Let Loose for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  “I knew you’d love it,” she says.

  They giggle while I go unnoticed. Crossing my arms, I watch their interaction and try to figure out where along the line they became friends. I’ve missed so much.

  I don’t want to miss out on anything else.

  I want to be there for Emma. Sure, I’ll stumble here and there and fall into dark patterns, but I’m finally ready for the first time since my sister died to really move forward.

  Once there’s a pause, I ask Tarryn how she’s been doing. We weren’t in each other’s lives for long, but I met her at just the right time when she needed someone to talk to.

  “Good,” she says, a blush staining her cheeks. “I have to thank you for everything, Ty. You really helped me. I even met someone. We’ve only been out twice, but it’s nice to get back out there again.”

  I smile at Tarryn. “Glad to hear that. It most certainly is worth it to get back out there,” I say, meeting Emma’s gaze.

  Once we reach Emma’s apartment, I hold her hand, ready to explain everything. “Nothing happened between Tarryn and me.”

  Her lips twitch in the corners before she brushes past me and throws her keys onto the entryway table.

  “She was in a bad place when I met her, and I could relate. We only talked. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” I shrug, suddenly shy for what I’m about to say, but I say it, anyway. “I guess I liked seeing you jealous.”

  “I know.”

  “You know I like you being jealous?”

  “I know you didn’t hook up with her. She told me.”

  “Right. You two are besties now.” I chuckle, reaching out to cup her cheek, but I stop, unsure of where we stand.

  “As far as me being jealous, I wasn’t… okay, I was.” She turns toward the kitchen, rubbing her neck.

  And I continue smiling like an idiot because of her admission. She was so adamant back then that she didn’t have feelings for me, and it’s nice to know I’m right.

  She whirls back around, all smiles gone. “What do you mean you could relate, though? Because of your sister?” Her voice drops to a whisper, like she’s unsure if it’s okay to mention my sister.

  Like I might burst into a rage of fire if she does.

  I take her hands in mine, delicately trying to broach this topic but not knowing where to begin. For so long, I avoided all conversations about my sister, except with the ones who knew her. Somehow, it made it easier to talk about her because to them, she was real. They knew her laugh and the way she flipped people off when they called her Charlotte instead of Charlie.

  But I want to talk about her with Emma. I was a dumb fuck to think I couldn’t talk to her in the first place. “Ever since you came to art class with me, I’ve wanted to tell you about her, but I wasn’t ready.”

  “And now? You don’t have to—”

  “I want to,” I say softly. “My sister… she was strong. Independent. She had big dreams of becoming an artist, so she moved to New York about a year before she died.” I rub my hands together for strength, and with a deep breath, I continue. “She was my best friend before she was taken from me.”

  Emma holds my hand and leads me to the couch. Sitting us both down, she doesn’t let go.

  “She was killed in a convenience store robbery,” I continue, my voice cracking. “Wrong place, wrong time. No other reason. She was there getting coffee and snacks for her and Naomi, who was supposed to be with her but was running late. They were pulling an all-nighter to study for their first exam of the semester. Her Spring Break was a few weeks after that. My parents and I had planned to visit her, but… she didn’t make it.”

  Tears well in Emma’s eyes—they match my own.

  I clutch my chest, letting my tears loose for my sister. I let myself feel the pain completely without numbing it with booze and women. I let it consume me more than I have since I met Emma, forcing myself to tell her the whole story so she might truly be able to understand me. I want her to know me, and that involves my sister.

  “She was shot, along with two others, but they survived. She was killed instantly. Alone, across the country, by a fucking thug, who probably hasn’t once thought about her or the lives he ruined. He didn’t leave behind any evidence. Covered from head to toe, for the most part. One survivor said he had a small tattoo on his neck, but he couldn’t make it out before he blacked out.” I rub my hand down my tear-streaked face. My focus is on nothing in particular as the final statement leaves my lips, my mind full of images of the policemen at our doorstep the night they brought the news. “He was never caught.”

