UNSHAKABLE (Able Series Book 4)

by Aceves, Gigi

  Evade—he’s not evading now, not like the times we’ve talked about us. Right here, he’s telling me everything I’ve always known.

  Invade—he’s invading all of me. My body, my heart. . . . my soul. Am I ready to allow him to?

  DAMIEN

  As I’m staring at this beautiful creature in front of me, I’m in awe of her. Denying my feelings has been a thorn in my side for more than six months, but a thorn half of my heart knows I can’t fight anymore. I’ve never needed, craved, wanted anyone as much as I need, crave, and want Sophia. I never expected her to freeze me out, but now that she’s dishing it out I’m scared out of my damn mind.

  “Beautiful.” The one word leaves my mouth as I anchor my hands on her face. The moment I make contact, time stops for me and her face is all I see . . . her green eyes glow like the brightest emeralds, her porcelain face the compass that guides me, her luscious lips I desperately want to own, her shiny auburn hair that frames her angelic face. All of her features occupy every space in my brain and heart.

  “Stunning.” Another declaration leaves my lips—a declaration I’ve been holding in for so long. There’s no evading it this time, this time I’m being reckless while my heart is just simply being truthful.

  Her hands stay still while her eyes express confusion as her mouth falls slightly open. She's either speechless about my physical display of affection or at least the urgency of it.

  “I don’t have much time. I’ve always been honest with you, Sophia. Please listen to every word, please. I fear that I’m losing you if I haven’t already. I. . . . I know I’ve told you to move on, enjoy life as you should. But now that you’re actually doing the very thing I ask of you. . . . my heart just hurts.”

  I’m probably not making a lick of sense since she’s still wearing the same damn confused look. Absent is the look of want, of need, and in its place is nothing but a ‘what the hell are you talking about’ kind of look. As the coldness of losing her paralyzes my heart, her words seal the deal. My heart is now officially dead because the impassiveness of her words matches her tone.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, but you wanted it this way. So, what is it really you want from me? You can’t have it both ways. How selfish could you be? You don’t want me to do certain things because it hurts you, but when it’s me asking the same, all I get is a flat no.” She pauses and looks me straight in the eye as she gives her final blow. “So, I am telling you now. No!”

  As I taste the bittersweet truth of her words something snaps within me. I am hers just as she is mine. Over and over my heart shouts this, and finally I give in. All I know . . . all my brain is directing me to do . . . all my heart wants is just a kiss—a kiss. Forget about honor, my integrity, the office . . . all of it for a single moment—a moment that will last me a lifetime.

  My lips meet hers as I cradle her face with my hands in the most reverent of ways. Her soft inviting lips entice mine to move, to draw her in, to make her remember, and to never forget how we taste together. As my tongue darts out seeking consent, she stays unmoving, eyes closed, brows furrowed as if she’s in pain. Only then do my lips separate from hers.

  “Sophia . . .” I whisper. I’m not sure if I want her to answer or remain silent.

  Authentic pain pulses through me though my heart is unfeeling . . . still. I want to close my eyes to deny myself the pain of seeing her face, but I know I can’t. Honor is the very essence of my being, denying or running away from it isn’t acceptable. So, I meet her gaze when she opens her eyes then wait to hear the words her eyes are yelling at me.

  “We’ve been honest with each other and this is me being honest with you. I can’t do this. I refuse to be part of this labyrinth like reasoning of why we couldn’t be and what I can’t do. I’m tired. It’s either you let me go or let me in. In the past I was willing to find my way out of this maze you created, but not anymore. I need to think of me. I love me, too, Damien.”

  The strength of her words and the resoluteness on her face pushes me over the edge. The cusp of where my love for my job and my love for her resides.

  “I hate saying those words but something’s gotta give, and my heart gave.”

  “I know, Sophia. I understand.”

  She nods in a very formal way, transforming before my eyes. The straightening of her shoulders, the mask of indifference on her face, and the emerald glow of her eyes are now a dull shade of hazel. And sadly my actions, or lack thereof, prompted that change.

