“The bar owner doesn’t feel the same way,” he adds.
Remembering the broken tables and chairs, shattered beer mugs, and the security guard writhing in pain after Teller hit him with a barstool, I understand why the bar owner feels differently.
I’ve spent the entire weekend drowning in guilt over what happened. My brother lost his job, Maby’s depression was triggered, and Teller spent the weekend in jail pending a battery charge. I’ve never been so ashamed of my behavior in my life, but it’s how everyone was affected that kills.
Theodore’s clear disappointment turns the vise in my chest, constricting my heart between metal jaws. The slow beat makes breathing hard, and I don’t want to cry in front of him, but this all-time low is unpredictable at best.
At least he looks at me. It’s more than Emerson’s willing to do.
“I’m so sorry—”
The massive door behind Mr. Reddy suddenly opens, and I nearly fall to my knees at the sight of Teller. Bruised, busted, and scraped, nothing in his expression gives away any indication on his frame of mind, and the vise squeezes, but to see him in flesh and blood eases some of my anxiety. Green eyes dash across my face before turning to his father and narrowing. He closes the door and steps past the man who gave him life, offering nothing when Theodore asks where he’s going.
“Come on,” he mumbles, walking past me toward the driveway. “I need to get the fuck out of here.”
Dr. Reddy swallows hard, but he’s confident in his ability to control his oldest child. Slipping large, important hands into his pockets, he says, “If you leave, don’t come back.”
It’s an empty threat, and Teller knows it.
“Maby locked herself in the bathroom. You should handle that before someone starts to suspect she’s not perfect either,” Teller responds coldly.
“I know you’re disappointed, but please accept my apology,” I offer his father, turning my body toward Tell. “Nothing like this will happen again.”
Teller starts his car, idling as I rush by the Fastback I borrowed without asking, slipping into the seat beside my criminal. He reverses out of the driveway, avoiding his dad’s deathlike glare, and burns rubber speeding away. Tightening the strap across my chest, I hold on to the door until we exit the gated community and slow down.
My heart doesn’t stop racing.
“I hate that motherfucker,” Teller says. Scabbed knuckles turn white around the steering wheel, and he clenches his teeth, tightening his jaw.
“You don’t mean that,” I say.
Apprehension is stifling, and I choke on residuals from the mess we’re in. How did it get so out of hand? When did chaos become normal? Where’s the stopping point? Teller was arrested, in jail—in fucking jail—and Theodore’s right. He could’ve lost everything he’s worked so hard at resenting and loving all at once.
For what?
Because he didn’t call me for a few days? Because I didn’t invite him to the bar? Because I wanted his undivided attention, so I gave mine to someone else?
I know why.
It’s because Teller and I are wrong for each other.
We are poison.
We’re a toxicity that spreads to everything and everyone when we break bad, and it’s only getting worse.
“What the fuck do you know?” Teller snaps. He slows to a complete stop at a red light and drops his hands onto his lap. “You’ve seen one side of him, Ella. But you don’t have a Goddamn clue what it’s like to live with him.”
My eyes fill with tears, and my heart completely smashes. Like father, like son. “Is he anything like you?”
Slugging me with the full intensity of his broken expression, Teller finally looks in my direction, and green has never been so devastated. Realization washes away anger, leaving a damaged mess of disorder and humiliation in its place. He drops his head back and closes his eyes, and a single tear falls to his temple.
I’ve never seen him cry before, and I lose it completely.
“Something needs to change, baby,” he says. The edge in his tone is gone, replaced with sorrow. “I can’t keep going on like this.”
The car behind us honks when the light turns to Go and we haven’t moved. Teller sits straight, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and accelerates. We end up on a bench in front of the lake in Echo Park sitting side-by-side despite feeling a million miles apart. He has his arm over my shoulders, and I lean my head against his chest and listen to the rhythm of his heart’s beat.
Joggers run past us, paddleboats make waves in the water, and a man pushing an ice cream cart chimes a bicycle bell as he strolls by. The temperature cools as the sun lowers, painting the sky pink and orange, casting shadows across paradise in the middle of the city. Maybe if we don’t say a word, don’t move a muscle, and don’t breathe, everything will stay exactly like this, and we can pretend nothing happened at all.
“Your dad will let you come home, right?” I ask, crossing and uncrossing my legs.
Teller clears his throat. “Yeah, and if he doesn’t, I’ll buy a place here.”
“No kidding. I don’t spend nearly enough time in this part of the city.”
Teller leans forward, unconvinced by the normalcy of small talk, and pats his pockets for his pack of Marlboros. There’s no smoking in the park, but there’s comfort in simply holding his bad habit between his fingers.
“What the fuck happened the other night, Ella?” he asks, flicking his lighter. The small flame ignites and blows out over and over again.
“Did you hook up with Kim?” I ask since that’s where the issue stemmed from.
Teller and I have never put a label on our relationship, but it’s common sense to everyone we’re a duo, and we’re supposed to be untouchable. What we have is enough for me, despite the uncertainty, despite the reluctance, and I’ve never felt the need to seek sex or anything close to it from anyone else. To overhear Kim Evans speak in detail about Teller crushed me.