  A small gasp escapes when she hears the last part. Tears fall down Emma’s face, and she squeezes my hand.

  “The first three years, I held out hope that they’d find the guy who did this. It was the only thing we had to hold on to. But no accusation stuck. No one saw his face. No one knew anything, and if they did, no one was talking.” I rub my temple with my free hand, haunted by the idea of my sister lying in a convenience store soaking in her own blood. The thought haunts me every day. “We never got any closure or justice or peace of mind. And still, I walk around here, wondering what would’ve happened had I stopped her from moving to New York. If I’d begged her to stay with me like I wanted her to.”

  “Don’t…” she whispers, her knuckles white from her grip on me. “You can’t do that to yourself.”

  “Now I have to live my life knowing the fucker’s free. He could be anywhere. The first few years, I went to New York every chance I got. I saw him in every face I passed. Every tourist in Vegas, even. Every guy. Until I blurred out every single face with whiskey and tequila. Until I was living my life on autopilot.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ty. I don’t know what to say.”

  I kiss the side of her head, my throat clogged with so many emotions. I feel like I’m about to explode. Like I can’t breathe. There’s nothing to say now. It’s out in the open. There are no more secrets between us, except for one.

  “What you saw with Naomi, was old friends saying goodbye, I swear. Even though I wasn’t ready for something serious, I’d never do anything to hurt you.” She shakes her head like this isn’t important, but I need to tell her. She needs to know who I was before and that she doesn’t have to worry about Naomi.

  She doesn’t have to worry about anyone.

  “I need you to know this. I need you to know I’m not like your ex.” My voice is strained as I force the words out. Another flood of her tears escapes as she squeezes her eyes closed, but I continue. “It was only a goodbye,” I repeat. “Naomi was my sister’s best friend. She took her death really hard, almost as hard as I did, but her guilt eats at her. She was supposed to meet my sister and still wonders if things would be different had she been on time. If she’d stopped to get their coffee and snacks at a different store like she was supposed to. So many what-ifs.”

  Emma nods, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. Her eyes are red and sorrowful, sharing in my pain like it’s her own. And my chest swells for her. She may not have known my sister, but it feels… freeing. To talk about Charlie with Emma feels right, even. Like she cares so much about me that she gets it.

  “I never moved on,” I whisper, realizing how thick the fog has been over my life like a cloud full of water. And like that cloud, I’ve always felt I’d get caught in a thunderstorm with no way out.

  But maybe there’s a way to soften the blow with Emma as my ray of sunshine.

  “I don’t think that’s something you move on from. It sounds like something you exist with, as part of you.”

  I take her hand in both of mine, then kiss her knuckles, her soft skin welcoming.

  She sighs with what I believe is contentment. I kiss her palm, then the inside of her wrist. She’s so soft and warm, her coconut scent wrapping around me like it’s welcoming me back into her life—home.

  She inhales sharply when I gaze up at her, her green eyes still sad from my past. I cup her cheek, my hand so large in compari
son, and I kiss her. Slowly at first, to make sure she knows it’s okay. I’m okay.

  I swipe my tongue along her bottom lip.

  My hands move to her hair and tug.

  I need her to know I’m here with her. That I’m hurting, but she makes the hurt dissipate.

  She moans, then scoots onto my lap so she’s straddling me, her hands frantic for me. They move to my shoulders and down my chest. I feel her fingertips through my shirt, and my body tenses, hardening for her.

  She pulls back abruptly, making me lean forward. “Thank you for sharing with me. I know it must’ve been difficult for you to… difficult for you to live with that every day.” She gulps, her lips trembling like she’s going to cry again.

  And I don’t want her to. I want her to laugh with me, like we used to, before I fucked it all up.

  I even want her to curse at me while she trips me.

  But this time, it’s all real. Nothing to hold us back with everything in the open.

  I run my thumb along her bottom lip, nodding at her words.

