Let Loose for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  The tears well up quickly, suddenly falling one at a time, the longer I watch him.

  He rocks back onto the heels of his feet, a cold air surrounding us. “And I can’t find the bastard responsible. At this point, I don’t even know what I’d do if I did.”

  Scratching his chin, he turns and heads for the door.

  I’m frozen in place, his words hitting me in the gut like I’m a punching bag, and he just took the hardest swing he could muster. His sister was killed? And he doesn’t know who did it?

  I thought my heart was broken before, but it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling at this moment. The agony he must be in is unimaginable.

  I watch after his retreating form, his jeans slung low with his hands in his pockets. The door slams behind him, snapping me out of my stupor.

  “Don’t run away from me, damn it,” I call out and chase after him, not caring that people are staring.

  He laughs once I’m outside, but it’s not amusing. It’s sadistic and dark, his words a little slurred from what I assume to be too much tequila. “You think because your dumbass ex cheated on you that you understand pain? That’s nothing. You’re obviously better without him. I’m not better without Charlie. So don’t try to tell me what to do or use your high school drama to ‘relate’ to me.” He swipes the corners of his mouth, his eyes frowning. “I know all the fucking tricks in the book, but they haven’t helped in over thirteen years.”

  I flinch at his words, but then remind myself he needs someone to lash out at. To take his pain. There are only a handful of people walking about the parking lot, nothing surrounding us but the night sky and devastation. As we stand facing each other, I realize I’ll gladly be his punching bag if it’s what he needs. If it will help him see he’s not alone. If it’ll help him move on.

  Not for me or us.

  For him.

  “Give me your keys. You can’t drive in this condition.”

  He curses, turning in a circle, his body a mixture of rigid and deflated, warring against us. And my heart breaks even more. Everything breaks for this beautiful man with so much resentment and sadness plaguing his very being.

  Wiping another tear away, I let my shoulders slump. “I don’t know what you’re going through, no. And I’m not trying to pretend I do. That’s not what this is about or why I’m here. I’m here because no matter what happened between us, I care about you. I care so much, and it hurts to see you like this.”

  His expression softens as my voice cracks.

  A shiver runs down my spine as he watches my lips like he’s reading them instead of listening to the words. “If you need someone to take it out on, someone to be your punching bag, I’ll gladly sign up. I can’t change what happened with your sister, but maybe I can change what happens to you.” I let my words sink in before I straighten my back and spread my arms. “So take as many punches as you need. Yell if you need to. Throw shit, if that’s what it takes. I’ll—”

  “Stop…”

  “—take it. Let me take some of it away.”

  “Don’t do this.”

  I step closer, tears streaming down my cheeks, and hold his face between my hands. He closes his eyes, and before I can say anything else, he kisses me, threading his fingers through my hair, crushing my body to his.

  He tastes of tequila and excruciating grief.

  His kiss turns harsh and punishing.

  Turning my body toward the car, he presses himself against me, and I wrap my arms around him.

  We can’t get close enough.

  Before I know it, I’m driving us to his apartment. The angry tension crackles between us like the earth is trembling.

  During the short ride there, he holds my hand, gripping it so tightly it goes numb, but I don’t care.

  His tight grip feels like he’s transferring some of his hurt and bitterness to me.

  And when we reach his apartment, we still don’t share words. The door is barely closed and locked before he’s stripping me of all my clothes, his fingers grazing my bare skin like I’m an art piece in a museum he’s not supposed to touch.

  My eyes flutter closed, relishing his heady kisses.

  He discards my clothes, piece by piece.

  I promised myself I would never be this intimate with Ty again, not after he hurt me, but if this is what he needs to know he’s not alone, that his life is worth living, I’ll give myself to him over and over again until he understands there’s someone else out there who cares about him.

  Because I do.

  I care so much that I’ll likely never get over him, and in this moment, with his kisses and movements laced in more pain than alcohol, I don’t want to.

  Because I sense that he cares too.

  I wouldn’t have thought he did last week or even yesterday.

  But I know it’s true when he looks at me with wide eyes and appreciation through his turmoil. When he pulls me down onto the bed, bare and needy.

  When he worships my body from my lips to my wet heat.

  This isn’t just a fling for him. It never was for either of us, but we pretended in order to protect ourselves.

  Until we exploded.

  I whimper when his hands grip my hips, as his tongue licks around my nipple, then travels up my chest to my neck until he covers my lips with his. When he pushes a finger inside me, I cry out as a wave of pleasure overwhelms me.

  “That’s it.” Ty grunts, then mumbles, “That’s what I missed.”

  My body goes limp, exhausted from the work of his mouth and fingers. I don’t think I’ll be able to continue.

  As if reading my mind, he tsks, licks his lips, then pulls down his pants. “We’re just getting started, Em.”

  I wish that were true.

  That we were just getting started and ready to bloom.

  But when he thrusts inside me, his movements are beautifully harsh as he hovers over me, letting me share in his pain. It doesn’t feel like the beginning of anything for us.

  He remains standing, holding my legs around his waist, pumping in and out of me. He strokes my hair softly, then roughly tugs on it.

