Reckless Surrender

by R. C. Martin

  “It was amazing. I made salmon, since it’s her favorite, and we had wine and just talked for hours.” She laughs at something in remembrance. “She told me to tell you that I’m only allowed to move out if you share better.”

  “No promises,” I say with a grin.

  “In all seriousness, though, I didn’t know how much I missed her until tonight. So much has happened over the last few days for both of us. I think she’s a little sad that I’m going to be moving out, but she’s got my brother now, too. Tonight, I really got a glimpse of what that looks like. Hearing her talk about him…” She smiles and sighs. “It’s almost as if it surprises even her how much she likes him. Trev—I think she’s falling in love.”

  “I’m waiting for this to stop being so fucking weird, her and your brother. I mean, good for them, but…”

  “I know. They fascinate me. But it’s really good to see her this happy.” She pauses for a moment, reaching up to run her fingers through my hair. Her touch makes me stir. I wonder if we’re done talking when, all of a sudden, she stops. “So, I guess she’s got this new interest in church, too. She’s been a couple times. At first, I thought it was just to get on Roman’s good side, but I don’t think that’s it anymore. I think she’s curious about God. She asked me if I’d come the next time you went.”

  “What did you say?” I ask, slipping my fingers underneath the hem of her tank top. I trace my fingers back and forth across her phoenix as I wait for her response.

  “I told her I’d think about it. I don’t know why she’d want me there.”

  For as long as I’ve known Daphne, she’s never even thought about stepping into a church. I know her history and why she chooses not to go. I won’t say one way or another if I agree or disagree with her reasons for staying away. I have no right to have an opinion on the matter. Not with my track record. I’m not even sure if I believe in God. Not for myself. I do for Rett. I have to. I want to believe that there’s more after death for his sake. I want to believe that he was saved. As for me, I don’t know that I can be. They say redemption is for anyone who wants it, regardless of your past, but I don’t think I deserve it. Not after what I did to him.

  I go to church because it’s a way for me to feel close to Rett. It’s somehow comforting to be there. I can’t explain it, I just need it sometimes. It’s not the same for Daphne, but I sort of understand why Logan would be interested in her company. If she’s curious about the whole concept of God, she must want a chance to see it from all perspectives.

  “I have a guess,” I finally say.

  “Yeah? Enlighten me.”

  “On the one hand, she’s got Roman. He’s all in. On the other hand, she’s got you. Maybe she just wants to know who’s got it right.”

  “It’s not that simple. I don’t know that I want to drudge all of that up, either. It’s not like I’ll debate everything Roman believes in or whatever the pastor has to say. I believe there’s a God. I just don’t choose to party with Him and His friends.”

  Her word choice amuses me and I seize the opportunity to lighten the mood. “Well, if you decide to take her up on her offer, I’d be happy to be your DD.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she replies with a grin. “Will you hold my hair back if I get sick?”

  “Always.”

  “You’re so good to me.”

  “You think so?” I murmur as my hand finds her breast. She sucks in a breath at my touch and instantly arches her back in encouragement.

  I love the way her body responds to me. She’s mine and not a single part of her can deny it.

  I pull off her tank top and proceed to kiss and suck, nibble and lick every bit of her exposed torso. She squirms and pants throughout the duration of my exploration, impatient with desire, making me harder by the second.

  “Fuck—enough already,” she groans, pushing me away. She makes quick work of her cotton shorts and panties and I follow her lead. She reaches for me and I position myself on top of her. “No more foreplay. I want you now.”

  “Well, that was easy,” I tease before crashing my mouth against hers.

  There’s something about waking up under the weight of Trevor…he’s the warmest, heaviest, most welcome blanket I’ve ever had the pleasure of wearing. But right now, I have to pee.

  I sneak my way from underneath him and search the floor for some clothes. His t-shirt is at my feet, so I take it and pull it over my head as I make my way to the dresser to don a pair of fresh underwear. I tiptoe out into the hallway and almost run into Logan as she makes her way from her bedroom to the kitchen. She’s dressed and ready for work, her hair twisted into a loose, low bun, her heels on, and a knowing smirk on her lips.