He won’t meet my eyes, and his shoulders drop. “I didn’t fuck her.”
I refuse to give him my sadness and look away, swallowing bitter regret and hating myself for crying. “What did you do?”
“I was drunk. We talked. She kissed me,” he says quietly. “That’s it.”
I laugh out loud, smacking tears from my cheeks. “That’s enough to break my heart, Tell.”
“It was a mistake. I wanted to come clean, but you blocked my fucking number. Emerson turned me away when I came over. You wouldn’t see me, babe. You didn’t give me the chance to explain myself or apologize. Friday was the first opportunity I got, and we know how that ended.” He exhales audibly. “What were you doing with that guy? Why were you with him?”
“Because I didn’t want to be anywhere around you, Teller,” I exclaim, turning to face him regardless of the tears streaming down my face. My traitorous heart swells at the remorse in his expression, but betrayal burns too hot to ignore. “What I needed was space. When you showed up, I went to the restroom to avoid confrontation. That guy followed me, and he offered to buy me a beer. Nothing more.”
“You accepted a drink from someone you’ve never fucking met before?” he asks. Teller spits and scratches the back of his neck, barely containing his anger.
“You fucked a groupie?” I retort.
He captures my chin in his hand, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “I didn’t fuck her.”
I grip his wrist and cut my fingernails into his tattooed skin until he releases me, bleeding from moon-shaped wounds. Teller stands, dropping the cigarette and holding his hands to the back of his head, exhaling through his cheeks as he looks out to the water. There’s nothing I want more than to wrap my arms around him, because that’s all it would take to make this better. It would be so easy to brush his arrest and everything that led to it under the rug with the last four years.
“Teller…”
“Don’t do this, Ella,” he says. His voice breaks.
“You said it yourself. Yo
u said we can’t go on like this.” I place my palm over my heart, searching for signs of life. Surely I won’t survive this pain. “We went too far, Teller.”
Kneeling in front of me, betrayal cradles my face between his hands, gentle this time. His thumbs sweep across my cheekbones, wiping away damage. “That’s not what I meant. I would never mean this. You are the most important person in my life, baby.”
“It won’t work out.” I grasp the concrete bench to keep from clutching on to the front of his shirt.
A couple on rollerblades skates by, whispering between themselves as they spy on us. The odds of this turning into another scene are likely, and that’s the last thing we need.
“Let me go.” The words are between us before I can reach out and grab them.
He trembles, practically vibrating before me. “I can’t.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Leaning forward, Teller rests his forehead against mine, drowning me in his nearness. I turn my face as his lips press against the corner of my mouth, opening to taste me with his tongue.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” he asks, trying again to seize my lips.
I push him away and stand to my feet, holding my hand out so he won’t come closer. “Because if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”
“Did Emerson tell you to do this?” Teller stands six feet away with his hands in his hair and madness in his eyes. “Choose me, if he did, baby. We don’t need them. We don’t need any of them, Gabriella.”
“He’s my brother!” I cry out, not surprised he’s figured it out. “He’s given up his entire life for me.”
He drops his hands and lights a cigarette, unconcerned with the rules. I watch his lungs expand with nicotine, and just like the first time I saw him, it stretches to the sky in ribbons when he exhales.
There’s no one more stunning than Teller Reddy. He’s a sculpture of torment, perfectly chiseled and shaped, from the sharpness in his jawline, to his broad shoulders and long legs. I love the way he holds a cigarette at his lips and lets it hang between his pout. I’m obsessed with the barely-there freckles across his nose; a secret only those he lets close know about. And his eyes, framed by thick eyebrows and long, long lashes, look at me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world.
“Things need to slow down,” I say, coming undone. “When the people around us start getting hurt, there’s something wrong.”
“It’s been four motherfucking years, Ella, and we haven’t kissed, we haven’t had sex, and we haven’t committed to shit. We can’t go any slower, babe.” Teller takes a hit, squinting as he inhales carcinogens. The end of his cigarette glows orange and red before turning to ash.
“I want you in my life,” I whisper, holding the back of my wrist to my mouth and sobbing. “But not like this, Teller.”
Dropping his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, he snubs it out with the toe of his shoe and chuckles. When he returns his gaze to me, lips I love are turned into a smirk, and his eyes swim with tears. “Just friends?”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
Teller holds his hands up and walks backward, putting the space I asked for between us. Flipping me off with both middle fingers, he says, “Here’s what I think about being just friends.”
“Where are you going?” I call out, taking a few steps forward.
“Go home.” Teller tosses the car keys. They hit the ground and skid to my feet. “I don’t want any more friends.”
Now
She’s different.
Needy.
I oblige.
The obsession’s taken over.
We are never apart.
It hurts to be away.
I am possessed.
She is my possession.
She’s mine.
Now
“We’ve been home for two weeks and this is still in front of the door.” Ella kicks the cardboard box next to the coffee table and sits on the couch. She shoves her sleeves up to her elbows and breaks the tape sealing it shut. “Do you mind if I open it?”