  Our gazes are trained on each other. We’re memorizing all of this. Because we may not have a future, but we have this moment. This special moment inside these gray walls that’s only for us.

  When he’s close, he pulls me against his chest, then bites my shoulder before placing a kiss there, a new pleasure I didn’t know I’d enjoy, but I do.

  I bring his lips to mine, kissing him, as a lone tear falls down my cheek. He picks up speed, the sensation of everything he’s doing and all he’s giving me almost too much to bear.

  Fisting my hair in his large hand, he tugs harder and harder the closer he gets to release, and I know I’ll have bruises and a headache in the morning. But it won’t matter. I gladly accept them if it means he finds some semblance of peace, even if just for one night.

  Maybe it’ll be enough for him to really try moving on.

  He pulls almost all the way out and thrusts deep inside me one last time before groaning in pleasure. We stay like this for a few minutes, my hand idly stroking his back.

  And when I hear him sniffling, his hot tears on my bare chest, my heart breaks the rest of the way through. Right in half.

  To have a man like Ty—thick yet tender—crying in my arms is something I never thought I’d experience.

  His suffering is something I’ll never understand. He was right about that.

  But this? His soft sniffles and tears are the most devastating combination to me, and it makes my feelings for him grow stronger.

  I hold him tighter, my legs still wrapped around his body, him still inside me.

  I don’t know at what point he gets out of bed, and the bathroom light is turned on.

  We’re silent until we finally fall asleep.

  No words.

  They’re not necessary. Because Ty and me? Our actions have always spoken louder than any of those. And right now, the thunderous beatin
g of my heart against his chest tells us both that I’ve fallen completely in love with him.

  The next morning, I stretch my arms above my head. Light rays sneak through the blinds, waking up the world. I wonder about the people outside these walls, the ones who carry on with their lives, every day exploring new adventures and opportunities, while Ty’s world remains immobile.

  His world stopped spinning over thirteen years ago when his sister was killed.

  “Thirteen years of searching for the person responsible,” he said last night as he squeezed me tight. “But they came up empty time and time again.”

  I turn around to kiss him but find the bed empty. The kitchen and living room and bathroom are all empty, and his toothbrush and travel bag he leaves by the door are gone too.

  No smell of coffee or pancakes.

  No note.

  No text or call.

  There’s no sign of him.

  And just like that, my world stops spinning too.

  CHAPTER 46

  Ty

  Setting my foot firmly in place, I hoist myself up, then repeat the motions as sweat runs down my back. I climb higher and higher, and my breathing becomes more difficult, not because of the elevation but because of what I left down below.

  I couldn’t sleep last night, knowing I’m doing Emma a disservice by dragging her down with me.

  I swallow the lump in my throat, walking and climbing, the red rocks jagged and uneven. Other hikers are behind me, studying a map, which they then stuff in their backpacks.

  I’d give anything, wait until a boulder fell on my arm, then saw it off like the guy in 127 Hours, to be a tourist like them. To be a tourist here instead of chained to its prison.

  I left for college but ended up right back here because I feel close to her here.

  All the memories of Charlie are here.

  When I reach the top, I inhale deeply, placing my hands above my head. My breaths are visible this early in the morning. Although it’s foggy, I can still make out the Strip. The tall buildings, the dim twinkling lights, the busy corner of the world it takes up with desert and mountains surrounding it.

  From up here, at the top of Red Rock Canyon, Vegas looks small. I can hold it between my thumb and forefinger. It doesn’t seem scary or intimidating at all like some might think.

  Leo brought Sebastian and me up here when we first joined Naked Heat. We’ve come up here several times with Jordan, Raf, and others as a bonding experience. We choked on our protein shakes back then when Leo gave his brotherhood speech, but it was special. This place is special.

  Usually, anyway.

  Now all I can think about is how badly I fucked up. With Sebastian moving and getting married, Leo potentially retiring, and now leaving Emma, I’m alone. I’m alone with tourists surrounding me—people I’ll never see again.

  That used to offer me comfort.

  But now I’ve seen the good in this world thanks to the guys and Emma, and the thought of being alone makes my heart sink.

  Taking a seat off to the side, I eat my protein bar and rattle my protein shake in the shaker. I take a sip and notice a couple, their hands intertwined, smiles on their faces. I smile too, thinking of Emma. Her soft skin yet toned muscles. Her body tight and needy while she’s with me.

  Her smile, the rare but beautiful sight.

  My stomach rolls as I force the rest of my protein bar down.

  I’ve done this hike many times in the past. I’ve come up here alone, without the guys, and every time, I’ve looked over the edge, straight to the ground miles below, and thought about jumping. How much easier it would be to not feel this gut-wrenching pain anymore.

  The relief.

  When I met Emma, so much of that pain dissipated like water into oxygen.

  But like oxygen, my pain still exists, even if people can’t always see it. And at this point, I need it to survive. I don’t know how else to be.

  I don’t know how to be happy.

  The couple giggles, pulling me out of my dark thoughts. They attempt to take pictures using a selfie stick with the expansive view behind them.

  “Need some help?” I offer.

