On Solid Ground: Sequel to in Too Deep

Home > Other > On Solid Ground: Sequel to in Too Deep > Page 13
On Solid Ground: Sequel to in Too Deep Page 13

by Michelle Kemper Brownlow


  “Hey.” A deep voice broke through my embarrassment, and a tall body slid onto the bench with me. One look at the Doc Marten’s sticking out below his jeans told me who it was. I quickly slipped my journal back into my bag.

  “How are you, Calon?” I leaned back as he stretched his arm out over the back of the bench.

  “Can’t complain. Looks like you survived the other night.”

  We both nodded. Awkward. He studied the look on my face. I didn’t know what expression I held, but inside I was trembling. His presence was so huge, and you only had to see him perform once to know the man was not afraid of confrontations with his emotions. I didn’t know how to handle him. It was like I was afraid he would suck feelings out of me I wasn’t ready to give up. I forced a smile and looked down at my phone in my hands.

  “Gracie, I don’t bite.” He ducked his head, trying to make eye contact.

  I looked up at him out of the corner of my eye and giggled. “I know that, dummy.”

  “Dummy? That’s a new one. Well, now that you’re clear I don’t bite, why do you always seem so scared of me? I’m really a nice guy. I’m actually pretty sensitive.” He patted himself on the chest as if to remind me he had a heart. He looked around and whispered, “But don’t tell anyone. I have a rocker mojo to live up to.”

  “Calon, I know you’re sensitive. I’ve been watching you perform for years. You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

  “So, here I am, sensitive guy, just lounging on a bench, reconnecting with a girl I met a long time ago.”

  “You’re just so freaking intense, Calon. I’m a little intimidated by that. Who am I kidding, I am a lot intimidated by it.” I couldn’t believe I just admitted all that to him.

  He chuckled and threw his head back. His curls bounced around and back into place when he lifted his head and looked me in the eyes.

  “We’re artists, Gracie. We’re intense.”

  “No. You’re the artist, and I’m about as intense as your average tree-hanging sloth.”

  “Your intensity when you sang at Mitchell’s last weekend knocked the wind from me.”

  “I was drunk, Calon. I grew those balls from all the shots I’d done with Becki prior to our breaking and entering.”

  He flashed a smile that could melt the clothes right off any one of his groupies. I actually looked down and adjusted my tank top to make sure my own clothes were still intact since I had once held groupie status.

  “Listen, I know what it feels like to have a couple beers to take the edge off before a gig. But I don’t think the shots gave you courage. The alcohol just lowered the wall you have up all the time. And the intensity you hold is behind that wall.”

  He dropped his arm and laid it across my shoulders. I looked up at him and was surprisingly okay with him touching me.

  “Calon?”

  “Yeah, Gracie?”

  “The day we ran into each other at The Garage?” He nodded. “On our walk, I was busting on you about never calling me. You said something and that’s when it got intense.”

  “I said, ‘You have no idea.’” He said those four words again with the same level of angst he had that day in front of the café.

  I couldn’t breathe. The look in his eyes captured me and time stood still. I nodded so I didn’t look like a star-struck idiot.

  “Gracie.” He drew in a slow, deep breath. “I felt something the night we kissed I can’t explain to this day. You wrecked me. I felt this connection then.” He waved his hand between us.

  I couldn’t deny it. It was that intense connection that scared me. I couldn’t interpret it. I didn’t know where it came from, and it confused the hell out of me. My mouth went dry. Admitting we shared something I couldn’t explain made me feel very vulnerable. I thought back to what seemed like irrational jealousy from Jake when he saw me with Calon. It hit me that Jake had picked up on our connection even before I had. No wonder he was such a mess that day.

  “So, our connection is what your comment referred to?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “Calon, I’m going to be bare-assed honest with you.” I couldn’t believe what I was about to say, but I had decided the night I walked away from Jake that I was going to start being honest with myself and not push my feelings out of the way to protect people’s feelings.

