by Cora Bell
I pounded harder, knew she was close when she gripped my arms, fingers digging into my flesh.
“Oh, God—I’m so close—” Her back arched. “Nash. Yes….”
Another upward thrust had her shouting my name again, her entire body tensing. She squeezed me tight, and I came hard and fast, shuddering. I poured into her as she came and each time she convulsed she squeezed me tighter, wringing me dry.
I captured her moans with my mouth, keeping my hips tight against hers as the orgasm went on and on.
When her body finally relaxed beneath mine, I smoothed her hair back from her cheeks, kissed her softly on her mouth, and held her against me. There was something niggling at the back of my mind, something I needed to remember. But right now, all I wanted was to be close to her.
So I pulled her to my chest, tugged the covers over the top of us, and held her until her breathing evened out and I drifted off into a fitful sleep.
The anxiety that hit me had my stomach clenching, my teeth gritting, my fists opening and closing. I was out of control, and there was nothing I could do.
When I woke, gasping for air and struggling to regain control, Reyna was there. She smoothed cool hands over my cheeks, said soothing words.
For a moment, all I could do was try to breathe. Try to shake that horrible feeling from the dream.
“You’re okay,” she said, sliding her body up against mine so I could feel her close. “It was just a dream.”
I swallowed and nodded. It had felt so real. Real enough, my body had been paralyzed in fear. It sounded ridiculous now. Something so small—but I couldn’t help it.
“What happened?” she asked softly.
Against my better judgment, I found myself opening up to her. Telling her what I’d dreamt about. “I was outside with you. We went…I don’t know. Somewhere in the city. And there were buildings and people all around me, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen. And I panicked.”
The flutter of panic rose again my chest and I had to take another few breaths to calm down, to remind myself I wasn’t there. I was home. Safe in bed with Reyna next to me.
“I’m sorry,” Reyna murmured, her lips brushing my jaw.
“It’s…this is why I can’t go out there. I’m…” Afraid. I was. Not just because of the people out there, but because of me. “You don’t know what happened the last time I went out there.”
“Tell me.”
My throat closed. No. I couldn’t. If I told her, she’d leave.
“Nash.” She pressed her hand against my chest. “You can tell me.”
“I can’t. No.”
“Why not?”
“Because—damn it, Reyna. Don’t you understand? I love you. I love you—and if I tell you this, you’re going to leave.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I hadn’t said anything back to Nash, and I felt horrible. He’d told me he loved me, laid it right out there in the middle of the night. When he’d felt vulnerable. I didn’t doubt he meant it, but he’d also been in a bad place.
And now we were both in a bad place because I had no idea what to say back.
I worked for another week, pretending like things were okay between us even though they weren’t. My bank account was growing, and I had enough to talk to the facility director about changing my mother’s care.
If she was under supervision like this, I wouldn’t be able to visit her. I wouldn’t have any reason to stay close. She’d be taken care of and I would be free—to go stay with Jane if I wanted.
But there was Nash.
When I walked into his art room, his back was to me, and he had a paintbrush in his hand. I could stand and watch him create art for hours. It was like a dance, perfect poetry of strokes and gentle flicks of his wrist.
Nash was brave to create pieces that came from his heart—I just wished he was as brave when it came to the outside world. The more he held back from me, the more I worried he’d never leave this house again. The more I feared what he wasn’t telling me really would tear us apart.
“I have an appointment in an hour,” I said.
He turned, paintbrush still in hand. He wore baggy sweats that hung seductively from his hips, and a t-shirt that had a streak of red paint across the front.
“An appointment?”
I nodded. “The uh—I’m going to talk to the facility director. To…”
“Get things sorted out with your mom.” He frowned and set aside the paintbrush. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Honestly? Because I knew he couldn’t come with me. Because I needed support he couldn’t provide, and I didn’t want him to feel guilty. But in all honesty, I was upset. I wanted him there and it wasn’t going to happen.
I shrugged instead of telling him all this. “Just thought it would be better this way.”
“It’s not better. I want you to tell me these things.”
I swallowed hard when he stepped closer. I wanted to tell him these things, too, but what was I supposed to say? If I told him the truth, it wouldn’t help—and we both knew it.
“You could wait in the car,” I said quietly, hating myself for doing it, but needing to nevertheless. “If you came with me, you could wait in the car. You wouldn’t even have to get out.”
He dropped his chin to his chest, releasing a breath at the same time. “I’m not ready.”
My heart cracked. Of course he wasn’t. I didn’t blame him for not being there yet, but I did blame him for not trying harder. Whether that was fair of me or not, that’s how I felt.
“I understand.” He reached for me, but I backed up. “I have to go.”
“Reyna.”
I turned, trying not to let him see my disappointment. “I’ll see you later.”
“Wait.”
He caught up to me at the door, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Don’t be upset.”
I bit my tongue, knowing anything I said right now would be bad. I was hurt, and it would show in my words. On my face.