  She closes her eyes and with a curt voice says, “I’m ready to go. I want to go now.”

  When I locked eyes with hers, the determination of moving on is undoubtedly etched on her face while my determination of winning her back shines in my eyes. Whether it is too late or not, I won’t go down without a fight.

  “I’ll make it right.” My tone though not loud breathes grit—persistence.

  “Prove it.” Her ice cold answer definitely challenges me.

  She steels her heart and ices mine. I can almost feel the slow spread of her frostiness, killing the burn it had started. I walk out before her, then motion for her to walk next to me as we head outside into the world I’m protecting her from physically, but hurting her heart and mine in the process.

  Evade—there’s really no point in doing so. A heart can’t evade something it seeks. A mind can’t evade something it envisions. A body can’t evade something it desires.

  Invade—the entirety of her being. I need to encompass her with my kiss, my lips, my tongue, my touch, but above all it’s my mission to invade her with my love. A love I thought I’d never give to anyone, but overjoyed to be blessed to give it to my Sophia.

  SOPHIA

  IT’S BEEN A MONTH SINCE the greatest revelation of my life. I’ve put all my attention both body and mind into dancing. It’s easier to express my pain that way. It’s as if I escape from the agony with every sway of my hips, or when my partner lifts me up then throws me into the air, it’s as though I’m free only to fall back down into nothingness. Dancing is cathartic for me. It’s my imaginary lover that never leaves nor argues, never denies me anything, but rather accepts me—accepts the interpretation of a song completely without fear of being rejected. . . . corrected. . . . or denied.

  Darcee and I opened a dance studio on Washington Circle right after graduation. She handles the business side while I teach. We offer lessons from classical ballet, lyrical, contemporary, to interpretive dancing. I enjoy it tremendously, but more so now than ever before. Thankfully, we have a recital in a couple of months; hence, the long tedious hours spent with Mark perfecting all the lifts and spins of our contemporary interpretation of Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers.

  “Soph, I think we have to rest. We’ve been at it for six hours straight. I’m about to sleep on that damn chaise we’re using as a prop for this dance.”

  Mark throws me a towel to wipe off the sweat that’s trickling down every crevice of my body. I glare at him in a silent protest, just as I’ve always done in the past when someone tells me something I don’t necessarily agree with. I can’t vocalize anything because I’m so used to being shut down anyway.

  Throwing the towel back at him, I assume my position. “Let’s do it again.”

  Even though every muscle in my body aches for me to stop, I can’t . . . I won’t. This is the only time I don’t feel the huge chasm of disappointment that has plagued me since our last confrontation. I let the music consume me, to transport me to a place where I’m in control of me—my body. Every movement is done by me, every step thought by me, every turn, spin, arch of my back is because of me.

  Suddenly, a barrage of loud clapping followed by shrieks drowns the music. Mark and I turn to the sound of the chaos only to find Darcee smiling while Bryanna eye fucks Mark. Even though she knows he’s gay, her drooling is unstoppable.

  Damien has been standing at the corner of the room for thirty minutes now. The whole time his eyes are on me. How I wish his body were on me, too. But
that will only be a dream—an impossible dream. Knowing that nothing or no one could change his mind about our relationship, I look away.

  “Are you ready to eat now, Soph?” Darcee asks as she closes the door after understanding my non-verbal plea to save me from Damien’s eyes.

  “Let me just grab a quick shower, then we’ll go.” I walk toward the stairs leading to my private studio.

  “We’re done for the day, Soph. I’m not coming back to practice the same routine we’ve worked on since five thirty this morning,” Mark hollers behind me.

  I manage to give him two thumbs up, not bothering to open my mouth. I think I’ve over done it this time. I don’t even know if I can survive lunch, my body is clamoring for my bed, and my muscles demand a full body massage. Forty-five minutes later, I’m sandwiched by Bry and Darcee as we walk toward the black car of pain.

