by E. K. Blair
“It was late Christmas night. We were lying down, and it just sort of happened. I don’t know. We just kissed, then we fell asleep together.”
“Well, how did you feel when you woke up?”
“Really confused. I mean, I know we’ve been hanging out a lot, but I feel like I don’t know a whole lot about him. And then everything Mark told me about all the girls started freaking me out.”
“But he told you he wants to be with you?”
“Yeah, we went to the beach, he just came out and told me, and then I agreed with him. We ended up sleeping together again. And then his mother was insinuating that he’s talked to her about me in the past, and that kinda intimidates me.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean? You know I have zero experience with this shit. I have no clue what I’m getting myself into. I have never felt this way about anyone before, and I’m scared.”
“What are you scared of?”
“Everything. He hasn’t done anything more than kiss me, but what happens when he wants to do something else? Knowing what Mark told me, I feel like I just can’t handle this. I’m scared he’s going to touch me, and then what?”
“Ryan doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would push you.”
“What? How do you know?”
“Because, he told me how he feels about you.”
“What?!” I squeal out. “When?!”
“He called me Christmas Eve to tell me what happened with your parents. He told me that he’s been having feelings for you for a while and wanted to know if he was wasting his time.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I thought he should tell you. But I told him not to fuck with you if he wasn’t serious, that you’ve been dealing with a lot, and that I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”
I’m shocked. My heart is racing, and I don’t know what to say.
“Candace?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“Don’t joke with me, Jase.”
“Because if I told you, you would have never let this happen. You would have completely shut him out, and you need to start living again.”
“I have been living.”
“You’ve been existing. There’s a big difference.”
His words cut into me. I can continue to make excuses, but I know he’s right. Tears well up in my eyes, and when I sniff, Jase is right there with me.
“Don’t cry, Candace.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know. But it’s okay to feel that way. You have to feel this. You have to start opening yourself up again.”
“Am I going to lose you?” Wow, that came out of nowhere. But, I have been thinking a lot about what will happen after this year. Plus he’s with Mark now. What if Mark gets a job out of state? Will Jase go with him? What if Jase gets a job out of state? And where will I get a job?
“Never. I promise.”
“I want you to come home.”
“Two more days. Don’t cry. It’ll be fine.”
“Okay.”
When I hang up the phone, I take a deep breath and pull myself together. I throw a load of laundry in and repack my bag before heading out to work. I try not to think too much about all the possible outcomes of what I am getting myself into. I like Ryan, and Jase’s reassurance gives me the push I need to move forward, to try to open up to him. That’s all I can really do—just try.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It’s a little past midnight when I pull into Ryan’s driveway. The lights are on up on the second floor. I grab my bag, walk to the side of the building, and up the flight of stairs that lead to his front door. I stand there for a while and think about what Jase told me earlier. Based on what he said, I shouldn’t be nervous about Ryan, but I am.
Aside from everything else, this is new to me. The guy I dated in high school hardly counts as a relationship. We barely even knew each other, and he didn’t care enough about me to really even pay much attention to me. It was a relationship of convenience; he served as a distraction from my home life, and that’s it. Aside from graduation night, we never had much of a physical relationship. I am completely inexperienced, and I know it. The fact that I am almost twenty-three makes it even more embarrassing.
I am startled when Ryan opens the door.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks.
“Umm, nothing. I was just about to knock,” I lie.
He takes my bag out of my hand and steps to the side so that I can come in. I walk to the living room but don’t sit. I stand like an idiot in the center of the room, not sure what I should be doing. I don’t know why I feel so awkward tonight. Ryan was right; we have spent the past two nights together, so why do I feel weird about a third? Maybe it’s because I am in his home. How many girls have been here? How many girls have slept in his bed? God, why am I even thinking about this?
He sets my bag down by the stairs that lead up to the third floor where his bedroom is, and starts walking toward me.
“Did you eat?”
“I did before I went to work.”
When he reaches me, he wraps his arms around my waist, and the touch alone is enough to relax me a little bit. I clasp my hands together behind his back and lean my forehead against his chest.
Kissing the top of my head, he says, “Better?”
“Mmm hmm,” I hum.
“Good. I’m wiped, what about you?”
“Yeah.” Driving back from Oregon and then having to work so late, I’m drained.
Taking my bag, we go upstairs to his room.
“The bathroom is right over there,” he says, and he points past his large closet.
Closing the door, I lay out my clothes and turn on the shower so that I can rid myself of the smell of coffee. That’s the downfall of working at a coffee shop: you leave work smelling like an old pot of coffee.
After drying my hair, taking my sleeping pill, and brushing my teeth, I walk back in the room at the same time Ryan is coming back upstairs holding two bottles of water.
“Here,” he says as he hands me one of the bottles.
“Thanks.”
