Resisting Love

by Christine Zolendz

  “Me? Take a good look at yourself. What have you been doing lately? What about you and your secret squirrel guy?” I asked, arrogantly.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked in an even tone, like it was no big deal.

  “You and whoever you’ve been dating— the big secret and now the big secret is an ex. You’re running out of a bar, so you don’t have to bump into him?” I demanded, angrily.

  “And now you’re changing the subject and putting the spotlight on me. You broke up with every single one of your girlfriends right before they got too attached to you. Maybe you do it before you get too attached to them. Maybe you’re just a coward,” she seethed.

  “No,” I said calmly, shaking my head. That wasn’t it. I wasn’t afraid to get hurt. I got hurt on the regular. I was afraid of my getting hurt and that affecting someone I loved. “Every day… every single damn minute of every day we are at war with death on this job. I mean, Brooke, come on. Death’s right behind us, and he’s taking numbers at random. I’m not afraid of hurting or dying. I’m afraid for the person who I’ll leave behind. I don’t want to be that selfish, to have someone love me just to let her down.”

  The sun was finally up, streaking the sky with violent slashes of purple and red. Brooke stood up, shoulders back as if ready to fight. “Well, it’s too late, asshole. Look, you’re my brother, and I love you. It would kill me if you pulled a Thomas or if you died on the job. I love you and that’s my choice.” She walked to the door and opened it, still watching me. “And Liv? She’s loved you since the very first day of kindergarten when you stopped her from crying, because she was scared of school.”

  “I did what? What the hell are you talking about? What did I do?” My chest tightened.

  “You brought her to me, and we went into class together. She’s been my best friend ever since. No matter how far away she was or how long we didn’t talk, she’s been there for me—and loved you just as long. It was her choice. She would always choose you. The guy that wiped her tears when she was five and made her see that the world didn’t have to always be so lonely.”

  “She fell in love with a fantasy. She fell for the potential I could be. I don’t want to be put up on some pedestal just to crush her when I’m gone.”

  “We’re all going to die someday, Dean. That’s the only thing we are guaranteed here. It’s how we live that makes all the difference for us.” She leaned her back against the door jam and shook her head. “You could turn your back to her, close your eyes when she’s close, but you’re not going to be able to hide your heart from what you don’t want it to feel. I see the way you look at her, the way you always did. Just, don’t let her leave here without knowing that someone, someone good in this world, loves her. I have to get ready for work. And say goodbye to by best friend.”

  She closed the door quietly, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the sheer and utter agony of realizing there was a chance I might never see Liv again if she left.

  Chapter 16

  Liv

  I heard everything.

  I heard every beautiful, horrible thing they said.

  And I was kind of stuck on the he likes me part.

  I sat motionless, quiet. A bit dazed, my thoughts an incoherent jumble of emotions. On either side of me, the bed sheets were fisted in my hands, and my head was leaning back against the wall nearest to the window. Dean was still outside—right on the other side of the wall—I could smell the spicy dark tobacco of his cigar.

  Slowly, I untangled myself from the sheets, a heaviness pressing against my chest. Absentmindedly, I began getting ready to start the day, his words replaying over and over in my mind. It wasn’t until I was in the shower under an icy cold stream of water did I realize how hopeless the situation really was. Dean didn’t have the time in his life to be in a relationship and even if he did, even if he wanted to, I lived in Vermont. Even if I chose to leave that all behind, he had nothing to offer me. He was too paralyzed with the fear of leaving someone who cared for him behind. I stood in the shower, my body shuddering uncontrollably, tears falling from my eyes.

  I slipped quietly out of the shower, wrapping myself in a soft towel, trying to find warmth. Shivering, I stumbled back into the guest bedroom, thanking the stars above the bathroom and bedroom were connected to each other, so Brooke wouldn’t catch me in the hallway sobbing like a blubbering idiot. What would I have said if she’d seen me? I wasn’t crying over her brother no more than the fact that everyone in my life had never thought I was enough to change for, fight for, risk anything for. I wasn’t worth it to anyone.

