Say You Love Me : a novel of romantic suspense and forbidden love (Reclaiming Heaven Book 1)

by E. R. Whyte

  The line moves again, and I realize it’s my turn. “Take care, Shane. Have a good night.” Cutting him off abruptly, I turn to place my order and don’t try to resume our conversation while my half-dozen is being boxed. Maybe he will take a hint.

  When the cashier finishes, she places the box in my hands. I turn with a bright smile, determined to make it out with a quick ‘goodnight,’ but shrug when I see that Shane is no longer there. Strange… I think, and leave, my mind already somewhere else.

  I’m juggling the boxed donuts in my left hand and digging for my key fob with my right in Karla’s too-large, too-dim parking lot when a hand descends on my shoulder and, as before, a voice speaks in my ear. “Hey, again, sweet cheeks.” I jump a foot and my donuts go flying, scattering on the asphalt. My donuts, I think hysterically. My precious. I jerk around to see Shane, who employs a grain of common sense and backs a foot away.

  “What in the fresh hell, Shane! What are you doing, sneaking up on a woman in a dark parking lot? You made me drop my donuts! And stop calling me sweet cheeks!”

  “Whoa, whoa…” He puts his hands up. “You need to calm down.”

  T Swizzle starts playing in my head and it amps up my aggravation meter.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down, you clueless numb nuts! You owe me two maple bacon bars, two Boston creams, and two smores.” When he stands there, jaw agape, I snap my fingers. “Chop, chop, Shane. Time’s a’wasting.”

  With a smirk, he shakes his head. “God, you’re sexy when you’re mad.” I can’t prevent a growl from escaping as he goes back inside Karla’s to do as I’ve requested. Opening my car door, I sit and wait, resigning myself to ending up with a half-dozen different donuts than what I originally asked for.

  After a while, I start feeling sorry that I sent Shane back in to get more donuts. Maybe if I wasn’t so paranoid, I wouldn’t have dropped them in the first place. Maybe I shouldn’t have been quite as hard on him?

  When he returns, though, he’s still smiling his same easy, unperturbed grin. Leaning through the window I left open, he hands me the donuts. Opening the box, it’s a pleasant surprise to discover he ordered everything as directed.

  “Sorry I scared you, sweet—heart.”

  “Shiloh, Shane. Just Shiloh. And thank you. Apology, and donuts, accepted.”

  “Right. So, can I get a do-over? I just wanted to finish our conversation.”

  “Ah… I thought we were done?”

  “I wasn’t. I mean — Shiloh, you know I’ve always had a thing for you, right?”

  Oh, crap. “Shane. I can’t do this. We shouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “What do you mean? We’re old high school friends, for Pete’s sake.” It crosses my mind to wonder who Pete is, and if I should care about anything for his sake.

  “True, but now we work together. With teenagers. So, talking about a personal relationship seems kind of like stretching the rules.”

  “It’s not. I checked into it. There are no rules about colleagues dating.”

  “You checked.”

  “I did. So, what do you say? Would you like to go out sometime?” His expression is a peculiar blend of hopeful and trying-real-hard-to-be-sexy. I grip the steering wheel, the joints of my fingers whitening.

  “Shane… I just can’t. I’m sorry. I’m not interested in you in that way. There’s too much history, and in all honesty, you already had your chance.”

  “Too much something, for sure,” he mutters as he straightens up away from the car, his expression darkening.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “No,” he replies, sweeping a hand in front of him as though being gracious. “You need to chill with the whole history thing, Shy. It was eons ago. I’m sorry. I said I was—”

  My temper, never known for being particularly restrained, flares. “You said you were sorry, yes. Sometimes sorry isn’t enough. I don’t think you understand what a big deal it was.” I pause for breath. I hadn’t even realized I had all of that stored up. “You were the one guy I gave the time of day to, Shane. I was carrying a lot of baggage—”

  “From your parents, I know.”

  “Yeah. And you did the one thing that is unforgivable for me. I’m sorry. You can be a nice guy, Shane. Funny. Attractive. But you’re also conceited and arrogant and careless with people’s feelings, and I have no desire to be tied to that.”

  Shane stares off into the distance, backlit by Karla’s Kuppa’s fluorescent sign.

  Then, “Be sure, Shiloh. I won’t ask again.”

  “That’s your response?”

  He studies me for a long moment, his blue eyes glinting in the soft multi-hued light as he turns his head. Then, strides long and angry, he walks away.

  Shaking my head, I drive home.

  A Skype visit with Cotton is calling my name when I arrive home. I need to talk to her, hash all this stuff out face-to-face with someone I trust. Sunday nights are usually good for a chat on her end, even if it’s off our normal schedule, so I send her a message letting her know that I’ll be online as usual if she’s available.

  A ping alerts me while I’m shoving a bite of maple bacon in my mouth. “Heyyy, chickadee! How’s my most beautifullest friend in the whole—is that from Karla’s? You bitch! How dare you eat Karla’s in front of me, knowing I have not eaten one of those amazing sugary confections in… God, I don’t know how long it’s been. It’s torture. You are a bad, bad woman, Shiloh Brookings. Anyway —”

  “Cottonball! Shut it, girlfriend! Word in edgewise.” Knowing from experience that Cotton will ramble all night long if I don’t break her flow, I interrupt with no shame. “Big hugs, babe. I miss you like crazy.”

  “Same.”

