All or Nothing

by Kendall Ryan

  “Come in.” He ushered me inside and shut the door. The scent that enveloped me was every bit Braydon. All male and warm and delicious. I wanted to just stand here and inhale, but Braydon’s hand on my lower back guided me into the living room.

  “Would you like a tour?”

  I nodded slowly. His eyes locked on mine and told me he knew that this was a big step in the right direction, which made me happy, though I wasn’t totally sure what to make of this gesture. Was he opening his life up for me?

  I followed him forward, stepping onto a comfortable shaggy rug that warmed up the space. The wooden plank floors creaked lightly as we walked. I liked that I had somewhere to picture Braydon when we were apart.

  He showed me the living room, which included a framed photograph of his mom and dad, his tiny but ultraneat kitchen that contained an impressive coffee and espresso maker that I was dying to try. I imagined waking up to the smell of roasting beans. Then we ventured down a narrow hallway that led to his bathroom, with a glass-enclosed shower, and his bedroom at the far end. It was open and bright with a large bed dressed in white and gray linens. He had a tall dresser and a small writing desk and a chair positioned against the far wall. It was here that I imagined him working on the finances for Ben and Emmy’s charity. Black-and-white photography prints were hung on the walls and a small throw rug was positioned at the foot of his bed. It was a lovely room, but I was hit with a pang of sadness that he was only just now sharing it.

  “Kitten?”

  My gaze lifted to him, pushing away the solemn thoughts. “It’s a beautiful place.”

  His frown lines deepened. “You don’t look well.” His hand raised to smooth down an unruly lock of hair. “You’re pale. Are you sure you feel okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. My stomach was turning somersaults, but that feeling was nothing compared to the uncertainty and sadness in my heart. “Maybe we could just go sit down.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  We returned to the living room and I slumped onto the sofa. The throw pillows smelled like him, and even though I’d wanted nothing more than to be here at his place, it now felt too intimate, too personal and I was too weak to handle all the emotions it caused.

  Braydon leaned over me and placed a palm against my cheek. “Hmm, you feel okay. Warm, but not overly so.”

  I blinked up at him. The journey across the city and the emotional backlash of finally being here had caught up with me. I needed a nap. I yawned.

  “I’m going to make you some homemade chicken noodle soup. That sound good?”

  I nodded, weakly. “Yes, thank you.”

  I dozed while he cooked and woke a short time later to the sounds of him moving about in the kitchen. I sat up, stretched, and ventured in to join him. The discarded remains of chopped carrots, celery, and onions sat on a nearby cutting board and a pot of soup was bubbling on the stove. Braydon glanced up from where he was stirring the concoction.

  “It’s almost ready. Just waiting for the noodles to become tender.”

  “Okay.”

  “Go sit. I’ll serve you.”

  “Do you have crackers?” I asked.

  “Sure do. I’ll bring them.”

  I smiled and went back to the couch to wait. A few minutes later, Braydon emerged carrying a bowl of steaming hot soup and a box of crackers.

  “Here, eat up. This was my mom’s recipe and she made it for me whenever I was sick.”

  “Thank you.” I started in on a cracker first, needing to test my stomach. It went down easily enough, so I moved on to the soup while Braydon supervised. “It’s delicious.” I could taste a hint of parsley and the warm broth was divine. I ate the entire bowlful.

  “More?” he asked.

  I shook my head. My belly was full for the first time in weeks. No need to tempt fate. I lay back and rested my head on the sofa.

  Braydon played with my hair and hummed quietly while I tried to relax.

  Opening my eyes several minutes later, I turned to face him. “Well, the soup was delicious, but I should probably get out of your way. I’m not going to be very good company tonight.”

  “Stop it. You’re not going anywhere. I invited you here because I wanted to spend time with you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why did you invite me over?” Today. Finally.

  “Because it was time. And you belong here with me.” His hand closed around mine and he gave it a squeeze. My heart pumped wildly in my chest. “And I didn’t invite you over for any funny business. I know I lost those privileges a while ago.”

  I looked down at our intertwined hands, thankful that he didn’t mention our slip-up in LA a few weeks ago. “So what do you propose we do then?” If I was feeling better, there would have probably been a hint of suggestiveness in my tone, but I truly felt too crummy.

  “We stay in tonight, and not because we’re hiding out here, but so you can take it easy and heal. We’ll watch a movie and get some more of that magic soup inside of you.”

  I wanted to make a quip about the soup being the only thing tonight that was getting inside me, but I was too weak and exhausted to even be funny. Sad day right there. “Okay,” I agreed. Honestly, a movie and cuddling with Bray sounded like the perfect evening. Much better than sulking alone in my apartment for the millionth time.

  Braydon pulled a woolly throw blanket from the back of the sofa and covered us both. “Come here, kitten. Lean on me.”

  I did as I was told. God, he felt perfect. This felt perfect. How did he not feel this between us? He lay down on the couch and pulled me closer, aligning our bodies until we were pressed nice and close. As great as this moment was, there was still a conversation we needed to have. I needed some answers about this puzzle of a man. I looked up and met his eyes, bringing my palm to his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here today.”