  As soon as we’re settled inside, Darcee groans, “Stop! I forgot my phone. Can you go with me, Bry?” Her fake tone puts me on the defensive.

  Even though my brain screams set-up, my body refuses to move—to run. Travis exits with Sarah, Jared stands outside waiting for Bry and Darcee leaving Damien and me alone. God, kill me now! So far I’ve been successful at avoiding any direct communication with him, except for now. Right now is a bad time to run away since I’m bone tired with very limited movement. I internally cast bad juju at my friends whom I know have their names written all over this.

  Without facing me he says, “You’re over doing it, Sophia. You have to stop this.”

  I don’t answer, not a single peep. Why should I? It’s not as though it’ll make a difference. Dancing is the only thing I can control and have control over, so giving it up, slowing down, or stopping aren’t options. It’s not even up for discussion. His audacity of telling me I have to stop makes my already boiling blood rage like the fires in hell.

  Perhaps, my silence uses up all his stored patience, because he turns to face me without his trusted Oakley’s covering his eyes. If he thinks I’m going to cower and back down from his death glare, he’s got another thing coming.

  “What are you trying to prove, Sophia?”

  “Who says I’m trying to prove anything?” I shrug.

  He shakes his head as he tries his hardest to temper his emotions. “Then please explain to me why you’re killing yourself? You’ve been dancing twelve hours a day for the past month.”

  “I have a recital coming up. Dancing is my job, and I love doing it.” I know it’s childish to throw his words back at him, but if he can do it, give me up for his job, then I can surely do it, too.

  “I know why you’re doing this. I’m not dumb, Sophia. You can punish me, but don’t hurt yourself doing it. You want to have a go at it? You want to hit me? Do.It. I’d rather feel the sting of your anger than see you suffer from it because of me! It’s not fair that you’re doing this!”

  I lean into his face, my own anger teetering at the edge of explosion. “I can’t control your perception, Damien. I’m doing what I love, just as you do. Surely, you can understand, right? After all, you told me the same thing. So, why don’t you do your job and get Darcee. I’m tired of waiting.”

  “You’re just as spoiled, just as selfish as the day you hit Tami.”

  “And you’re just as bullheaded, just as arrogant! Funny how you always use the worst day of my life as a reference.” The bite in my words surprise him enough to shut him up. The awkward silence that surrounds us sparks a memory.

  As the cold December air pricks my skin, nothing can compare to the happiness surrounding me as Damien and I sit on the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial one night. We’re talking like two adults, calling a truce to the stressful situation created by our secret feelings toward each other.

  “What do you do on your days off?”

  “I run, talk to my mom and my sister, swing by the office. It’s all mundane stuff, Sophia. I lead a very boring life.” He chuckles as his eyes do another quick pass of our surroundings.

  “Do you have a girlfriend back home?”

  The moment those words leave my mouth, I want to slap myself. Why? Why ask him that?

  I turn to look at his face, his eyes cast across the Reflecting Pool. “No.” He shakes his head still avoiding my gaze. “I have no one.”

  “Do you like someone? I mean, you must . . . you know . . . no one really wants to be alone. I mean . . . I don’t want to be alone.” I look into the distance, embarrassed at my brazen question, but I could still see his lips tilting into a smile from the corner of my eyes.

  He stays quiet for a while, probably pondering what he could say. I wait, looking at the few people milling about, silently berating myself for asking that stupid question. The peace this place gives me is indescribable, and I’m thankful I get to sit here and enjoy it with him.

  “I have someone special, though I can’t say that I have her physically. She’s close, so close I can see the pulse ticking on her neck, the way she fidgets and plays with her fingers when she’s nervous, or the way she bites on her lip when she’s trying to think of what to say to me when she tells me off. I see her beautiful smile that lights up a room each day,” he says. A hint of laughter coats his voice. “She makes me laugh with her antics that she might think annoys me, but in reality it’s a nice reprieve in my rather square life. But, nothing more can ever happen because we’re two different people living in different worlds. And though it’s painful to accept, I’d rather be around her as her shield than be erased from her life all together.”