Ryan wears a pair of pajama bottoms with no shirt, and when he crosses the room, I notice another tattoo that looks like scripted words that is inked on the side of his ribs. He walks over to the large king-sized bed and starts pulling back the covers. I hop up on the bed and slip under the sheets. Ryan sits next to me, leaning his back against the dark leather headboard. When he lifts his arm to wrap around me, I can finally make out the words of his tattoo:
pain is a reminder
you’re still alive
Laying my hand over it, I ask, “What’s this for?”
He looks down at my hand and says, “A reminder.” He takes my hand off the tattoo and holds it against his chest.
I then notice a jagged scar under the tattoo. I want to ask, but I don’t. When Ryan sees what I’m looking at he says, “Like I said, my dad was an asshole.” I shift my eyes to his when he begins talking again. “He was a drunk and liked to take his anger out on me and my mom. I took more of it than she did. The drunker he was, the worse it would get. He was like that for as far back as I can remember. It was all I knew. Then one night, I beat the shit out of him when he was wasted, and when he got in his car and left, he never came back. His car was found wrapped around a tree, and that was it. He was dead.”
I’m sure my eyes are filled with horror as I listen to him speak because he pulls me tight and comforts me instead of me trying to comfort him. I am speechless; I can only tighten my grip around him to let him know how I feel. How could I have droned on about how shitty my parents are? I’ve had it pretty good compared to what he had to grow up with. And Donna, God, I had no idea. She is such a wonderful person. My heart hurts for what they must have gone through.
“You’re the only one who knows that, outside of my mom and me,” he tells me. He is o
nly giving me more reasons to trust him.
“I feel really stupid. I’m so sorry about complaining about my parents.”
“Candace, you’re far from stupid. Your parents treated you like shit. They filled you full of misconceptions of yourself and fucked with your head. Anyone would be devastated. Don’t dismiss your pain because you don’t think it’s worthy. It is.”
Raking my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, I pull him down to kiss me. He slides down in the bed and hovers his body over me. He drags his lips from my mouth, across my cheek, and down my neck, taking little sucks along the way. I hold him close to me when he starts trailing kissing across my collarbone. Taking his face in my hands, I guide him back up to my lips. I begin to slip away to a place where nothing exists but us. His soft lips caress mine as we move at our slow pace. Taking one of my hands in his, he laces his fingers with mine and presses my hand into the mattress as I feel myself falling for him even more.
When Jase got back in town, we spent some much needed alone time together. Ryan has been busy this past week with work, and we haven’t had much time to hang out during the days. In the mornings, we have been running together. Aside from that, I’ve been in the studio almost every day and picking up extra shifts at work.
Somehow I let Jase and Ryan talk me into going to Ryan’s bar to hear Mark’s band play tomorrow night. Still nervous about the possibility of seeing Jack out one of these days, the fact that I’ll be there with Jase and Ryan was comforting enough for me to say yes.
Ryan is working late tonight, so Jase and I are spending the evening together at his place. After grabbing some tea and coffee at Peet’s on the ground floor of Jase’s apartment building, we head upstairs for the night.
Making ourselves comfortable on his couch, we talk for quite a while about Mark and Ryan. This is the first time that both of us have had boyfriends we can talk about, and I’m enjoying our newfound pastime for gossiping. But, the conversation takes a more serious tone when Jase asks, “Can you hear me out on something?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I know I’ve brought this up before, but I want to bring it up again because you seem to be in a better place now.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Have you thought about calling the detective from that night?”
“What? Why would I do that?”
“Because Candace, you know who did this, and the hospital has the evidence.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“What if he does this to someone else?”
“Drop it, Jase.”
“Candace, think about it. If he could do what he did to you . . .”
“I’m serious, Jase. Drop it.” My hands are shaking, and I cannot believe he even went there. Getting off the couch, I storm off to the bathroom and slam the door behind me. I have been trying so damn hard to not think about that night, and now when I close my eyes, I’m right back there. How could he do this to me? I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face, but the anger keeps coursing through me. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realize I’m crying, and when I see the tears, I get more pissed.
The door swings open, and Jase is standing there with guilt all over his face.
“What’s wrong with you?!” I scream at him.
“Shit, Candace, I had no idea,” he pleads. “I honestly thought you . . .”
“Would be over it by now?! I can’t. He won’t ever let me,” I sob out. “I can still feel his hands all over me, and I hate it.”
“God.”
“All I have ever asked is for you to drop it, and now you bring this shit up?! Now?!”
“I thought . . .”
“I just can’t. And God, Ryan would find out.”
“He doesn’t know?”
“No! He’ll never know. He can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d lose him. He’d run away. Who would want me?”
“You have to tell him.”
“No, I don’t. This is my secret, and I plan to keep it that way.”
“Candace, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” His voice is hurt, and I feel horrible for blowing up at him like that.
“I’m sorry,” I say then hug him. “I’m sorry.”
“I never thought you’d be over it; I know you better than that. I just thought that you’d be in a little bit of a better place.”
“Can we just forget about it?”
“Of course. Forgotten.”