“Reyna,” he whispered, breath touching my ear. He kissed my neck. “Please.”
Please. We said that word to each other so often lately, it had lost meaning. Because both of us couldn’t give the other what we needed.
Because we might never be able to.
“I need to go,” I whispered.
Nash’s hands clenched on my waist. “I love you, Reyna.”
“I know.”
But I still pulled away and walked from the room because right now love wasn’t enough.
Nash didn’t follow me to the elevator, and I left to deal with the situation with my mom alone.
#
I answered the phone immediately when I saw Charles’s number. “Everything okay?”
“She just left. Sat in her car for about ten minutes first. She was…upset. But now she’s on her way back.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
I ended the call. I’d had him follow Reyna to the facility. After the way she’d walked out, I wanted to make sure she made it safely. I wanted to make sure she was safe. I wanted more than that. I wanted to be with her, but what was I supposed to do?
I contemplated going for my meds, just enough to take off the edge of the anxiety. Then I’d be able to leave the hotel, maybe visit her at home or…take her out. My stomach clenched so hard, I went for a drink instead.
But after I poured two fingers of whisky, my gaze fell on the card sitting on the counter by the refrigerator. The card for my psychiatrist. I hadn’t been lying to Reyna when I said I hadn’t dealt with things on my own. I’d talked to someone—I’d taken meds. I’d been open with Layla. But that had been months…okay more than months...ago. Then I’d gotten comfortable being up here, safe in my own place, and content with not being a danger to anyone else.
It seemed a better solution than forcing myself to do something I didn’t want to do. Hadn’t really ever wanted to do.
Until now.
I could see why Reyna wanted more from me, but she had
to see how hard it was. Or maybe, maybe it was that she really didn’t love me.
She hadn’t said it back. Maybe we weren’t on the same page. Maybe we weren’t even reading the same book.
I downed the whisky and walked to my art room. Reyna would be back soon and we could talk. I’d make her understand—make her see that this was the way things needed to be right now. She’d understand, and we could go back to how things were.
But after an hour flipping through photos to decide on my next project, she still wasn’t here. I tried her cell phone but when it went to voicemail, my irritation grew. Why the hell wasn’t she answering?
Then I was torn between fear and anger. What was that supposed to mean that she hadn’t come back here? Maybe she’d had a stop to make. Maybe she’d gotten distracted taking pictures.
I called Charles’s number and waited one short ring for him to answer. “Where is she?” I snapped.
“Just got home, sir.”
Home? What for? She hadn’t been home in days—maybe longer. She practically lived here now.
“Would you like me to wait?” Charles asked.
I gritted my teeth. Yes. He should wait. Because then Reyna would come to her senses and get in the car with him to come home.
“Stay there. I’ll get back to you.”
I paced in front of the windows, back and forth by a mostly blank canvas—all my inspiration gone. Then I called Reyna’s number again.
She answered almost immediately this time. Before I could say anything, she asked, “You had Charles follow me?”
I shoved my hand through my hair. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
She blew out a breath. “I’m not dating Charles, I’m dating you.”
The snap in her voice made me flinch, and the defensiveness welled up immediately. “Why the hell do you think I wanted to make sure you were okay?”
“I understand that, Nash. But…” She took a few calming breaths. “This isn’t working. I don’t want Charles here. I want you here.”
“Reyna, we already—”
“We already talked about this.”
“I know. We did. And we didn’t get anywhere.”
I paced away from the canvas, my eyes landing on the lounge chair. All I could see when I looked at it was Reyna lying there naked. All I could feel was her body pressed against mine. Her encasing me and driving me mad.
“Come here,” I said. “Come home and we’ll talk. We’ll figure this out.”
“That’s not my home, Nash. I’m sorry, but it’s not. I need space.”
“Space? That seems like all you want lately. You’re constantly running from me.”
“Running? Nash—it’s called living. Going places in public. Spending time with people. Being a normal human being!”
My teeth clenched, and I forced myself not to yell at her. “A normal human being. I see.”
“God, no—you don’t! Shit. What do you want me to do? You won’t open up to me, you won’t try to break out of that shell. I want you to be with me. Out. Here.”
“Damn it, Reyna! Why the fuck do you keep pushing?”
“Because I—”
She broke off, and the line fell silent between us. I had no idea what she was going to say because she didn’t continue. But it felt important. Maybe like the key to solving this whole thing. Maybe the words I’d been waiting to hear from her—that she loved me, too.
“Reyna,” I said softly, all the anger fading. I could hear it in my voice—the desperation I’d been trying to hide.
“I can’t do this,” she said. “I need more.”
“You don’t mean that. We’ll talk about this.”
She sighed. “There isn’t anything to talk about. If you’ll still let me work for you, then—”
“Of course you still work for me.”
“Okay, if it’s easier, I can go back downstairs to the store.”