  “That’s not what you were wearing to bed last night.”

  I smile guiltily as I run my fingers through my hair. “We didn’t wake you, did we?”

  “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “I slept like a baby,” she assures me. “I was going to make a cappuccino before I left. Want one?”

  “Please. I’ll be right there.”

  By the time I make it into the kitchen, both cappuccinos are done. She hands me mine and we both take a sip as we let our eyes dance around the room. It’s just as gorgeous as she said it would be and my inner chef can’t believe that I’m about to move away from it. I laugh to myself when I realize how silly that sounds when every other fiber of my being can hardly wait to make a home with Trevor.

  Make a home with Trevor. Shit. Just the sound of it makes me giddy.

  “What’s that smile for?” asks Logan, nudging me with her elbow. “Reliving last night’s booty call?”

  I laugh and nudge her back. “It wasn’t a booty call.”

  “Oh, right. You don’t have very much experience with this. Let me break it down for you. He came over after we went to bed; you two got it on; then you went to sleep. That, my friend, is a booty call.”

  “Does it still count as a booty call if he’s my boyfriend?”

  “Sorry, Skank,” she says with shrug.

  “What if he stays for breakfast?”

  “Booty. Call. Which, by the way, isn’t a very good first impression. This new boyfriend of yours should be trying to get on my good side. I am the best friend, after all.” She finishes her cappuccino and places her dish in the sink.

  “You’re right,” I say, playing along. “You haven’t even been properly introduced!”

  “I guess that means we have plans tonight.” She grabs her purse and begins backing her way to the door. “Let’s all have dinner. Here! You and Roman can cook while your booty call and this girlfriend check you two out.”

  “Sounds good,” I agree with a laugh.

  “I’ll call Roman on my way to work. Tell Trevor I said hi.”

  “You make sure Judah keeps his hands to himself,” I warn. She told me about their trip to the art dealer on Monday. She refuses to tell Roman, afraid that he’ll get paranoid and jealous, but I wish she would.

  “Don’t worry. I can handle him. I’ll talk to you later!”

  “Bye.” I take my time finishing up my morning caffeine fix, mentally flipping through dinner ideas for tonight. I’m pulled from my thoughts at the sound of Trevor cursing in pain. “Trev?” I call out as I set aside my mug and hurry toward my room. I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, in the gym shorts that he keeps stowed away in my dresser—though, not for much longer—grimacing as he takes a deep breath. I also see a box on the floor, filled with my shoes.

  “Stubbed the shit out of my toe. I’m fine.”

  “What are you up to?” I ask as I climb up to sit beside him. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I’ve only been up for a few minutes. On my way back from the bathroom, I spotted this box. Figured it was leftover from the kitchen and that I might help you recycle it.”

  “By filling it with my shoes?”

  “Mmhmm,” he hums, leaning toward me to plant a kiss on my lips. “I wasn’t completely honest with you about what I was
doing last night before I came over.”

  “No?”

  “I sort of took advantage of one of my last nights alone in the house and I made space for all your stuff. Every time I come over, I plan on leaving with at least one box full of your things.”

  “Starting with my shoes?”

  “Starting with your shoes,” he confirms with a nod.

  I free a squeal as I throw myself at him, tackling him onto his back. He laughs and wraps his arms around me, keeping me close. I prop my forehead against his and sigh happily. It’s still sinking in that this is happening—that Trevor and I are finally together and that we’ll be living under the same roof just as soon as I pack up all of my things. I think I’ve been too busy basking in unbelievable happiness, and having just enough incredible sex, to truly consider how much work it is to actually move; but Trevor has the right idea. I have to start somewhere. The sooner, the better.

  “What’s going on in your pretty head?” I kiss him and then sit up, straddling his waist. He rests his hands on my hips and studies me with curiosity. “Tell me.”

