Tell Me You Love Me

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Tell Me You Love Me Page 12

by Julie Prestsater


  This time, my voicemails are back to normal. Lizzy has kept to her promise. She hasn’t called. Hasn’t left any voicemails. It’s just my mom and my sister.

  Hey, big brother. I miss you. Are you coming home yet? Are those old bastards still on the disabled list? I’m ready for you to come home. I met someone. I need you to meet him. Talk to you soon. Love you.

  No, no, no. My little sister is not allowed to meet someone. Damn.

  Ryan, honey. How are you? I have big news. Your sister has a new boyfriend.” My mom’s singsong tone rings in my ears. “I think this is the one. I sure as hell haven’t told her that, but the young man looks at her like she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. It’s so touching. You’re going to want to kill him at first, but he’ll grow on you, I promise. Get your ass home soon, so you can meet him. And so I can meet your girl, too. The one from the library. You better get back here before she forgets about you. No one wants to wait around forever. ’Bye now. Love you, sweetheart.

  Shit. I don’t know what’s worse—my sister’s new guy or my mom mentioning Lizzy. Don’t worry, Mom. She’s not waiting around for me. It wouldn’t be the first time that has happened.

  Tossing my phone on the bed, I fall back into my pillows. I don’t feel like returning any calls today. I’m in a crabby mood and I know it will come through the phone lines. My mom has always had a good bullshit meter and I don’t feel like having her call me on it. Instead, I just lie in bed waiting for sleep to take over again. If the other guys aren’t up yet, I may as well take advantage of the time and rest, too.

  If only my damn mind would cooperate. I swear I need a mute button for the thoughts filling my head. An off button for the old melon to shut the fuck up.

  * * *

  “You think you can survive a few more weeks?” Avery tosses a beer my way.

  I catch the bottle, flip off the cap, and take a long pull. “I’ve lasted over five months. I think I can hang on just a little longer.” Five fucking months is a long-ass time to be out in the wilderness tearing down shit and digging ditches. Some of my cop friends talk nonsense about firefighters and how all we do is play cards and make chili. I’d like to see their sorry asses out here powering a chainsaw and out from the comfort of their air-conditioned units.

  “When you first got here, I had my doubts,” he adds, ribbing me for being rough around the edges.

  “Fuck you,” I tell him. “I told you I was going through some shit. I got my head back on straight.”

  “Yeah, like last week. Your bitch ass was acting like a lost little girl. I can’t believe you were hung up over some chick for that long.” He rolls his eyes, completely disgusted. I finally broke down and told him about Lizzy. He gave me the whole tough love talk and told me to man up and get the hell over it. It was actually what I needed. Something to get me out of my funk so I wasn’t moping around like a total dumbass.

  I take another sip of my brew and then raise the bottle to Avery. “I’m fine now. Thanks for that, man.”

  “Anytime. You just owe me about a hundred bucks an hour for the therapy fees.” He chuckles at his own joke. “I’m going to miss you being out here with us again. If you get back and decide that small town is too boring for you, come back. I know the commander would take you back in a heartbeat. These young guys don’t know their dicks from the axes. They’re dangerous.”

  “They’re fine,” I say, shrugging him off. “You’re just afraid they’re going to steal your spot.” He deserves a little ribbing, too.

  “Fuck you,” is all he says. “Let’s get some rest. While you’re here, I’m going to make sure we use the hell out of you. It’s back to the lines tomorrow. If we’re lucky, we’ll be done sooner and you can get your ugly ass mug out of my face again.”

  Dramatically, I place my hand over my chest, pretending to take offense to his words. “I thought you wanted me to come back.”

  “Yeah, well...I changed my mind, Ass.”

  He’s not the only one changing his mind. I thought I was ready to go home. For the last month, I’ve been good. The thoughts of Lizzy have settled and I’ve finally come to terms with the fact she’s married and things will be different when I get home. But now that the time has come to go back, I’m not sure what to think.