Sometime during our road trip, Kristi’s family flew in to close her apartment. They dropped off my belongings before returning to Alaska with a note stating they’d included a few things they thought I might want to keep for myself. I haven’t so much as touched the package, because whatever’s inside I haven’t missed, and it’s from a part of my life I’m ready to leave behind.
“Go ahead,” I say, sprinkling flakes of food into the fish tank. “Come over here first. I think Phish is smiling.”
Ella sighs, pushing the box away and clapping dust from her hands. She stands beside me, holding her face directly in front of the bigger and badder tank I bought for the little fucker when it became apparent he’s here to stay. I completely forgot about him while we were on vacation, but Ella worked out a feeding schedule with my mom. The bastard survived our absence, and he’s grown at least an inch since relocating to his new residence.
“He’s not smiling, Teller.” She laughs, tapping on the glass. I swat her hand away, rolling my eyes when she shoves me back. “What the hell was that for?”
“Don’t knock on his tank. Do you have any idea how loud that is for him?” I give him a little more food so he can eat his feelings. “And that’s a fucking smile on his lips.”
“You love Phish!” She crosses her arms over her chest and smiles. All I see is the ring on her finger, the one our families gaped at the day we returned, and I can forgive her for the attempted-deafening of our pet.
Screwing the cap on the fish food, I scoff. “He’s cool. Even cooler because he smiles. But he’s had a tough life. Giving him a decent place to swim is the least we can do.”
Barefoot, braless under one of my button-ups, and in nothing but a pair of cotton underwear, Ella grins from ear-to-ear. What we should have done in the fourteen days since we returned home is adjusted to a new routine and prepared to go back to the hospital, but all we’ve done is eat, sleep, and fuck, lovingly. Our bags are still packed, the food in the fridge has gone bad, and our voicemail boxes are full; knocks at the door have gone unanswered, emails are disregarded, and we haven’t checked one text message. It’s only a matter of time before someone sends a search party.
But she’s so … consuming.
“Maybe we should get a puppy since you love the fish so much,” she says, slowly unbuttoning her shirt.
The container of fish food falls to the floor, and my dick twitches. “Maybe you should have my baby.”
Ella bites her bottom lip, exposing her left breast and shoulder. “Maybe you should put your baby inside of me.”
Pulling my shirt over my head, I smile and say, “I’m going to put something in you.”
Ella tilts her head back and laughs, shrieking when I take her in my arms and carry her to the couch. I kick the table over, knocking the box to its side, and hook my fingers under the hem of her panties. Slipping them down her legs, she kicks white cotton and lace from her foot and drapes her ankles over my shoulders.
Pressing the palms of my hands to the insides of her knees, I spread her wide open and moan, “Fuck, baby.”
Just-shampooed hair is unruly, cascading over her shoulders, sticking to her lips, and falling between and around her tits. She picks it up, amber and vanilla-scented, and drapes it along the back of the couch, elongating her naked chest and soft neck for me.
“I love you,” I say breathlessly, kissing the inside of her thigh, up, up, up.
She nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. A pink blush spreads from her chest to her cheeks. “I love you.”
I lick between her folds. Ella buckles, arching her back from the sofa and crying out. I hold her hips down, smirking against her heat before kissing tenderness with my mouth open, watching her come undone above me. She’s warm, smooth, and so fucking wet, stretching her arms, reaching for something, anything to hold on to.
“Teller,” she moans. Ella knocks a painting from the wall, scratches her nails
into the couch trying to get a handful, and hooks her knee around the back of my neck. “Oh my God, Tell.”
I slip two fingers inside of her and stop to watch love fuck my hand. She rocks her hips, rubbing her clit against the palm of my hand. With the taste of her in my throat, I climb onto the couch, pull my dick from my shorts, and thrust inside the place my mouth just was. I groan against her shoulder as I’m wrapped in heat, using the back of the couch as leverage to pump harder.
She holds on to my sides, slipping her palms around my lower back, guiding me in and out of her sex. Ella lifts her hips and circles her legs around the back of my thighs until I’m all the way inside of her.
“Go slow. Go so, so, so slow,” she whispers, circling against me.
Pressure builds in my chest, spreading through the rest of my body, numbing my lips, my fingertips, and swirling in my stomach. The need for more overwhelms the need for anything else, stripping me of reason, justifying why we’ve locked ourselves in this house for the last two weeks.
We fuck until my cock can’t get hard. We stay connected until her pussy swells, and she can’t take me even if I can get it up after being inside of her for hours. I’ve loved this girl in every position, tasted every inch of her skin, and there isn’t one part of Ella I don’t know by heart.
It’s not enough.
It’s not.
But it doesn’t stop us from trying to get closer.
It doesn’t keep us from forgetting the world and trying to climb into each other.
Dominate each other.
My first day back at the hospital is a fucking nightmare, and I’m thrown into the thick of things before I have a chance to reacquaint myself with my surroundings. Overworked and understaffed, I’m kept in the emergency room to help with intake, discharge, and treating patients directly.
Closer (Closer #1) Page 22