  “I do feel the connection we have, and I don’t know what to do with it. I am madly in love with Jake, but we’re taking a break while I exorcise some demons. So, I’m afraid to be comfortable with us and this intensity. I’m at a really weak point in my life right now. I’m broken, and it would kill me if something happened between us that could ruin what I have with Jake.”

  “I want you to be comfortable with me, because I’d love to help you with your music. That’s part of what draws us together.”

  I scoffed. “My music? Calon, that was an inebriated performance. I don’t have music.”

  “God, Gracie! You are so frustrating. How can you deny it? What poured out of you that night was incredible. Would you play again for me?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  He took my phone from my hands and punched his number in. The sound of a motorcycle revving came from his ass. He pulled his phone out and looked at the screen.

  “Oh, look. A text from Gracie.” He smiled. “Now, you can call me should you need an audience of one. I’m your one. And I promise to be nothing less than bare-assed honest with you.”

  “Okay, while we’re baring our asses—”

  “Well, Gracie, that’s quite forward of you.” We laughed.

  “Would you read something for me?”

  He motioned toward my bag. “Hand it over.” He must’ve have seen my tuck it away. He was way too observant.

  He held my journal in his lap with both hands, eyes locked on what I’d written. He looked up at me and back down at the page a couple times before he cleared his throat. He stared for what seemed long enough to have read it eighteen times. I sat patiently, but after a while, I realized what was going on.

  “Okay. It’s terrible. You can say it. It’s really okay because I thought it was, too.” I snatched the journal from his hands and shoved it back into my bag. I started to get up, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down.

  “Gracie, who hurt you?”

  I stared at his strong hand that held me by the wrist. He was gentle but adamant that I not leave the bench. His intensity was still high, but a little less intimidating. I didn’t want to answer that question. I didn’t like sharing my experience with Noah. I didn’t even like saying his name. I thought back to what Sylvia had said, if I continued to pretend Noah didn’t exist, it would be harder to heal and let scabs form over the scars he’d left.

  It was then I decided I needed to start using my story, my past with Noah, as a building block for who I wanted to be and how I wanted to live. I needed to be able to talk about it without choking up or starting to shake. Who better to share my deepest, darkest emotions with than someone whose soul lived on the outside of his body?

  “My ex-boyfriend was emotionally abusive. I allowed him to hurt me for way too long, and he broke me in more ways than one. The poem is about him and how he made me feel.” A tear slipped from the corner of my eye.

  Calon wiped it away, and I saw something in his eyes that told me our connection had hit a new level. There was empathy evident in the tilt of his head. We were both sitting on the edge of the bench, and he gently took my hands in his. About a thousand butterflies flew into my stomach.

  “I’m so sorry, Gracie.”

  “It’s okay. It’s over.”

  “It’s never okay, don’t you get that? Never!” His voice surpassed intense. It was filled with hate and outlined with hurt.

  “You’re right. It’s not. I’m struggling to work through all the shit now. It’s part of the reason I stayed at UTK for the summer.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “Me, too.” Why was he glad I staye
d? Was I giving Calon the wrong idea?

  “Have you heard the song ‘Hurt Makes it Beautiful’ by Hugo?”

  I shook my head and tried to hold in an ocean of tears from the triggered memories of my painful past with Noah, but also from the overwhelming emotions I felt from opening up to Calon and the deep sincerity in his face.

  “Promise me you’ll listen to it.”

  “I will.”

  “Gracie...”

  “Yeah?”

  “You really are incredibly talented. You’ve stolen my breath twice now, once with your voice and once with your writing. Please don’t stop doing either. They will be your best medicine, trust me.”

  He stood and pulled me into his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around me, and his hand slid to the back of my neck as he rocked me ever so gently. I melted and burst into tears, completely comfortable with being in his arms. There was something safe about the way he held me.