  The only thing I do know is that what was so clear only days ago, is now getting foggier by the minute.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lizzy

  The ladies and I have convened for one of our most memorable book club meetings yet at The Lookout. Molly is pulling out all the stops on this one. Food, picnic tables, balloons, and of course, an abundance of girlie adult beverages. She’s even wearing a hot pink feather boa for the occasion along with her Team McCloud tee.

  We’re reading Let It Be Me by the adorable Toni Aleo this month. The girls thought it was fitting considering my divorce is final today and they think it’s about time I jump back on the “bologna pony” as Molly put it. I tried explaining that Jace never abused me like Rob did Violet. Well, not physically—the verbal abuse has left more scars than I care to think about. How do you ever completely heal from emotional abuse? Will I ever feel loved and cherished the way my dad used to love me? It’s hard not to take notice of the two booming voices in my head, my mom’s, and Jace’s.

  It doesn’t matter to them that Rob and Jace aren’t completely alike. In their margarita-goggled eyes, they happen to think my very own Dr. Tucker McCloud is going to come riding out of the sunset on a white horse and offer his hand to me, saving me from my lonely life before I become that woman in the neighborhood who crochets doilies and has twenty cats.

  What the girls don’t know is that I’m not waiting for a doctor to come and save me. My mind is still consumed with thoughts of a certain fireman. And the look of hurt and disappointment in his eyes. Why didn’t I tell him I was married? That question still haunts me to this day. I should have just told him, but it’s not like it ever came up. It’s not like I was completely hiding it. The rest of the house knew I was hitched. They could’ve told him at any time. But the shock, the horror on his face, was the only evidence I needed to tell me he didn’t know. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  Is it bad that a part of me secretly likes he was so affected by my marriage? It just means that he cared, right? That everything I was feeling for him was reciprocated in some way. Maybe I didn’t tell him because I knew he would stop looking at me the way he did. Or maybe I was afraid to lose the easiness of having just a regular conversation with a man. A man interested in what I had to say. One who wasn’t looking for the next reason to put me down.

  I had craved to see Ryan as often as I could. I sought him out so I could look at him and feel his eyes wash over my body, which had sent tingles from my head to my toes. I longed for those fun, playful chats where nobody and nothing else existed but us.

  And now, it’s all gone.

  Ryan is gone.

  Since the chief asked him if he wanted to go to Utah, he hasn’t been back. Justin says he’s had the opportunity to return, but he just hasn’t taken it.

  And it’s killing me. I never had the chance to say goodbye. Or apologize. He just left me standing right where I am right now, staring at his back while he walked away. When he asked me if I was married, if I had known that was the last thing he would ever say to me, I would have held on to him so tight, he would have never been able to leave. I would have asked him to stay, like the song. And then I would have told him anything he wanted to know. Although, in my book, he already knew way too much about Jace.

  Calling Ryan was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I sat with the phone in my hands for hours, trying to figure out the right words to say. When I finally summoned the courage to make the call, I was relieved that I did. Even if he never called back. I tried and tried, leaving message after message over the course of a few months, but still...no response. It’s not like I could blame him for not calling me back.

  For some reason, I
thought he would call me back; give me the opportunity to explain and tell him what the hell was going on in my head. I just wish I knew what was going on in his.

  The sound of boots knocks me from my own thoughts.

  “Did you bring some boas for the guys?” Rachel asks. “One: I’d like to see Justin in feathers. Two: I’d like to see Jesse in feathers. And, three: I’d like to see Owen in feathers.”

  “I bet you would,” I respond. I’m surprised she didn’t just mention Owen’s name for all three in her list.

  Molly pulls a red boa from her bag, and continues pulling on it like a magician would his scarves until there is nothing left to pull. Except for another one. And another.

  “Wow, did you buy out the store?” I tease. She tosses a black one around my neck and shimmies up and down like she’s working a pole.

  “This is your party. You’re the one who needs one.” When I try to remove it, she flips one end over my shoulder in protest, effectively strangling me with feathers.

  Whatever. If they went through the trouble to throw this party for me, the least I can do is play along. Despite the fact that I’m currently choking on feathers. Death by Boa. What a way to go down. Wonderful.

  “Who’s ready to celebrate the death of a really shitty marriage?” Jesse calls out when the men come into view.