  My mind whirled hazily, crammed full of blurry images, thoughts and emotions that I desperately wanted to run away from. I had never felt as unwanted as I did that minute. And I certainly never felt so goddamn alone.

  Being with Dean would be just as lonely as being without him and no matter how I felt and what I wanted, the best thing I could do was go back to my empty apartment, take all that Troy Family money, and never come back here again.

  Still in the towel, I climbed under the comforter on the bed and curled myself into a ball, my shoulders instantly relaxed into its warmth.

  “You’re leaving today?” a deep voice rumbled from the corner.

  I sat straight up in bed, covers sliding right off me, an instant overwhelming thrill of fear slamming across my chest.

  “Dean?” I squeaked, heat searing through my body. I grasped at the towel to keep my chest covered.

  He stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room, his face a mess of emotions and something else I couldn’t figure out.

  “Are you leaving today?” he asked again, his tone cutting, dark.

  I nodded, saying nothing else.

  “Because of your mother, right?” The words came out in a rush.

  “That, and a few other things.” I said the words slowly, trying to get a handle on my increasing levels of anger. He’d come inside the room, without knocking, scaring me half to death, and now he wanted to question my choices. Not happening.

  “Other things?” His voice was guarded, giving nothing away.

  “Dean, what do you want? Why did you come in here?”

  He was silent for a long moment, staring down at the sheets on the bed. His eyes blazed fiercely. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.” His voice was velvety and smooth, no louder than a whisper.

  “I don’t understand,” I confessed, blushing. Did he want me to stay for good? Or did he just want to spend a few more hours with me? Neither of which I’d have an answer to.

  “Give me one more night.” He spoke the words quietly, cautiously. I glanced up into his eyes; his expression was full of pain. “There are things I need to say to you. Things that—”

  “I heard you and Brooke talking outside before,” I admitted, securing more of the blankets around me. “You don’t have to say anything to me.” What would one more night do for me, for us? I would just become too attached and once again not be someone’s choice—not be important enough—just used for the moment. I dropped my gaze down, not wanting to look at him.

  He sat down at the edge of the bed near me and reached toward me hesitantly. Then, he stopped, dropping his hand to the bed. “What I don’t want, ever, is to hurt you.” His voice was heavy with sadness.

  I considered his words for a few breaths, and then I looked up at him. “We’re like broken glass, aren’t we? Both of us tiptoeing around our sharp edges trying not to cut each other.”

  We sat watching one another, silently. Streams of sunlight filtered in through the curtains, casting long strange shadows and patterns over us. I was suddenly hyper aware of our time together, slipping quickly away from us. I was instantly terrified that Dean and I would never have this time alone again. This was pretty much it. I wasn’t ever coming back here, and I was never going to see him again.

  My thoughts drifted off into a dark place, and a rush of helplessness wrapped around me. The sinking feeling of being pull
ed down into the far depths of sadness, and bitterness left me feeling as though I was drowning.

  The bed dipped and spikes of electricity crawled across the blankets, nipping along my skin.

  Then, his lips were on mine and there were no more coherent thoughts. All I did was feel. Warm lips, hands touching down on bare skin, my entire body trembling. The heat from his body, so familiar and safe, consumed me. The dark spicy scent of his skin overwhelmed my senses, as our mouths moved as one.

  He sucked in a breath, pulling away slightly, wild hazel eyes searching mine. “Tell me to stop if—” His words were lost against my mouth as I clasped at his shirt and pulled him closer against me. Just shut up, I wanted to scream. Just shut up and kiss me. His kiss wasn’t gentle or soft; it was urgent and furious.