  This wasn’t his way of making a move on me. Calon hurt for me. His persona was way too big for one person. Calon Ridge had enough emotion and sensuality for the entire band, and it was all housed within his tall, slender physique.

  On the way home, I downloaded the Hugo song. The acoustic guitar at the beginning immediately captivated me. I sat down alone on another bench and took in a song that described both how Noah sold me on his lies and why he did what he did; he’d cut me just to heal me. The words were painful to listen to and had my body covered in goosebumps in no time, but it validated the hell I’d lived through. Hugo’s words had a blinded-by-love theme. It struck me that lyrics I’d never heard before had the same tone and emotion I’d written in “Whisper.”

  The realization that there were others out there who’d fought against similar demons lifted just a little more weight from my heart. I was comforted by the notion that I didn’t stand alone; I was one of many. My soul took a cleansing breath and moved a little closer to the surface.

  Thank you, Calon.

  Twenty-two

  Jake

  My feet pounded against the street and my fists were clenched. I’d just seen Gracie in the arms of another man. I was out of breath and sweating profusely. I rubbed the sweat from my eyes and tried not to translate what my brain was telling me was right in front of me, both figuratively and literally.

  The pain in my chest wasn’t from the expansion of my lungs from my run; it was the feeling of my heart breaking. I’d always prided myself on being true to my word, and I’d told Gracie I would be her best friend no matter what. No matter what. But...when I stood in the midday sun and watched the other half of my heart connect with a man who could possibly offer her more than I could, I wasn’t sure I could keep that promise. Had she sought out his comfort over mine?

  At the end of last semester, when she and I danced at Mitchell’s to Alternate Tragedy’s new single, “Fallen”, it was Calon’s words that brought the truth from Gracie’s lips. The way she looked at me the moment she told me she loved me would stay with me forever. And now that same man’s words threatened to steal her from me.

  It took all my self-control not to charge over, rip his hands off her, and beat the living shit out of him for trying to move in where he didn’t belong. I was seething with jealousy. I watched him wipe what must have been tears from her cheeks. He bent down and looked her in the eyes, said something, and gave her one more hug. They went their separate ways, and I was relieved there was no kiss. I would have lost it if his lips had come any closer to hers.

  My attempt to run off my anger helped a little, so I grabbed lunch downtown and took it back to my apartment. Distracting myself with food and a hot shower failed miserably. The only thing on my mind was the visual of Gracie in Calon’s arms. But there was one more possibility for distraction, the heap of laundry in my room. I threw it all in a basket and headed for the corner laundromat.

  Head down, I walked in and straight to the washer I knew wouldn’t steal my money and dumped my clothes on the floor.

  “You shouldn’t be so rough with your clothes.” Her voice. I turned and fell back against the open washer and crossed my arms. I searched my heart for something to say.

  “Jake?”

  I was so angry. When I looked at her, I saw Calon...with his hands on her. He had just touched her gently, wiped her tears, and held her close. He had taken his connection with Gracie way too far.

  “Gracie?” I knew it sounded sarcastic when I’d said it, but it was all I could muster. It was just her name, but in question form, it clued her in to my mood.

  “What’s wrong with you?” She giggled uncomfortably and seemed a little more than shocked by my attitude.

  I was done pussyfooting around. If I wanted an open and honest relationship with Gracie then I’ll be damned if I continue to watch what I said and soften my tone just to keep her healing on target.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just sick of always being the one that hangs on while you keep yourself enamored with other guys. Dammit, Gracie.” I hated the way my voice sounded. I wasn’t used to the lack of control I felt over my life. It was incredibly unsettling, and I started to feel as though my relationship with Gracie hung in the balance.

  “What?” She moved toward me and I had to look away

  “Gracie, I’m not an idiot. I see the way you look at him. I know there’s a connection between you two that we will never share.”

  “Who?” She took a step back.

  “You know who. You and Calon. Face it. You’re attracted to him.”