  Nothing like telling it like it is. “Me!” I raise both my hands in the air and wave.

  He’s the first to throw his arms around me for a hug that makes my pulse beat a little faster and my skin warm. Hell, he has a hard body and a gorgeous face. I’m only human after al.

  “Where’s the gear?” I ask him.

  “No gear today,” Justin responds. “We’re here to celebrate. We’re off duty.”

  I thought it was a little late in the day for training, but Molly insisted they were coming.

  “And you still walked up this god-forsaken hill for the hell of it?” I sure wouldn’t have.

  He hugs me this time, his body just as hard as Jesse’s, causing me to build up a little sheen of sweat. I don’t know if it’s the guys or the two shots Rachel had us drink when we got here. It’s probably a combination of both.

  The Boss pulls Justin away from me and takes his turn. “We parked just down the street, where you couldn’t see us. It felt weird to just pull up. Kind of like breaking tradition.” He squeezes me tightly, lifting me off the ground till my feet dangle in the air.

  When he sets me back on solid ground, I take a quick glance at the horizon searching one last time for one more firefighter to join the party. But like usual, he’s not here. And no matter how much I stare into the sunset, trying to conjure him up out of thin air, it’s not going to happen. He’s not coming.

  “You guys seriously just came out to celebrate with me?” I guess this isn’t our typical meeting. I was under the impression we were going to add more booze and girl talk to our usual festivities.

  “What’s a just-got-rid-of-my-ball-and-chain party without some man candy?” Owen holds up his guns and flexes his arms.

  “Molly wanted to get you a stripper, but I talked her out of it,” Rose says. Sometimes I forget she’s here. Whenever Jesse is around, she shrinks into the shadows trying not to get caught sneaking longing glances his way.

  “Well, what the hell did you do that for?” I’m joking, of course. The only strippers I wouldn’t be opposed to are those from Magic Mike. Give me a little Channing, Joe, or Matt anytime. Hell, I’d even take that Number Four kid.

  Justin pulls on my boa and drapes it around his neck. “We can always take off our clothes for you, ladies.”

  Wow. It’s really starting to get hot out here. I glance at Rose and her cheeks are all shades of red. Rachel is smiling like an idiot. Molly is digging into her purse.

  “I got a stack of ones. I can make it rain, baby!” she shouts.

  “How would your booty call feel about that?” Justin asks her. While we all know Molly is a widow, we’re also very aware of the fact she does indulge in the late night entertainment of a man whenever she feels the need to scratch an itch. I’ve even seen one drive up and down the street and pull in and out of her garage, but the tinting on his black Audi S7 is like the privacy glass of a limousine. “I’m starting to think he’s not real.”

  “Oh, he’s real all right,” she says, arching a brow at Justin. Uh oh. She’s flirting with him. Again. Poor fella. If she ever decides she’s back on the market, that boy is in trouble. “Now, are we going to celebrate or what?” She changes the subject, like always. A subject we have discussed many times in the past. Rose, Rachel, and I have actually had some hilarious times talking about the mysterious friend of our neighbor. Rose thinks he must look like the Hunchback. Rachel thinks he’s a vampire because he only comes and goes in the dark. Me? I have no clue. I imagine he must be just hideous for her to keep him under lock and key. Maybe my neighbor is screwing a serial killer and we don’t know it. Now, that’s a thought.

  “Let’s take this party out of the public eye,” the Boss says, as a car slowly passes by The Lookout.

  My eyes find Molly. She put a lot of effort into bringing all this stuff down here so it’s up to her. “Molly?”

  “What the hell. Pack it up, gentlemen, and throw it in the back of your truck. And then you’re giving us a ride up the hill to the party girl’s house.”

  Rose points in my direction. “Party at your house, Liz?”

  A chuckle rises from my belly. I pull my cell phone from my pocket. “Let me call my hubby and ask.” I laugh a little. “Oh, wait. I don’t have one.” But I do have a house. Thankfully, he kept to his promise for once and I got to keep it. It’s not like he wanted a family home anyway. He got his own bachelor pad, a swanky apartment in the city to match his swanky job. “Let’s go!”