  “I used to dream about this. About us, together. But there were always limits—boundaries as to how far I would allow myself to see. It’s like I wouldn’t let myself imagine too much. The possibilities for us weren’t endless because it made me sad to imagine how great we could be when I didn’t think that we’d ever really get here. I wanted to be content with what we had. Now…now—”

  “The possibilities are endless,” he says, running his hands up and down my legs.

  “Yeah.”

  I gaze down at my tattooed man, taking him all in as I allow myself to wonder what I want with him. Not just in this moment, but in every moment for the rest of our lives. That’s what we have. I know that there is an unspoken promise of forever between us. For the first time since he first kissed me, my heart is ready to go beyond today—beyond this month or this year. That box on the floor, full of my shoes, that makes it all real. That box makes us more than lovers—more than two people who can’t manage to be in the same room with each other without wanting to take all of our clothes off. That box is a portal into reality. We’ve been in a dream state for almost a week, just loving each other and trying our damnedest to make up for lost time—but that box…it’s a manifestation of our future.

  This is my new life.

  Trevor. Is. My. Life.

  “Baby,” he sighs, reaching up to cup a hand around my cheek. “You can’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” I ask, leaning into his palm.

  “Like that. It makes me want to—” He finishes his sentence by sliding his hand around the back of my neck and pulling me down for a kiss. I open my mouth around his and he’s quick to brush his tongue against mine. For a few minutes, this is how he speaks to me. When he breaks away from the kiss, he keeps me close, his fingers buried in my hair, his beautiful eyes staring into mine. “I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  He pecks my lips and then sits up, taking me with him. “I think maybe I should leave with two boxes today. Maybe three.” He brushes my hair away from my face and his delicate touch gives me goosebumps.

  “Baby,” I begin in a whisper, “you can’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” he asks, touching the tip of his nose to mine.

  “Like that. It makes me want to—” He cuts me off with a kiss and I giggle as his lips curl up into a smile against mine.

  “Shit,” he mutters, pulling away from me. He gently urges me out of his lap as he stands and immediately switches out of his shorts and into his jeans. “If we don’t stop, you’ll never move. I’m going to get another box.” He says the words but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he stares at me as I grin at him. “Then again, we could just take your shoes, pack your books and call it good. I wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around in my t-shirts all the time.”

  “That, or I could just stay naked,” I tease with a nonchalant shrug.

  He inhales deeply and huffs out a breath. “I’m going to go get another box,” he repeats. This time, he does.

  Wednesdays are my new favorite days. Now that I’m back in school, it seems to be the only day that isn’t crazy. Mondays I teach yoga and then later I sit in a four hour class that ends just in time for me to make it to play basketball with the guys. Tuesdays and Thursdays I’ve got three classes back to back and it’s quickly become a habit of mine to spend the rest of the afternoon in the library until I head into work. Fridays and Sundays I’m at Cooper’s for most of the day and Saturdays are the days that I have to try and squeeze in everything else.

  But Wednesdays—Wednesdays after yoga, I reserve for schoolwork and Logan.

  “Take a break,” Ashton insists, banging his hands against my bedroom door. “I’m starving. Let’s go grab a bite.”

  “Sure, one sec.” I look back at my computer, needing to finish this transaction before I go anywhere.

  “That’s not for school,” he says, folding his arms across his chest as he peeks at my screen.

  “Nope. This is for Logan.” I confirm my purchase and then search for my shoes.

  “Good grief,” Ashton grumbles. “Okay—fair warning, I’ve let it slide for two weeks and now I can’t anymore. We’re discussing your Princess problem over lunch.”

  Before I can even cast a glare in his direction, he’s gone. I’m ready in five minutes and then we’re out. I tell Ashton that if he’s going to complain about my girlfriend, he’s driving. He doesn’t argue and we end up at a burrito shop not too far from our subdivision.

  “Can I be honest?” he asks as we both stand at the condiment station, dousing our meals in hot sauce.