  “Of course I’m attracted to him, Jake. Just like I’m attracted to Sam or Maverick because we have things in common. Sam and I love Pearl Jam, and Maverick shares my love for the beach. But that’s it.”

  “Gracie, you’re full of shit. It wouldn’t take much for him to seduce you.”

  “I’m offended, Jake. I wouldn’t sleep with Calon.” She looked away from me and shook her hair off her shoulders, obviously a bit uncomfortable with my observations.

  “I saw the two of you with your hands all over each other? I was there, Gracie.”

  “Jake, what the hell are you talking about? You were where?”

  “In the park, oh, I don’t know, about an hour and a half ago. You and Calon were on a bench and then he pulled you up into his arms. I swear to God, Gracie Jordan, if he had kissed you, I would have put my fist down his throat!” I took a step toward her, my fists clenched and by my side.

  “Shhh. People are staring. You’re freaking out over nothing.”

  “I don’t care if people are staring. Let them stare. Because I’m not doing anything anyone else in my position wouldn’t do. And, yes, I am freaking out!”

  “Your position? What is your position, Jake?” She crossed her arms and tilted her head; a pissy attitude brewed right under the surface.

  “Oh, you know my position well, Gracie Ann.” Yeah, I pulled the middle name card, but my blood was boiling. “It’s the position you’re forced into when the person you love seems to be, oh, I don’t know, intrigued or distracted by someone just a little bit more interesting than you. Forging a new relationship is exciting and sexually charged, but when you’re watching the girl of your dreams forge one with someone else, it’s gut wrenching. I’m sure you spent a lot of time in the shoes I’m in right now. But unlike you, I won’t stand for it. I refuse to stand by and let Calon pull you away from me.” Wow. That was a mouthful, none of which went through a filter.

  “You think you’re in my shoes right now because you saw me in deep conversation with someone? You think that’s how my shoes fit last year? Well, let me give you a taste of what standing in my shoes feels like, Jake!”

  She was livid. I probably shouldn’t have let the shoes thing out, but I felt like I had lost control of the only thing I held onto for dear life. Gracie.

  “My shoes were heavy Jake, heavier than any you’ve ever worn. You’ve had it easy in the relationship department; you haven’t even come close to being in my shoes!” Now she was being l
oud.

  “So, explain to me what you feel for him then. Help me understand why I shouldn’t be foaming at the mouth with jealousy right now.”

  “I feel a connection with him because of his artistic side. I’m fascinated by his depth and the courage he has to bare his soul in the music he writes.”

  “So, you don’t feel connected to him because you two kissed?” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. My knuckles ached from having them clenched for so long.

  She tucked her chin and shifted her weight. “Well...”

  “You do. Your past with Calon still has you enamored with him.”

  She blushed. “To be honest, Jake, yes, it probably does. But, I assure you, it’s not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

  “Enlighten me, Gracie.” I crossed my arms.

  “Jake, I guess it’s infatuation.”

  I actually grunted. That comment knocked the air right out of me.

  “I’m flattered he still remembers our kiss. I love that he seems to be just as intrigued by me as I am of him. But I’m not infatuated with Calon. I’m infatuated with the idea of someone like Calon being interested in me...at all. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m lacking in the self-confidence department. But I don’t love him, Jake. I love you. You!”

  “Gracie, I won’t lose you again. I can’t explain what I felt when I saw him holding you.” I stepped back and leaned back against the washer.

  “You’re not going to lose me, Jake. Calon was reading something I wrote, and I told him a little about my past, and he comforted me when I got emotional. You’re really blowing this all out of proportion.” She hesitated coming any closer.

  “So, what you’re saying is, worrying I’m going to break up with you every time Jess calls me isn’t blowing something out of proportion, but losing my shit when I catch another guy holding you and touching you is?”

  “Jake.”

  She had nothing. There was nothing she could say that would make me feel comfortable with the relationship she was building with Calon. She came toward me, and I held up my hand.

 

‹ Prev