  “You’re welcome.” He closed his eyes, relaxing while my fingertips grazed lightly across his stubble.

  “Bray?”

  “Hmm . . .”

  “I have a few things I need to say.”

  His eyes slowly opened.

  I took a deep, fortifying breath to steady myself. “I know there are things in your past that are preventing you from moving forward. And I’m so glad you told me about your mom. It helps me understand things a lot better. But as for your ex, I just wanted to say whatever she did to you, I’m sorry. We can take things slow, do things your way.”

  He remained silently watching me and blinked twice. “Fuck.” That single word was his acknowledgment that I was right, and that I knew more than he realized. “What are you saying, exactly?”

  “That I accept you. And your past, and these flaws that make it impossible for you to have a relationship.”

  “You don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “Then tell me. Explain it to me,” I begged. I was here, in his apartment, and as far as I was concerned, there was no better place or time to have this discussion.

  “I already told you there was a girl.”

  “And? You’re no longer capable of relationships?”

  He frowned. “Not exactly, no.”

  I waited, holding my breath, hoping and praying he’d open up and explain it all to me finally.

  He licked his lips. “It’s just that my last relationship ended disastrously.”

  I listened silently as he opened himself up to me. We lay side by side on the sofa and Braydon told me a little more about the story he’d begun earlier—that his last girlfriend became unstable once he broke things off, and she began harassing him and his family. She couldn’t accept that things were over. That he couldn’t date in the public eye, because she’d harass the new girls he began seeing after her. I could only imagine how the stress of that, coupled with the loss of his mother, made him hesitant to enter into another serious relationship.

  “What finally happened, with the girl?” I pressed him. We hadn’t covered that last time.

  He shrugged. �
�She’s still not over me. I told you I have a restraining order against her. She sends long handwritten letters to my agency since she doesn’t know my address anymore. And she somehow showed up at a photo shoot of mine a few months ago and I had security remove her.”

  Oh my god. That was where I’d met Katrina.

  “She’s a stalker, basically.”

  “What’s her name?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “Kat.”

  Holy mother. “I-I know her. I mean, I-I met her . . .”

  His brows pinched together. “Where? How?”

  “At that photo shoot. The day I came, I met a girl there—she said she was a fan of your work, but later she admitted that you two dated. She said her name was Katrina.”

  “Shit,” he cursed and rose to his feet and began pacing in front of the sofa. “You spoke to her?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “You didn’t tell her anything about yourself or me—did you?”

  I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. “Well, um, sort of, but I had no idea that . . .”

  “Fuck!” he swore loudly and pushed his hands into his hair. “Ellie, this is important. Tell me what you told her.”

  “We met for a drink. We’ve texted . . . but it was all innocent, I swear.”

  “How could you do that, Ellie?”

  He continued pacing. “You know how private I am. Didn’t you think that maybe, just maybe, I had good reason for being so guarded?”

  I rose to my feet, standing directly in front of him. This wasn’t my fault. And I truly believed I hadn’t done anything wrong. “It’s not like I told her much—I didn’t even know where you lived until today. It was harmless girl talk, commiserating together over broken hearts. Not that I would expect you to understand that—your heart’s never been in this game.”

  The pulse in his neck was racing, and his eyes were blazing with anger, but Braydon remained silent.

  “You know what. Never mind. It was stupid to think coming here meant something.” I grabbed my purse and stuffed my feet into my shoes. “Good-bye Braydon.” I was out the door and in the elevator without a backward glance.

  19

  A few days later, I couldn’t ignore Braydon’s constant phone calls and texts any longer. I agreed to meet him for coffee at a central location.

  When I arrived, Braydon was already seated at a table by the front window with a mug in front of him and another that was for me, I presumed. Coffee had been too rough on my postflu stomach and I’d been avoiding it for several weeks now.

  I approached the table and Braydon rose to his feet. He looked tired. Still handsome as always, but dark circles ringed his eyes and the usual mischief sparkling in them was missing. “Thank you for meeting me.”

  I nodded. He wasn’t getting jack squat out of me. I was here. That was all.

  “I wanted to apologize, and explain everything to you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  He nodded, and fiddled with his coffee mug. “First and foremost, I’m sorry how I behaved. I overreacted. You did nothing wrong, and I see that now. I just . . . get a little tense thinking that Katrina is still, after all this time, trying to infiltrate my life, and used you to gain information.”

  I listened while he spoke, but something wasn’t sitting right with me. I thought of the girl I’d met and the sadness I’d seen in her eyes. “Did you ever consider that maybe she just needs closure from you?”

  He blinked at me several times. “What do you mean?”

  God, men . . . they could be so dense. “Like to hear from you why it ended, what went wrong, so she can accept it and move on from that time in her life . . .”

  He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

  “I think it might be.” I was probably taking a gamble, but something told me a little closure coming from Braydon himself could be exactly the thing to solve this. Only I had no idea if he’d be open to that. “Would you be willing to talk with her?”

  “Break my restraining order by voluntarily meeting with her?”

  I nodded.

  “Shit, Ellie. If you think it will work, why the hell not. But you’re going to be there for the conversation. I can’t be alone with her.”