  * * *

  It’s after one in the morning when the guys finally leave my house. Beer bottles and red Solo cups litter the granite counter in my kitchen and the coffee table in the family room. Pizza boxes are left on my stove and empty bags of chips are sticking out of the trash. I’m going to be hating life in the morning. A long run is in store, no doubt.

  I survey the mess and decide to save it until later. I live by myself. Who do I have to clean for?

  “Girl, that was some party,” Molly says. “I haven’t had this much to drink since I spiked the punch at prom.” We all giggle. There’s no doubt in my mind her story is true.

  “Thankfully, they left their clothes on,” I tell them. At one point, Jesse was about five seconds away from pulling down his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. He had already lost his shirt and pants in a chugging contest to Owen and decided to go all or nothing. Justin stopped him just as he was about to drop his drawers. I wish I would have had my camera ready to snap a shot of Rose. Her eyes were glued to his junk the whole time waiting to catch a glimpse.

  “So how does it feel, Liz?” Rachel asks.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “To be divorced,” she says.

  Molly tosses a throw pillow at my head. “To be rid of that jackass of an ex-husband of yours both physically and legally. Thank God you never had kids with that tool or you’d have been stuck with him forever.”

  I turn to Rose waiting for her to comment too. “I got nothing. I’m too drunk. I can’t even feel my face right now.” She taps on her teeth with her fingers, her eyes glazed over. “Unlike you lushes, I’ve never had this much to drink.”

  “What’s wrong with your teeth?” Rachel asks. I was just about to mention the same thing.

  “They’re zippy.” She taps on them again. “They’re rubbery. It’s like I can hear the bounce of a basketball every time I tap on them. Sure sign I’m wasted. Totally zippy. Zip. Zip. Zip.” There’s a definite slur in her words. “Thoink. Thoink. Thoink,” she mumbles as she continues to play with her teeth again.

  Poor Rose. She’s just too sweet and innocent sometimes. The three of us lushes laugh our asses off, but we waste little time clink
ing our nails on the enamel of our own front teeth.

  “Wouldn’t you know?” Molly says. “I hear it, too.”

  Rachel and I nod, agreeing with the others. “Weird,” I say.

  “Well?” Rachel asks in my direction, apparently done with the thoinking.

  I tuck my feet underneath me and grab the pillow to snuggle in my lap. How do I answer their question? How do I feel? “Not much different than yesterday. Jace has been gone for so long, the only thing that’s different is I’m not legally tied to him anymore. I felt divorced the moment he left.”

  I didn’t lose much sleep over the abrupt ending to our marriage. Sadness wasn’t an emotion I’ve felt since we split. It’s been more a feeling of relief. Like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. That’s not what should come to mind when you’re in the middle of a divorce, right? I guess that means I was more than ready to move on. In my heart, I had known for quite some time it was over.

  “I really want him to see you now,” Molly says. “God, I would love to see his arrogant face when you walked into the room. It would be priceless.”

  My eyes roll back in my head. She’s crazy. “He wouldn’t care.”

  Rachel clicks her tongue at me. “Like hell he wouldn’t. I’m surprised you haven’t set something up for him to get a good look. I know I would have.” She quickly stands, sashays a few steps and turns on the balls of her feet before doing a catwalk back. She stops with her hand on her hip, the epitome of sass. “I’d be doing my pageant walk back and forth saying ‘eat your heart out, asshole. Look at me now.’” She slides her hand down her side like Vanna White showing something on display before she sits back down.

  “You guys are too much. It’s not a big deal.”

  The girls each cast a raised brow in my direction. Then Molly rolls her eyes right back at me. “Not a big deal, my ass. I’d say losing the weight of a toddler is pretty significant.”

  It still feels weird when people talk about my weight. I feel just as self-conscious now than I did when I was bigger. It’s taken a lot of work to drop a few sizes. I’ve had to change a lot about my diet and I’ve also had to become friends with that damn Hill of Death. It’s not as hard as it used to be. I’ve even taken to running it. I have to admit. Each time I get to the top, I feel like Rocky climbing the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

 

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