by Reese Ryan
Waiting for her to come to her senses, he’d gone through a myriad of emotions. Today he’d welcomed anger. How in the hell could she believe I’d ever do anything to hurt her? Roth sighed heavily. Watching that woman walk away from him had been like watching an alligator gnaw off your leg and not doing anything to stop it because you had no idea what to do.
Dammit, you should have done something.
“Mr. L?”
“Yes!” Damn. Roth massaged his temple, took a deep breath, then turned toward a stunned-faced Sebastian, one of the kids in his class. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Sebastian. I apologize.”
Sebastian ambled toward him, his hands tucked inside his tattered jean pockets. The ten-year-old was as timid as an abused puppy, but Roth saw something in the kid. Maybe a little of himself at that age. Roth had quickly outgrown his timid stage. Maybe Sebastian would, too.
“What’s up, man?”
Sebastian lowered his head, lifted it, then lowered it again. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He dug the tip of his worn tennis shoe into the scuffed industrial tile, his gaze never meeting Roth’s. “You always tell us to practice, practice, practice at the end of each class, but you didn’t say that tonight. You say it after every class. And before dismissing us, you always make us say, ‘We’re strong black men, and we matter.’ You didn’t do that, either.”
Roth chuckled. Damn. He guessed he had been a little off tonight. Sebastian paid attention to everything, so it didn’t surprise him that the inquisitive boy had picked up on his turmoil.
“So, is everything okay?” Sebastian asked. “You’re not leaving us, are you?” He finally glanced up, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose.
The kid reminded Roth of a young philosopher. With the right guidance, he would do great things. Adjusting his mood, Roth said, “Dude, no, I’m not leaving you guys. You know how much I love teaching you knuckleheads how to play. Even though I think the only reason most of you come is for the pizza on Thursdays.”
Sebastian lowered his head, but Roth could see the smile that played on his lips. Every young man who participated in Roth’s twelve-week-long academies were required to sign a pledge to take their lessons seriously. While each Tuesday and Thursday they showed up faithfully, he suspected the reward was what kept most of them so dedicated.
But he didn’t care what it took to get them through the door. If they were in class with him, they weren’t out in the streets causing or getting into trouble.
Then there were the two or three he had like Sebastian, who truly enjoyed learning to read music and play the saxophone. Their eagerness alone made this all worth it.
Roth placed a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and jostled him playfully. “I apologize for straying away from routine. I’ll have it together by Thursday. I promise. Thank you for keeping me on my toes, man. I owe you.”
“My dad stopped doing things he used to do right before he left me and my mom.” Sebastian shrugged a scrawny shoulder. “I don’t want you to leave, Mr. L. You’re a great teacher and you don’t treat us like kids. Plus, you buy us pizza.” He smiled, revealing a missing bottom tooth.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” Roth said.
Sebastian’s words hit home. If nothing else, Roth understood abandonment. He would never do that to his boys. Or someone he loved.
* * *
For the past week Tressa had hidden her pain behind forced smiles and work. Still, no matter how brilliantly she smiled or how many hours she strolled the halls of Tender Hearts Memorial Hospital, Roth eventually invaded her thoughts. And when that happened, her heart shattered all over again.
Vivian grabbed another mozzarella stick off the table and crunched into it, drawing Tressa’s attention. Tressa smiled at her best friend opposite her on the couch, who’d arrived at her place an hour ago with an overnight bag and comfort food: mozzarella sticks, chicken wings, pizza, garlic knots, fried ravioli and vanilla ice cream to wash it all down.
“You do know I’m trying to lose a couple of pounds, not gain,” Tressa said, reaching for another one of the meat-filled ravioli and popping it into her mouth. She’d start fresh tomorrow.
Vivian grabbed another piece of pizza. “Tonight, calories don’t count.”
They shared a laugh.
Tressa appreciated what her friend was doing, but it wasn’t necessary. “You don’t have to babysit me, Vi. You’re a married woman. You should be home with your husband.”
“I want to be here. Alonso won’t be home till late. He’s supposed to be meeting Ro—” Vivian stopped abruptly.
“You can say his name. I won’t go ballistic.” Though she might just burst out crying. It truly could go either way.
To think a few weeks ago she’d been the happiest woman alive. Now look at her, wrapped in a blanket on her couch stuffing her face with food. Pitiful. Happiness was clearly reserved for individuals who didn’t let the likes of love get in their way. Love. She growled at the low-down, trifling emotion that had brought her far too much pain.
“You know what’s funny, Vi? I really thought this was it. I really thought I’d get my happy-ever-after. I thought Roth was the one.” Her voice cracked with unintended emotion.
“Roth is the one.”
Did Vivian not recall all the things she’d told her, all the things she’d overheard that night, backstage at the club? How could she still believe in Roth? Tressa blew out a heavy sigh, choosing not to address Vivian’s words. “I’m done.”
Vivian eyed her quizzically. “Done with what?”
“Love, men, relationships. I’m done with it all. Obviously, this is a sign I’m meant to be alone.”