  I whisper, “She’s one lucky girl.” I swing my gaze to him, his eyes lock on mine and a bubble encloses us, making everyone around us disappear.

  “I’m the lucky one. Though I don’t think I deserve her, my heart has already picked her.”

  My next question comes out like a thief in the night making my face scorch in heat. “What’s her name?” I’m shamelessly fishing.

  “Wildflower.” His sad voice almost brings tears to my eyes.

  Then he helps me up, not giving me another second to volley yet another question as he leads me down the steps and into the car. His answer shocks me . . . it shocks my heart, realizing what it means should excite me but reality is like a thick glacier, freezing my heart shut.

  His heart picks me! But as I replay everything he said, I know there could never be an ‘us’.

  The car door opening disrupts my reverie as Travis drives us to our favorite bistro around Dupont Circle after which I’m whisked away back to the residence. My home where I’m far away from everyone, including him.

  Denial—I’ve never denied my feelings for him, not once. Why should I? It has been the most real feeling I’ve ever felt for anyone. And while he can deny it all he wants, it’s a feeling that strengthens in time, no matter how much I want to weaken it.

  Acceptance—It’s probably time for me to acknowledge that our relationship will forever be that of protector and protected. Nothing more. If accepting our stalemate situation is hard, it’s even more merciless when you factor in that it’s not one sided.

  DAMIEN

  I wake up with a heavy heart, heavier than normal because for the past month I’ve had to watch what she’s doing to herself because of me until I get my approval.

  I know she’s showing me that she loves her job just as I do mine. I don’t think she’ll understand my need to do my job and be with her. My two worlds are colliding and not meshing. Maybe God intended for this to happen so I can finally pick one. Haven’t it been said one can’t serve two masters. I smirk at the thought since I’m a slave to my job and to Sophia.

  My job defines me. It’s all I’ve ever known. It has shown me everything. Love for God and country has ruled my life until Sophia. Now, she is my life. I’ve made a choice and now . . . I wait.

  I’m tying up my running shoes when my personal cell rings. Without looking at who’s calling, I answer only to be greeted by a loud breather on the other end. I pull the phone from my ear and look at the number an
d press end. This has been happening a lot lately. A lot of hang ups, especially at this time of day. I send a quick text to Brian to scan of my phone to see who my mystery caller is.

  I run my regular six miles to clear my head, though it doesn’t distract me from the decision I’ve already made. As painful as it is, it needs to be done. I’ll sacrifice something once again, though it really isn’t one. With sweat running all over my body, my mind is solely focused on my Wildflower and what I’m about to do.

  My personal cell buzzes against my leg prompting me to stop. I’m gasping for air as I pull my phone from my pocket. “H. .Hello.”

  “Uh . . . I’m not disturbing anything, am I?” Brian asks.

  “No. I’m running if you must know. It’s my day off.”

  “Whoever’s calling you is using a pre-paid phone. I can’t trace it, man. Are you sure it’s not some broad you’ve pissed off?”

  “Nah. Thanks anyway. How’s everything over there?”

  “Everything’s good, man. The girls are planning a mini-vacation to your neck of the woods this summer. But I’ll let your sister break it down for you. Just act surprised, alright?”

  “Right. Later, man.”

  I miss my family back home. With everyone having babies and enjoying their family life, I just feel out of place though they’ve never make me feel that way. Memories, they never leave me . . . the good, the bad, even the ugly; I welcome them with open arms. My walk down memory lane literally stops when I’m suddenly hit by a small body attaching to mine.

  “Hey, handsome.” Nicole’s smile puts me on the defensive.

  “Hey.” I’m sure surprise is evident on my face. “What are you doing here? You don’t live in this area.”

  As we start jogging, she nudges me with her elbow. “Glad you remember. But I’m now a proud and happy owner of a condo two floors above yours.”

  That got my attention, and so does my feet since I slow down to almost a walking pace. Nicole lives in the same building I live in. Once again fate plays a mean trick, and my gut smells danger.