  The young woman nods with enthusiasm. “Sure! Thank you so much. He’s terrible with the camera.” She points at the guy standing next to her, teasing him while he laughs along with her.

  “Guilty.” He shrugs.

  I take his phone from him to snap the shot, but the woman holds up her hands. “Wait! Let’s use the Polaroid.” Then she turns to me, her expression pleading like she’s asking me for a kidney. “Do you mind? It’s for my scrapbook.”

  Of course it is, I smile to myself. They seem like scrapbookers, filling pages with memories of trips, probably two kids and a dog, and a house with a porch where they all read or some shit.

  My chest squeezes tighter as I hold the Polaroid camera up and take a picture. It buzzes, releasing the picture, which they ooh and aah over.

  “Have a good time, you guys.” I wave to them and begin my descent.

  “Thank you!” they say in unison, and before I turn around, I take one last peek at them, their arms wrapped around each other, facing the view.

  Partners, that’s what they are. Partners in this life, something I never had.

  My sister was my partner in a different way for most of my life, and losing her was so excruciating, I’ve never tried to find another, in any form.

  Visiting her grave a few weeks ago brought all the horrid memories back, as it does every year. This one’s no different.

  My mom’s hollow eyes.

  My dad’s dark creases in his forehead.

  We took flowers and set them next to a bouquet of daffodils, my sister’s favorite. They were from Naomi, no doubt. I didn’t see her and haven’t spoken to her since the night she visited.

  I gulp, a lump in my throat the size of these rocks. Emma deserves someone like that guy up there, taking pictures and holding her hand as they go on adventures.

  She doesn’t need someone like me who makes her cry.

  I watched her all night. Her steady breathing normally calmed me, but now made me angry that I’m being so selfish. I want her to find a nice guy to settle down with. The one with a suit and stable job. The one she can have kids with.

  That’s what she deserves, and even though she thinks she wants me now, I’ll be too much to handle. I’ve already shown her I’m too much.

  “Hey, are you that guy?” A tall brunette with her hair tied back in a scrunchy stops me, her purple nails bright. “You are, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry?” I pull my backpack up higher on my back, letting the breeze cool off the sweat pooling there.

  “From the show the other night—Naked Heat.” She turns to wave at two girls behind her. “Hey, come on!”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m Ty.” I smile politely.

  “Janay.” She juts her hip out, tilting her head to the side.

  When her friends catch up, one’s jaw drops. “You’re that guy from Naked Heat.” She swipes at her hair, then fans herself, giving me a once-over. “Holy fuck.”

  “Yep.” Again, I smile, this one more forced. “Listen, it was great running into you ladies, and thanks for coming to the show. Enjoy your hike.”

  “Wait.” Janay stops me. “Let’s take a picture.”

  The third girl bites her lip, her blush evident and not from the hike. I softly exhale, hoping they don’t hear the exasperation in my voice. This isn’t uncommon around here. Our show is the hottest one in town.

  And while I’d usually get a girl like Janay’s number before walking away, I don’t have it in me to ask. Or flirt. Or even pretend.

  Because I was with someone real and honest last night. I had her writhing beneath me, offering herself up to relieve my overwhelming pain.

  Emma loves me.

  She never said it out loud, but last night, I felt it. I felt it in every tear she shed, and it scared me so bad I ran away.

  Once we take the picture,
I nod to them. “Have a great day, ladies.” I don’t wait for a response. I continue jumping down rocks and essentially run back to my car.

  I want to run to Emma. I want to sweep her up into my arms and tell her over and over again that I love her too, that I can’t go on without her.

  But as I descend, I feel Janay’s gaze on me, her lust obvious even from several yards away. This is the kind of guy I am.

  Emma and I wouldn’t be the scrapbooking kind of couple. We wouldn’t sit around a fire reading and discussing the news.

  I’d be stopped by other women eye-fucking me and wanting pictures.

  They’d flirt. They’d likely touch my ass.

  Emma got upset when this happened during my set; she definitely wouldn’t be able to handle it outside of it.

  Even if I wasn’t so fucked up about my sister, this side of me would ruin Emma.

  I don’t deserve her.

  I don’t deserve her forgiveness, let alone her forever.

  CHAPTER 47

  Emma

  At the Shawarma restaurant, I take a seat in a booth and wait for Kendall. She’s late, of course, but by this point, I’m used to it and don’t message her.

  Instead, I open my Instagram, and the first thing I see is a picture of Ty shirtless by the pool. Grinding my teeth, I turn my phone off, angry at him for making me miserable.

  We haven’t spoken since that night in his apartment. When I almost told him I loved him. How stupid that would’ve been.

  If it wasn’t for social media or Kendall and Sebastian letting me know he’s alive, I would’ve thought Ty drank himself into a coma. But according to his best friend, Ty has been drinking a lot but responsibly, at least. He makes it to practice on time and hangs with his friends. He performs better than ever, even.

  Every piece of Sebastian’s information is a twist of a knife in my chest.

  I’m happy Ty’s okay and doing well—I want nothing but good things for him—but the selfish part of me hates he’s doing it all without me.