  “I didn’t know your sister,” she whispers, her gaze never leaving mine. “I’m not part of your past…”

  I close my eyes, resting my head on hers. “No, you’re not. And you didn’t know her. It was something I used to hold against people through no fault of their own. I wish you would’ve known her, but I’m starting to see that maybe it’s okay you didn’t.”

  She tilts her head to the side in confusion, her adorable lips pouting.

  I kiss her knuckles, then nip on her pinky, unable to stop myself from touching this woman. How I ever thought I could let her go is beyond me.

  Holding her hands to my chest, I make her listen to me. “My sister and all who knew her are reminders of my past. I’m grateful for them. I have a connection to her now that she’s gone, but they’re also reminders of what I lost. But you? You remind me of my future. Of all I could have. You show me all I have to live for.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut, and more tears fall. I wipe them as fast as I can, my heart breaking at the sight of her tears. But also piecing itself together with the possibilities of us.

  She crushes her lips to mine like she’s thinking the same, then tugs at my shirt, swiftly pulling it off. Running her hands down my bare chest, she scoots closer, melting into me. I rest my head on the back of the couch, holding her close.

  My tongue dives into her mouth, exploring every inch of it as my hands cup her breasts firmly.

  I’m just about to rip her shirt from her body when there’s a knock on the door, so loud it’s like a judge’s gavel—strong and final as it interrupts our reunion. Our blissful reunion that I’ve been wanting for months and not allowing myself to have.

  We pull apart, her chest heaving and lips swollen. “Pumpkin? You in there?” someone says from out in the hall.

  “Who is that?”

  “Shit,” she mutters, climbing off of me, and throws my shirt in my direction. “Just a minute!” she calls toward the door, scrambling to the mirror above her entryway table. She smooths her ponytail down, then swipes at her smudged lipstick. “Shit.” She turns around to me like she just remembered I’m still here.

  I get up and stand next to her, fully clothed. “Who is that?”

  “Um…” She wipes her hands down her legs, biting her lip. “It’ll be fine. Just smile and act normal.” She says it more to herself than to me, but I go along with it.

  She pulls the door open wide, and on the other side is an older man in a bright plaid shirt and solid blue tie. He’s tall and thin with jet black hair. His wide smile adds crinkles to the corners of his eyes and is so animated when he greets us, he should be on a kid’s Disney show.

  “Surprise!” he says, holding his arms out.

  I stand back as he pulls her into a hug. She slowly and hesitantly pats him on the back, which makes me laugh. She really doesn’t like hugs, except from me. “Dad… what a surprise, indeed.”

  “How’s my pumpkin? Have you been working out hard or what? Your arms look stronger than ever.” He makes a show of squeezing her bicep and pulls back like it burned him. “Look out!”

  I can’t contain my laughter at the scene. I try hiding behind one hand, crossing the other over my chest. His gaze falls on me for the first time. “Hiya, son.”

  Emma stands between us, her face twisted in uncertainty, but she grips my hand and introduces me. “This is Ty. Ty, this is my dad, Harold.”

  “Hello, sir. Great to meet you.” I shake his hand with my free one. Emma has a strong grip of my other like she’s seeking comfort in me. I smile harder at that, thankful she needs me. That I can be here to buffer the tension between them.

  “Well, Ty, it’s fantastic to meet you. So happy when I can meet Pumpkin’s friends.” He squeezes Emma’s shoulder, then grips me by mine, his expression now serious. “Or are you more than friends? Are you dating, perhaps? Because if so…” He pauses. Then his brows shoot upward, and his smile reappears. “We need to celebrate! Do you like hibachi, Ty? Emma took me to a great little place the last time I visited. Gosh, what was the name of that? It’s been a couple years.”

  “Yes, it has.” She gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Dad, why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll get you a drink. How’s tea sound? Or maybe a Coke Zero?”

  “A little soda would be just peachy. Your stepmother doesn’t allow sodas in the house, so this will be a treat. An added little bonus on top of seeing you.”

  She nods, her eyes bulging out of her head. As she pulls me toward the kitchen, I look back and forth between them, noticing the subtle similarities in their mannerisms. Other than the same dark hair, they physically don’t favor each other, with her pale skin to his tan, her bright green eyes to his brown, and her shorter height to his tall.