  “Of course I am.” Something told me I’d likely be moderating the conversation between them. “Shall I text her? See if she’s free?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why the hell not?” He smirked.

  I dug out my phone and sent the text through. I debated whether or not to tell her she’d be facing Braydon, and in the end, decided to be honest, hoping she’d still agree to come.

  Me: Hey, are you free to meet now for coffee? I’m with Braydon. It’s important.

  Kat: Okay . . . I’ll come.

  “She’s on her way.”

  “Lovely,” Braydon murmured.

  I could tell he wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of facing his crazy ex-girlfriend right now, but I believed this could solve things once and for all between Braydon and his past. Which was really all I ever wanted.

  Soon Kat arrived, and the gleeful expression on her face when she spotted Braydon was slightly disconcerting.

  “Hey, Kat,” I greeted her with a one-armed hug and Braydon’s eyes widened. I didn’t think he was expecting that we were quite so close.

  “Um, hi. Hi, Braydon.”

  “Hello,” he returned coolly.

  “Would you like to grab some coffee?” Might as well be a good hostess since I’d arranged this awkward encounter.

  “I’m fine.” She sat down, joining us at the table so that she was seated directly across from me and Braydon.

  Somehow I found the right words to explain to them both, carefully, that a last meeting seemed to be in order and my goal was to help them move past the tension that still existed between them. Katrina looked hopeful . . . while Braydon looked slightly annoyed.

  Once I’d given my little speech, Katrina folded her hands on the table and stared up at Bray. “How have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  Braydon’s eyes locked with mine as if to say I told you so and he released a heavy sigh. “This has to stop, Kat. Why are you still doing this? Trying to contact me through my agency and now getting close to Ellie. It’s been two years.”

  Katrina swallowed and looked down, her poise faltering. “All I’ve ever wanted was to understand why.”

  “Why what?” Braydon asked.

  “Why things ended between us. I thought you loved me, but you started to become distant over time, going away on jobs and forgetting to call me when you landed, and eventually you just . . .” She stopped herself and took a deep, fortifying breath. “I want to know why I lost you.”

  Wow. Okay, now we were getting somewhere.

  “Fuck.” Braydon rubbed his hands across his face. “Because I was twenty-three years old at the time. Because I was immature. An asshole. Not at all ready to commit to one girl. And you wanted things from me I couldn’t give you.”

  Katrina continued to watch him and listen in silent fascination.

  “And there reached a point where I knew you were more serious about the relationship than I was. Once I broke things off, quite honestly your behavior worried me. Calling my parents’ house, questioning my dad about where I was. Breaking into my old apartment and staying there while I was traveling.”

  A cold chill zipped down my spine. I hadn’t realized how far Katrina’s odd behavior went.

  Braydon continued, “It wasn’t healthy. I thought cutting things off with you cold turkey and not stringing you along was for the best. But when you didn’t relent after a few months, my manager at the agency suggested the restraining order. He said he’d seen these types of things escalate before.”

  “Oh.” Katrina looked down at her hands. “I loved you. I just needed to understand what I’d done wrong. I needed closure. And to know you were okay.”

  My heart broke for her.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong when w
e were together,” Braydon’s tone softened. “I liked you a lot. I wouldn’t have dated you for eight months if I didn’t.”

  “It was nine months,” Katrina interjected.

  I watched the back-and-forth between them like a game of Ping-Pong. An extremely awkward and tense game of Ping-Pong.

  “Right. Nine months. But, you were ready for more, and I didn’t want to be tied down. We were at an impasse. So I figured it was best to move on.”

  “I see,” she said, her voice growing shaky. She looked like she might break down in tears, so I carefully placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  She blinked back tears and nodded. “Yes. This helps. A lot, actually.”

  I looked at Braydon. See, dumbass.

  “I spent the last two years wondering what I did wrong and wishing I knew what I could have changed,” Katrina said, braving a glance at Braydon once again.

  “Don’t change. I hate to be cliché and say it wasn’t you, it was me. But it’s true. You will find a man who loves you and wants all the things you do. I just wasn’t him.”

  She smiled weakly and nodded. “Wow, you sound like my mother. And you’re both right. It’s time to move on and open myself up to new possibilities.”

  I wrapped an arm around Katrina and gave her a hug. “Good luck.”

  “You guys, too.”

  Katrina left a few moments later, and I could see in her eyes that she needed to be alone, probably have herself a good cry. I hoped this experience had been cathartic for her. I could already feel the growth they’d both experienced, even if it hadn’t all sunk in yet.

  The mood between me and Braydon was somber as we left the coffee shop. Something between us had shifted and I wasn’t entirely sure what. I’d seen his past and been part of helping him work through some skeletons in his closet. I should have felt lighter, freer, but instead I just felt sad. Sad for Katrina that she’d wasted two years, sad for Braydon that he’d lived as a recluse after his last relationship went so wrong.

  I wondered why it took two years for them to have this conversation. But maybe the time was necessary. It provided time for emotions to cool and them both to be a little wiser and more mature to face the consequences of their actions. I was happy to help them solve it. It just still felt so senseless.