  “Nothing’s ever stopped you before.”

  “I thought this whole thing would blow up in your face and then blow over.”

  “Please. Don’t hold back,” I say dryly as I head for a nearby table.

  “You fell for her while you two were pretending to be interested in each other,” he continues as he follows. He sits in the chair across from mine and ignores his food as he stares at me. “You can’t blame me for thinking that after a few days of actually having to put up with her, you’d be ready to call it quits.”

  I shrug and take a bite. “I guess not,” I mutter around my food. “But that’s not what happened.”

  “Okay, so you got to know her a little bit and now you think she’s nice and she sparkles and you got caught up in all of her princess glory—but have you really thought this through? I mean, you guys have nothing in common. How’s this going to work in the long run?”

  I push my food aside and rake my fingers through my hair before I focus all of my attention on him. “Look, I get it. I understand where you’re coming from, one-hundred-percent.”

  It’s true. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been waiting for this conversation with Ashton for over two weeks now. I’m surprised it took this long. He’s the only person who knows that Logan and I were pretending in the beginning. I’ve already had this argument with all of my other friends. The only difference is, I had a lot less to back me up then than I do now.

  “Great,” he says with a shrug. “So, care to explain how this happened?”

  “I don’t know how this happened! I didn’t plan this. Where’s the rule book that says she has to be a carbon copy of me? No, we don’t have a lot in common. We both like beer and wine and James Bond,” I begin with a smirk, “but she likes football and I like hockey; she likes those cheesy romance novels and I like poetry; she loves coffee and I can’t stand it—and you know what? I love that about us.

  “I love that I can’t predict what she’s going to do or say. I love that she surprises me all the time, just by being herself. I like the way she makes me laugh and the way she gets jealous when girls flirt with me while I’m at work, as if she’s forgotten that she’s the most beautiful woman in the room. She’s not, at all, who I thought she was.”

  “Maybe not, but she’s also no
t different than who she’s always been,” he says with a furrowed brow. “She’s not a Christian. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you said it yourself that you’d never date someone who didn’t believe in God.”

  “You’re not wrong. I did say that,” I admit with a nod. It’s something that I’m reminded of daily. It’s not that I regret getting myself into this situation with a woman who didn’t grow up the same way I did or who doesn’t believe all the same things I do. The trouble is, I can’t help but wonder how to tell my parents about her.

  They know OF her because of Daphne, but that doesn’t work in her favor. It’s not that I have plans to introduce her to my parents any time soon, but my mom asks me all the time if I’m seeing anyone. I won’t lie to her. Not about Logan. I’m done lying about Logan. She deservers far better than that—and I’d like to believe that God thinks the same thing. He loves her just as much as He loves anyone else.

  “Roman, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m just trying to look out for you. I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t ask you these questions. You’re my best friend and I don’t want The Princess to change you.”

  “She will, though. She already has.” I take a deep breath as I try and find the right words. “She challenges me, Ash, in my faith. She’s curious and she isn’t afraid to ask questions. You know she hasn’t missed a service since the first time she came with me? Every Saturday night on the ride home, she asks me questions and she tries to make sense of it all. I know that’s partly because she’s still trying to help me get my sister to come back for just one service, but I also think she wonders for herself.

  “I’m not going to sit here and say that I don’t have hope for her. I do. I care about her and I believe that everyone is better off with God and His love and His covering of grace; I want that for her more than anything—but I’m not going to push her. Our relationship isn’t contingent upon her faith, or lack there of. I don’t know what our future holds, or how this will play out in the long run, but I don’t want to live my life thinking that I need all the answers. I don’t.

  “Right now, she’s my choice. She doesn’t hinder my faith, she pushes me to dive deeper. Maybe I’m being reckless and naive, but I don’t want to be without her. I can’t do that to myself and I certainly don’t want to break her heart. So, I’m in this. Sometimes you just fall, you know? You can’t help it.”