  Yanking me down by my shirt, she drops her voice to a whisper and opens the refrigerator door, using it as a shield. “You don’t have to stay. He and I can go to lunch together alone. Then you and I can meet up later.”

  “I’d like to go.” I shrug almost sheepishly. “I’d like to get to know him.”

  “Really?”

  I cup her cheek. “I’m in this. I’m here. I’m not leaving you again.”

  She gulps, her eyes filled with tears, and I wonder if she believes me. But even if she doesn’t, I’ll convince her one way or another.

  Because I meant what I said. I’m not leaving this woman again.

  CHAPTER 52

  Emma

  “I don’t know why I let you drag us out.” I shake my head, rolling my eyes at Ty’s shaking form. “Let’s go.”

  “No way.” Ty snorts. “I need to hear the end of this story.”

  My dad wipes at his mouth, obviously trying to contain himself. He’s so enthused about telling the story of when I was eight you’d think it was yesterday. “She wore a crown for a whole week. I almost gave her a bell too, to ring when she needed us lowly servants,” he says sarcastically, then smiles at me. “But she’d broken her ankle. I would’ve done anything to make her feel better.”

  I force a smile, remembering that period when I couldn’t walk. Couldn’t dance. We had a dance competition coming up, and I couldn’t participate. So, I did anything possible to make myself feel better. Even wore a stupid crown from one of my pageants. It sparkled and made me feel magical.

  But it didn’t keep my mind off the fact that I couldn’t dance. Dancing was my outlet. Even at eight, I’d needed it, and the reason why is what my dad is now leaving out. His and Mom’s arguments gave me anxiety. Dancing helped me cope.

  I don’t call him out on it. I don’t say anything. Instead, I stuff a forkful of salad into my mouth.

  “Sounds to me like nothing’s really changed.” Ty bows in his seat with a smile on his face. “We’re not worthy. We’re not worthy.”

  He then squeezes my hand, like he’s trying to emphasize that he’s not worthy of me, but he wants to try.

  Because that’s how badly he wants me.
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br />   I inhale deeply, considering my options, but my dad being here threw me for a loop. It’s not my birthday or a special occasion. It’s not his birthday, either. He’s never surprised me like this, so I can’t help but be on edge wondering what he might be doing here.

  When I saw him a few months ago during my brief visit over the holidays, he never mentioned anything was wrong, but the dread grows the longer we’re here.

  “So tell me, Pumpkin, what’ve you been up to? How’s the yoga studio? I follow you on the Instagram now too, and I have to say, it’s really something. You’ve done quite the impressive job from what I can tell.” He looks at me, unfazed that he used the in front of Instagram.

  “It’s growing. I hit a lull during the winter months with the holiday craze, but with a little magic fairy dust, it’s really gaining traction and better than where I want it to be.” I swallow another big bite, on the verge of choking.

  “By magic, she means her hard work.” Ty leans into my shoulder with his, his smile shining brighter than the lights above us. “She works harder than anyone I know.”

  My chest warms, and the warmth spreads throughout my whole body, which is still pretty hot from what Ty and I were up to before we were interrupted.

  Before I can say anything, my dad draws my attention back to him. “I’m so proud of you.”

  His words and voice are so sincere and strong. It makes me feel guilty for thinking he’s up to something. That he’s not here for a friendly visit. His words make me feel so low, but also really great. My heart swells because the studio is my pride and joy. It’s more than just my career—it’s my passion—and it means a lot that he’s even noticed, let alone complimented me on it.

  “Thanks, Dad.” I swallow to wet my dry throat. “It really is going well. Kendall’s even done a couple shoots there, so it’s been good publicity.”

  “That’s fantastic!”

  Ty’s eyes sparkle like he’s also proud. Like he’s in awe of me and believes in me. The loud beating of my heart is deafening. I close my eyes and dip my head down, savoring this moment.