“Fuck easier. You work for me. I gave you a job and you do a damn good job. Why are you even talking about this?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like you couldn’t be professional. You’re right. I work for you, I do my job, and that’s enough. I’ll keep doing my job and get you those photographs.”
“And?”
She was silent a long moment, but when she answered, my whole world went still. “And nothing. That’s all that’s between us now, Nash. I have to go.”
And then she was gone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I kept things professional. I had to. I needed him—no, his job—to make sure my bills were paid and my mom was safe where she needed to be. And he needed me—as an employee—to give him inspiration for his paintings.
Unfortunately, he never seemed to be working on those paintings when I came over. I’d bring my laptop, pull up the dozens of pictures I’d taken that day, and instead of bringing them to his art room, he’d stare at me.
He’d ask me questions.
I supposed he was trying to get me to stay longer, to draw out every ounce of together time he could. I didn’t blame him. I was dying without Nash, too, but this was how things needed to be.
This time when I stood to go, Nash caught my hand. He seemed to realize his mistake and released me. “Stay for dinner.”
My mouth opened automatically to say yes. God, I wanted to be with him so badly. I forced myself to shake my head. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
Besides, I needed to talk with Jane. She wanted me to visit this weekend and see her place. A place I might be moving to soon once I figured out things here. I just hadn’t told Nash yet.
“How about a glass of wine then.” He stood, giving me a smile. “I have something to show you.”
He walked from the room before I could answer, so I trailed behind him. “Just one.”
I still needed to talk to him about Friday.
In the kitchen, he already had two glasses on the counter. He poured a generous amount of wine into both and then passed me one. I turned for the living room, but he cleared his throat.
“This way,” he said, walking to the elevator.
My mouth dropped open. “Where are we going?”
“I’ll show you.”
My heart picked up speed. Nerves and excitement raced through me, followed by a small bit of dread. I still needed to talk to him, and I could see he was trying to make things better between us, but I wasn’t sure what it would take at this point.
We stepped into the elevator and he pushed a button above his floor. I watched curiously as the elevator rose and the door opened to what looked like a terrace. We were on the roof. There were plants and comfortable seats, lights that hung on strings, and…music?
“What’s this?”
He took my hand, and I was too surprised to stop him. He guided me onto the rooftop. A warm breeze tickled my cheeks and I stared out to the city lights. I could barely see them twinkle with the sun just at the horizon, but I bet the view after the sun set would be spectacular.
I looked at Nash, suddenly nervous for him. “Are you okay? Is this…okay?”
He nodded and covered his unease with a sip of wine. “Let’s sit.”
I followed his lead and took a spot on one of the chairs. Nash sat close to my right. “It’s nice out here, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t even know this was up here. Do you come here a lot?”
“I do now,” he said. His body was a little tense, but otherwise, he looked okay. “I’ve been working toward it. This. It’s getting easier. But then…it’s not around people.”
I took a sip of my wine and then set it aside. “It’s the people that are the hard part, isn’t it?”
His jaw flexed. He nodded.
“I know they seem scary,” I started, but he shook his head.
“It’s not them. It’s me.”
“You? I don’t understand.”
Nash bl
ew out a breath, staring toward the horizon. “After Brianna died, I went crazy. I—I couldn’t stand knowing what had happened to her. They jumped us in an alley, got me with a knife—right here.” He pointed to the spot where I’d seen his scar. “There was so much blood. I couldn’t get up, I could barely move. I had to watch while they—they took her and then killed her. She was screaming and…”
“Oh my God.” I grabbed his hand. “I’m so sorry…”
He didn’t look at me. “I saw their faces. I knew who they were, but the police couldn’t find them. Charles helped me. He tracked them down and I—I brought a gun…”
My heart stopped. A gun. “Nash…”
“I almost did it. I was right there. I was going to kill them both, but Charles found me, stopped me. I lost it. I—I couldn’t be around anyone anymore. I didn’t know what I would do to them or myself.” He released a breath. “That was the last time I was out there.”
He looked down at our linked hands, distaste on his face. “So I understand if you can’t be around me. I’m a murderer—”
“You’re not,” I said vehemently. “You were hurting, you reacted, but you didn’t go through with it.”
“I can’t trust myself. You can’t trust me. It’s better if I stay in here.”
I squeezed his hand as all the pieces fell into place, as I understood why he was so afraid to leave his apartment. “I trust you, Nash. I know you won’t hurt anyone. I know you—right here.”
I placed my hand over his heart and he held it to his chest. A flicker of hope passed over his face, and it gave me hope, too. If he could see this, see that he wasn’t a danger to himself or anyone else, we could move on. We could be together.
Then he released me. “I can come up here. I’m trying. But the rest…”
The rest. That was what we were missing.
That was what we couldn’t get past, no matter how hard I wished we could.
I stood, my heart aching, knowing I had to do this. “I need to go.”
“Reyna, wait. I’m trying. You have to see that.”
“I am. It’s not—I don’t want to force you to do something that’s so hard for you. But—but I can’t live like this.”