Vivian barked a humorless laugh. “You don’t mean that, Tress.”
Yes, she did. “I trusted him, Vi. I trusted every kiss, every touch, every intimate moment I shared with him. I trusted him.” She shook her head. “I should have known better. I know the games men are capable of playing. I just never thought Roth—” She stopped at the onset of emotions she felt. No way would she cry. No. Damn. Way. Her head tilted back against the cushion. “I’m done.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. From you, of all people. You are the freaking ambassador for all things love.”
“Maybe once. Not anymore.”
Vivian sat up ramrod straight. “When I foolishly wanted to run from Alonso, it was you who gave me a swift kick in the ass and brought me to my senses.”
“And I’m happy for what you and Alonso have, Vi, but I’m beginning to think love is just not meant for me.”
“So you’re just going to give up?”
Tressa folded her arms like a defiant child. “Yes.”
“The Tressa I know wouldn’t just bow down and take it. She would fight for what she loved, who she loved. And trust me, I know you love Roth just as much as he loves you. And another thing, you may be done with love—” she made air quotes “—but love is not done with you.”
Tressa eyed her best friend. Why in the hell was Vivian so distraught? She was the one going through the perils of love.
Tressa ached to stress just how wrong she thought Vivian was. But since Vivian was clearly the new poster child for love, Tressa kept her comments to herself. And just for the record, she wasn’t giving up; she was giving in. Love had taken her through too damn much.
No, she didn’t care what anyone said. She was done with love.
CHAPTER 20
Roth had thrown himself into his work—arriving at the office at the crack of dawn, not leaving until pitch dark. Why? Because designing a new aircraft was the only thing that kept him half-sane and his mind off Tressa. That and playing the sax, but somehow, playing always brought his thoughts back to her.
When his cell phone rang, he tossed a glance at the clock. Eight. Shit. He
was late. Taking the call from Alonso, he said, “I lost track of time. I’m on the way.”
Alonso rattled off something about it being packed and he’d go ahead and grab a table. Ending the call, Roth logged off his computer before midnight for the first time in days, gathered his belongings and headed out to meet Alonso—who would undoubtedly spend the evening trying to cheer him up. Why? Because that was what best friends did for each other.
A half hour later Roth sat inside the Flaming Arrow Bar and Grille, nursing a glass of top-shelf bourbon. Conversation swirled around him, people happy and celebrating life. He envied them, because at this moment his life was shit. Without Tressa, his…life…was…shit. He was man enough to admit that.
So why in the hell hadn’t he done anything about it?
Scanning the room, his eyes lingered on blissful couples hugged up in booths, whispering sweet nothings to each other. He saw people on their way to being happy couples, offering enduring gestures in hopes of solidifying their positions in each other’s lives. Then there were the individuals obviously searching for that love connection, exchanging interested glances and warm smiles. Lastly, the handful clearly looking for just an evening with no commitment.
Him, in a past life.
Roth grumbled and damned everyone around him for carrying on with their lives while his life was falling apart around him. What had love done to him? And why had he allowed Alonso to talk him into coming here against this backdrop of happiness?
Alonso claimed another one of the habanero wings from the platter. “Have you called her?”
After giving her some time to come to her senses—which hadn’t happened—he’d decided to help her along by reaching out. She’d shunned him like a leper. “A hundred times. I feel like a stalker.” He took a swig from his glass. “She hasn’t blocked me yet. I guess that’s a good sign.”
“She will come around,” Alonso said.
Roth wasn’t so sure about his friend’s optimism. The anger he’d suppressed came back with a vengeance. “Why in the hell am I sitting around, moping? I haven’t done anything. I never touched India. If Tressa can’t trust me, then maybe…” His heart wouldn’t allow him to complete the sentence.
“Tressa loves you, Ro. She’s just hurting. Give her time to sort all her feelings. She will come around.”
“Yeah, well, I’m hurting, too. She tossed me away, man. She tossed me away just like every other—” Stopping abruptly, he finished the contents of his glass and motioned to the waitress for a refill. Enough of this feeling-sorry-for-himself bull. “I’m good. How do I even know it’s worth it anyway?”
Alonso pushed his plate away and wiped his hands. “What if Tressa walked in with another man right now?”
Alonso’s words ignited an inferno inside Roth, and lava flowed through his veins. His jaw clenched so tightly he thought the bones would shatter. The mere suggestion of another man getting any of Tressa’s time caused him to see red.
Alonso jabbed a finger at him. “That reaction, my friend, is how you know it’s worth it.”
Roth’s brow furrowed.
Alonso barked a single laugh. “You looked like you were ready to kill over a woman who hasn’t spoken to you in over a week. That’s love, man. And love is always worth it.”
Roth’s heart rate slowly decreased. He massaged the tension from the back of his neck. “Could you have thought of another way to make your point?”
Alonso flashed his palms. “Hey, I did what I had to do. You were there for me when I had given up any hope of getting Vivian back. You had my back. Now it’s time for me to repay the favor.”