  “Shut up. Don’t stop,” I breathed into his kiss, sliding my hands up and knotting my fingers in his hair. He moaned softly, a low growl in his throat. Then, his hands were pressed into my waist, my towel slipping down while we tangled together. Every inch of my body melted into his. I became breathless and weightless. The bed dissolved beneath us, the room and sounds of the world blurred to nothing and it was just Dean and me. Rough fingertips ran up my sides, across my arms and neck, dropping down only to begin their tantalizing journey once again. I felt as though they might leave marks along my flesh, burns from the fire he was trailing across my skin.

  He pulled the blankets from my skin, unwrapping my entire body. His breath whispered gently against my flesh. “God, Liv.” His mouth was at my ear.

  Somewhere, a distant ringing erupted, splashing lights and noise throughout the room. It was incessant and alarming, blocking out our whispered gasps and soft moans.

  Dean pulled back, eyes wild, “Just my phone. Ignore it.” He fumbled with the device, trying to shove it away from our tangled bodies.

  But it didn’t stop. I peeked down, reading the screen.

  Katherine Meyers.

  “Dean,” I breathed, keeping my eyes on the phone. “Dean?”

  “God, Liv. Don’t stop saying my name.”

  “Dean!” I said more curtly, desperately trying to get my lips to disengage with his.

  His lips were parted, his breathing heavy. “Why are you saying it like that?”

  “Because Katherine Meyers’ name is flashing on your phone,” I said, scooting back and pulling the blankets around me.

  Dean glared at me defiantly and yanked the blankets back off. He did a double take at the phone, not registering who I said it was. “What?”

  “Pick up the damn phone, Dean.” I chuckled, kicking the phone at him.

  He was on his feet at once, phone to his ear. “Hello. Detective Fury here,” he said, clearing his throat. He looked forward, expression tense. “Yes, yes. Thank you. I wanted to speak to you about Detective Thomas Young.”

  He listened to the woman for a moment, eyebrows gathering into deep crevices of confusion. “No, I really would like to meet with you. Just a few questions. Yes, I understand, but I’d like to meet with you anyway. Yes, okay.” He glanced at his watch, then turned to look at me with a distraught expression.

  “I look forward to meeting with you then,” he pulled the phone from his ear and cut off the call. He hesitated for a moment. Then, he lifted his eyes to meet mine. His hazel eyes looked lost. I stared into them until he looked away.

  I blinked, confused. “Well? What did she say?” I asked.

  “She’s a sergeant, in a narcotics unit in Brooklyn.” His tone was flat, exhausted.

  “Um. Okay. What does that mean?” I asked, confused.

  “Nothing, really.” He ran a hand through his hair and stepped closer to the bed. His knee leaned against the mattress. “I just didn’t think she was on the job.”

  “Maybe they were friends? Or maybe he was working with her on something? Like a case or—”

  “Or maybe he was just fucking her, like Lucy thinks,” he sneered, furiously.

  I reached forward, thoughtlessly, to touch his hand, but he jerked it away quickly. My hand dropped onto my lap, my heart stuttering with confusion. His expression hinted at an end to our kiss, to our moment—an indefinite one, and my insides twisted, making me instantly sick. “What…what can I do? How can I help?” I asked desperately, not wanting him to feel alone. We didn’t have to be alone, did we? We could go through it together. I could be there for him and prove to him I was dependable and strong and capable and worth all the effort.

  Only if he just—

  “Liv, no. You have so much going on in your life right now, your mom. Your life in Vermont, I…can’t…” His tone was flat, bleak.

  “You can’t what?” I asked, gritting my teeth together.

  “This. This is what. This is why I can’t.” He held the phone up to my eye level and squeezed it in his fist. “I can’t try to make things happen between us when I’m always running out the door. She could only meet with me now. And right now, I’m here with you.” His voice had an edge to it, and he looked at me with cold eyes. “I’m torn between wanting to stay in this room with you right here, right now, and let the world go on without us, but I can’t do that to you. For what? Just to get inside you? And if I wanted more? I can’t ask you to wait for me when you have your hands full and a life hundreds of miles away. I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

  “I’m a teacher. This is winter recess for the kids. I need to be back Monday morning.”