I decide to call it a night. Jase wanted me to spend the night, but I really need some space.
Seth’s car is parked out front when I get home. As I walk past it, I notice for the first time that he has Greek letters on his back window; the same Greek letters of Jack’s fraternity.
Oh my god.
Does Kimber know this? She’d almost have to know. I start to panic a bit, wondering if she’s talked to Jack, and if so, what was said. Did he say anything about me?
I feel uncomfortable when I walk in and see Kimber and Seth watching a movie in the living room. I quickly walk through the room. Kimber doesn’t say anything; she simply sits on the couch and looks at me when I walk to my room. This tension with Kimber hurts and the fact that Jase and I just had an argument, when we never argue, has me emotionally exhausted. God, I hate this.
Ryan seemed excited this morning on our run that I was finally going to come by his bar and hang out. After everything that happened with Jase last night, I am more apprehensive than ever, but I stuff it down deep because I know Ryan wants me at the bar with him tonight.
He’s already there—he’s been working all afternoon—and Mark drove with Chasten, the drummer, for a quick sound check. So, I’m getting ready and hanging out with Jase. The tension between us has dissipated and neither one of us mentions our fight.
Sliding my black boots on over my jeans, I say, “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Finally,” Jase teases as we start to head out.
I pull my hooded black raincoat over my plum satin swing top and lock the door behind me. When we get in the car, I text Ryan to let him know we are on our way.
“Mark is really excited that you’re coming tonight.”
“I feel bad that I’ve missed all of his shows,” I say.
“Don’t. He gets it.”
Jase turns in down an alley, and I give him a look as he says, “We’re parking in the back employee lot.”
As we drive around the building, I’m surprised at the size. I had no idea he owned a place this big. Although it’s dark and rainy out, I can see that the front lot and side streets are lined with cars.
Jase turns the car into a small empty spot in the back. When I get out and turn around, away from the car, my heart freezes—I can’t breathe.
Holy shit.
I zone in on the blue chipped paint. I see those chips that expose the dark metal underneath almost every day. I’d know them anywhere.
When I take a step back, the heel of my boot snags on a divot in the asphalt and I trip, falling on my bottom. I begin to panic when I hit the ground. All I see is that dumpster, and I can’t get up fast enough.
I can’t even hear Jase as I see his lips move as he squats in front of me. Quickly, I pull myself up and Jase follows, grabbing my shoulders, he puts me back in the car. I lower my head to my knees and begin to sob uncontrollably.
When Jase gets in the car, I start screaming, “Get me out of here! Go! Get me out of here!”
He doesn’t say a word as he starts the car. I sit up, with sobs wracking me. I’m still screaming when I see the back door open, and Ryan comes out. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the shock in his face as I’m crying and screaming at Jase to drive.
He rips out of the parking lot as I hear Ryan yelling my name.
Covering my face with my hands, I continue to wail.
Jase pulls the car into a gas station and throws th
e car in park. Getting out, he comes around to my side, opens my door, and kneels down beside me.
“Candace, I need you to breathe. Calm down, okay?”
But I can’t. That night keeps replaying in my head. That dumpster. Jack ripping off my clothes. Digging my nails in the asphalt, trying to get away. It all flashes through me.
“Candace, look at me. What’s wrong?”
Letting my head fall in my hands, I say, “That’s the alley. That’s the alley Jack . . .” I still can’t bring myself to say that word, but no words are needed when Jase pulls me into him and holds me.
“Oh God,” he mutters over and over as I cry.
My sobs begin to weaken, and fatigue overcomes me. I release my hold on Jase and fall back into the seat, thoroughly drained and exhausted.
“Let me take you back to my place, okay?”
My eyes sting from the mixture of tears and makeup, so I keep them closed and nod my head.
Walking into Jase’s apartment, I head straight to his bedroom and lay my head on his pillow. My head is pounding, and my body is weak. Jase lies down next to me and holds me.
“What can I do?” he asks hopelessly.
“Just make it go away,” I mumbled. If only he could, I just might have a fighting chance to be myself again. Instead I lie here, as I have so many times before: pathetic, weak, and broken.
Letting out a sigh of defeat, he tells me, “I wish I could. I would. I would do anything to take this away from you.”
I know that he would too, but hearing the pain in his voice brings on another slew of tears.
We both jump when there is a loud pounding on his door. I sit up when Jase gets out of bed.
“Stay here,” he says as he shuts the bedroom door behind him.
I soon hear Ryan’s loud voice demanding to know where I am and Jase yelling at him to give me space, when the door suddenly opens.
Still crying, I look up at Ryan, and he gently closes the door behind him and rushes over to the side of the bed where I am sitting. Kneeling between my legs, he holds firmly onto my knees. I hate seeing the pain and confusion in his eyes. I continue crying and repeating, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m . . .”
Grabbing me behind my back, he slides me off the edge of the bed and onto the floor with him. “What happened, babe?”
