, not taking the house he offered me. Plus our stepmother had this hold on her.”
“I get a love like that. When they placed Nev in my arms, my world was transformed.” After I mention Nev, Liz says nothing more. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her wiping the tears, and I know her well enough to know that she’s playing out those painful years in her head. My hand reaches for her but she’s watching me from her peripheral, too. She moves it out of my reach. Though I want to offer her my physical touch, Liz has shared a little of herself with me. I’m the fucking douche for doubting her all those years ago.
Pulling onto the road that leads to Mama’s house, I want to see everything through Liz’s eyes. Though she came from money, I’m not sure it’s anything close to what I made from the NFL, endorsements, and investments in the ten years I was in the league. Money was always an issue for me growing up, along with Mama and Papa. We had very little. The ink was barely dry on my contract when I moved them to San Francisco. Mama almost fainted when I brought her to this lot of land and told her to build anything her heart desired, and she did.
“Iz, this is your parents’ house?” She stumbles over her words. This time, I see her extending a hand my way and the warmth of her skin on my own helps to bridge the gap I’ve created. “Ah, shit, Iz, I’m sorry.” Rubbing her hand up my arm, she continues, “I’m really sorry about your dad.” I guess it’s no surprise she knows, my personal life has always been of public scrutiny from the beginning. It was all further twisted into a major story with the injury sidelining me, my divorce, and the death of my dad within three months of one another. Though the media never caught onto Kendra’s infidelity, thank fuck for Nev’s sake, much speculation was made.
Pulling in beside Lang’s car and putting the Jeep in park, I turn my body toward Liz. “Thanks, Buttercup.” With her nickname, her straight lips cock into a small smile. “I won’t lie, it was hard.” Though Liz can physically understand the pain of losing a parent, I see the same vacancy her mother left in her life. Probably not her father, and I can’t have sympathy for that prick; not now with having a better pic
ture painted for me.
In her own pain, she lets another tear fall and as though it’s second nature, my fingers reach up to stop its descent and our eyes lock. “Buttercup…” I have so many different things forming on my tongue, ready to share with her when she waves her other hand at me, reaffirming she already knows.
“Iz, no, I can’t right now.” She looks away and I want to take my free arm and bring her gaze back to me. Those imperial violet eyes will always be my sanctuary and hope that somewhere in her, she can forgive me.
“I’m telling you, it’s something we’ll address and fuckin’ soon.” However, before I can demand anymore, my daughter is at my door knocking. In her own eyes, I see she notices I’m holding tight onto Liz’s hand. Liz is startled by her and yanks away from me. I already instantly miss the way her hand moves against my skin.
Rolling down the window, Nevaeh starts in on me. “Daddy, you didn’t say goodbye.”
My daughter’s face is so innocent and full of wonder; everything I treasure in her. Though I was the selfish SOB that let Liz go years ago, in her smile, I’m thankful I did. Only in Nevaeh do I see that something in my life is right.
“I know, honey, your grandmamma is upset with me. See, Liz and I used to be good friends and your grandmamma wanted to see her. You know how she is when she gets her mind made up.”
Nev nods her head in agreement but then in the unfiltered mouth she has gotten from her own mother, she blurts out, “Is that why you were holding her hand, since you two used to be good friends?”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Kendra is standing where my daughter is and I hear Liz next to me stifling a laugh. Before I can get out of the door, my mama is bounding down the drive and around to the passenger side. Liz barely climbs out of the Jeep when my mama envelops her into a deep embrace.