  “So you do have a few more days that you can stay here?” His voice was pleading.

  “I could stay a few more, yes.”

  His mouth moved, yet the words stayed unspoken, and the question remained unasked. “I can’t ask you to stay. But, God I really want to.” He fixed his shirt and pants as I clutched the blankets tighter around my bare body. “You should just leave, Liv. You should. You should run the fuck out of here and go somewhere where you could find something or someone who will always put you first.” His nose flared as he stared at me. “All I would ever be able to give you is a lifetime of me and my back as I’m leaving.”

  Then, he made good on his promise and walked right out the bedroom door.

  Chapter 17

  Dean

  Once inside the car, I realized what I had done. I told her to leave. I told her to leave, and I didn’t look back, just left her sitting on the bed wrapped in blankets with a look of utter horror on her face. The last I saw of her were her lips turned down at the corners and tears welling in her eyes. What if that was truly the last time I did ever see her? The last thing I said to her was to get away from me as fast as she could.

  I deserved to rot in hell.

  I started the engine and yanked the heater on. Liv would never forgive me, and honestly, she shouldn’t. I was an asshole. I could have handled it much better, but I didn’t see anything but red. I didn’t want to leave her. And I wanted her to stay here, but I wasn’t right for her. I wasn’t enough for her. What would she be staying for? I didn’t want her to uproot her life in Vermont to come back here where all she’d be doing was waiting for me to come home or watching me leave at all hours of the night. It’s not as if she had a family to turn to, her mother was a lost cause.

  I pulled out of the driveway and headed for Katherine Meyers’ office in downtown Brooklyn, my jaw locked tight.

  “What did I seriously offer her back there? My dick?” I grumbled, angrily with myself. Where the hell would that have left us?

  The streets were packed and traffic was heavy. Sanitation trucks clogged the streets, salting in preparation for an oncoming storm. After twenty minutes of standstill congestion on the Belt Parkway, the skies darkened and snow started fluttering down in soft circular spirals. Outside the windshield, the world looked beautiful, juxtaposing with the violent rage that boiled in my veins. I wanted everything to be less complicated. I wanted Thomas to be here. I wanted Liv to—I didn’t even know. I wanted her to be with me. I wanted her to stay.

  But it didn’t matter want I wanted.
All that mattered was what was best for Liv. And it wasn’t me.

  Finding Katherine Meyers’ office wasn’t a difficult task; my GPS grated out every direction until I was parked in front of a nondescript building surrounded by a small farmers’ market and warehouses. When I climbed out of the car, there was a fine dusting of snow on the ground. I tracked footprints up to the front door and made my way inside. The building was small, a little waiting area with wooden chairs along the wall, and a guard sitting behind a desk next to an extremely wilted potted plant. I showed him my identification, and he pointed me in the right direction.

  Five minutes, three floors down, and five hallways later I decided the building was much bigger than I first anticipated. Sergeant Katherine Meyers stood by the door waiting for me. She was dressed in plain clothes, long beautiful red hair pulled back in a tight pony tail and stunningly gorgeous. Young. Sexy. Thomas’ exact type. My stomach dropped.

  “Detective Fury?” she asked through tight lips.

  “Yes. Sergeant Meyers, I presume?” I took her outstretched hand and shook it. “I really appreciate you meeting with me.”

  “Normally, I wouldn’t Detective, but something was brought to my attention this morning that made me think otherwise. Please, follow me into my office,” she said, gesturing for me to walk inside. The office was minuscule, and brightly lit. Plants with long vines that trailed to the floor were suspended haphazardly around the room. A cluttered desk took up most of the space, with half an eaten breakfast topping a stack of folders and papers. A strong dank smile of tuna hung thickly in the air. This woman was a hot mess.

  She moved inside after me, tapping an old metal folding chair. “Please have a seat,” she murmured, then climbed around the disaster that was her desk and plopped down nosily on her seat. “So, Detective… before I begin, why don’t you tell me what can I help you with?”