Alonso clapped Roth on the shoulder. Roth couldn’t be mad at his best friend for getting his blood boiling. That’s what true friends did. They said and did whatever they needed to do to keep each other from making devastating mistakes.
“Thank you, man,” Roth said.
“My pleasure. Now, let’s strategize on how you’re going to get your woman back.”
There was no need. Roth knew exactly what he needed to do.
* * *
Tressa rolled her head to the side to glance at the clock sitting on her nightstand. Four o’clock. In two hours she had to be up, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be either. She’d be surprised if she’d got four full days’ worth of sleep total in the past two weeks. One thing was for sure; she couldn’t keep going like this.
Her eyes landed on the black tourmaline on the nightstand, and she thought about Roth. He hadn’t had a nightmare since she’d given him the crystals. She’d attributed it to the tourmaline; he’d attributed it to her. Recalling how grateful he’d been by her gesture warmed her, along with words he’d said. Woman, you’re the answer to my unspoken prayers. The amount of compassion that had glowed in his eyes…
Tressa swallowed down the building emotions. She hated to admit it, but she missed Roth like hell. The way he touched her—as if she were a rare stone. The way he kissed her—with so much intensity it left her breathless. The way he made love to her—as if he was giving her chunks of his soul.
Tressa pinched her eyes together to fend off her tears. Her head suggested she needed to get over Roth, but her heart gave other advice; sound advice, she chose to believe. So why was she lying there in bed alone and not beside the man she loved?
Because you are a stubborn fool, Tressa Washington. And it has cost you the best thing that’s ever happened to you. A beat later, tears rolled from her eyes.
She cried.
She cried long.
She cried hard.
She cried ugly.
She cried for the pain she’d denied feeling over her loss.
She cried for the many times she’d rejected how much she missed Roth.
She cried for the countless moments she’d told herself she no longer loved him.
She cried for…for the mere fact there had been no laughter in her soul since she’d walked away from him.
She cried until there were no more tears left.
Had losing Roth truly been a sign she deserved to be alone? She certainly believed in signs, especially ones she’d asked for. But she hadn’t asked for this. She would have never asked for her heart to be ripped from her chest. She would have never asked for this type of pain.
But had she?
She’d been the one who’d refused him the opportunity to explain. She’d been the one who’d walked away, her hurt overshadowing the guidance of her heart. She’d been the one who’d, for the past few weeks, refused to reach out to him. Had she asked for this?
Two hours later the alarm sounded and Tressa slammed her hand onto the snooze button. She draped her arm over her eyes, cursing the light penetrating her blinds.
It can’t be six already.
Dragging herself from the bed, she charged through her morning bathroom routine, then headed for the kitchen to consume a trough of coffee. The fragrant java smell greeted her the second she opened her bedroom door. Thank God for coffee machines with timers. The first sip of the strong brew caused a twitch in her lips that would have normally blossomed into a smile.
Today she didn’t feel like smiling. Would she ever again? Feel like it or do it?
Leaning against the counter, she steadied the cup between her hands. She just couldn’t continue like this. Her job performance was taking a hit and so was her health. Over the past two weeks she’d experienced elevated blood pressure and heart palpitations. She blamed it on sleep deprivation and stress. Her eyes lowered to her mug. Of course, her increased caffeine intake could be a contributor, as well.
Relinquishing the mug, she grabbed her insulated tumbler and filled it to the brim. Checking the time, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. If she was late again, Ms. Kasetta, the toughest charge nurse in the South, would have her head�
��and her job, no doubt.
Stopping abruptly, she cursed, veered back to the kitchen and lifted her keys from the hook. “Can’t go anywhere without these.” Satisfied she hadn’t forgotten anything else—like her brain—she hurried out the door.
The second she stepped foot on the porch, Tressa gasped and dropped the tumbler. The top popped off and hot coffee ran everywhere. The mess only fazed her for a millisecond, sending her gaze back to her lawn.
Stunned by the display, her eyes swept her front yard. “What the…” Countless airplanes littered her grass. Stepping over the spilled coffee, she descended the stairs. Her purse slid from her arm and thunked to the ground. There was only one person who could have accomplished this. Roth.
Her eyes brushed from one side of the yard to the other. Where was he? Was he still there? Watching her, maybe?
Collecting one of the lavender planes, she unfolded it. Sure enough, a message was scribbled inside, just as she suspected. “Memories are priceless. One of the best ones I have is making snow angels with you.” A smile touched her lips. It was one of her best, too.
She lifted another lavender plane. It, too, contained a memory message. “We don’t remember days, we remember moments. I’ll never forget the exact moment I fell in love with you.” Tressa flipped it over, expecting more to be written. Disappointed that there wasn’t.
She wanted to know when.
She swallowed hard and blinked back tears. Choosing a white airplane this time, she pulled it apart as if gold coins waited inside for her. This one was a Maya Angelou quote.
“‘People will forget—’” Her voice cracked and she recited the rest in her head. The last line, people will never forget how you made them feel, was written in all caps. Roth’s penned words followed. You make me feel invincible.
Tressa clapped her hand over her mouth, a single tear sliding from her eye. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