  For just a moment, we are both quiet, taking each other in. It’s been a couple of weeks since we’ve talked. Cotton’s deployment and the nature of her job renders her ability to connect uncertain, so we snatch minutes where we can, thankful for each one. She looks good, her platinum blonde hair neatly wound around her head in a mass of coiled braids. When she was little, Cotton’s hair was a wild mass of short, white curls, prompting the nickname Cottonball, and later, just Cotton. The baby curls later sleeked into a straight, gorgeous fall of platinum, but the name still stuck. She’s wearing an olive tee shirt that contrasts with her sun-kissed skin. If I had to guess, I’d say she was deployed somewhere south of the border. She looks healthy, muscles and curves alike showing under her fatigues, but she also looks tired, her green eyes just a little duller than usual. I tell her so.

  “That’s some set of matching luggage you have there, Cotton. You getting enough sleep?”

  “Yeah, yeah, Mom. You know how it is. What’s happening in your neck of the woods?” She diverts in so graceful a manner if you weren’t accustomed to it, you’d miss it. I let it slide, though, understanding that there’s not a great deal she can tell me about her situation.

  “Cotton… things are crazy around here,” I say, instead. Cotton leans forward, closer to the computer’s camera. Her voice lowers.

  “Spill. I want all the deets. Is this about that sexy Gunner?”

  “No! Not all of it, anyway. Some of it, I guess.”

  She railroads right over me. “Have you done the deed, yet? Tell me that’s why you needed a Cotton Call. Did he give you sweet, sweet love, Shy?” In the background, hoots and whistles rise, and even though I don’t know these guys and they don’t know me, my cheeks flame. I hear the screech of metal as folding chairs are pulled up beside Cotton’s, and several other faces, all male, fill the tiny screen.

  “Did he butter your biscuit, sweetheart?” A face with close-trimmed dark hair and a faint shadowy beard dips into view, brown eyes dancing. “Because if he didn’t, I can come home with Cotton when she takes leave and —” Cotton elbows him.

  “Knock it off, Cruz. I told you, only if she was still available.”

  “What the hell, Cotton? Hav
e you been trying to set me up?”

  “Of course not. But how about it?” She turns back to me. “Did you guys do any—?” She makes an unmistakable gesture with her forefinger.

  “What? Oh, Cotton, no more. Please.”

  “You’re right. You’re totally new at this. Guys, help me out. She could’ve bumped uglies and not realized it. Especially if he wasn’t any good.” There are sage nods and assenting sounds all around.

  “Did he check the oil?” One suggests, making a helpful gesture that has me shaking my head.

  “Cream the Twinkie?”

  “God, no?”

  “Why the hell not? It’s delicious.” My eyebrow raises.

  “Get up in them guts?”

  “For the love of God, Cotton—”

  “I can go all night.”

  “I will tell you everything, but I swear, I did not give a dog a bone or anything else like that. I’ll let you know when that most momentous occasion occurs, though, I promise.”

  She sits back. “Hmpf. You’d better. I swear, I do not know what is wrong with you. I’d be all over that like white on rice.”

  “I do not doubt it. Your mama would be proud, babe. But anyway. Like I was saying when I was so rudely interrupted for a lesson in sex euphemisms… it’s been a weird day.”

  “Weird day with no sex.” The guys gathered around Cotton pull back a little, bottles of beer in their hands and quiet conversation ensuing as they leave us to our own conversation.

  “Correct.” Settling in more comfortably in front of the computer, I continue. “Okay, so first, Gunner and I went to visit Sammy. Gunner made this big apology for not coming to see him sooner, which I thought was super sweet. And unnecessary.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well…I just felt badly for him. Gunner, I mean. I get it. He feels guilty because he never went to see him. He’s not the only one who’s ever ghosted like that with that kind of situation, though. And he was a kid. I’m proud of him for standing up and admitting he didn’t know how to handle the emotional baggage. I’m proud of the way Sammy handled it, too.”

  “Sammy’s pretty damn special.”

  “He is. Then Dr. Adams comes in, and Cotton, I kid you not, it’s like a pair of roosters about to fight. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “A pair of cocks, huh?”

  “Cotton. Girl. I’m not so sure the military, surrounded by men, was the best career option for you.”

  “Meh. Just ignore me. Sex on the brain.”

  “You’re surrounded by dudes, so what’s the problem?”

  “There’s that whole little no fraternization policy.” Without even looking over, the guys around Shiloh give a thumbs down and boo.

  “Oh.” I think for a moment. “Vibrator?” A couple of the guys look very interested in her answer, and Cotton smashes her hands into their faces, shoving them away.

  “Go. Away. And. Jerk. Off.” Looking back at me, she rolls her eyes. “Not the same, chica. I’ll be back home soon, though, and I fully plan on finding me some man meat at that time.”

  “Alrighty then. So back to the roosters. They did everything but whip them out and measure, Cotton.”

  “Okay, so what’s the problem?”

  “Um, what’s not wrong with that? What am I supposed to do with them? I have no idea with why Dr. Adams would be acting all territorial, and Gunner should not be acting like a jealous idiot in public. That just draws attention to me. I probably shouldn’t have invited him to come see Sammy with me, even though they are old friends. Hanging out with a student like that… I know better.”

  “Hanging out.” Ever the one to call me on my shit, Cotton makes quote marks with her fingers.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “But do you know what you mean? You’re being awfully avoidant, Shy. If you’re attracted to the guy, admit it.”

  “I can’t, Cotton! I will lose my effing job—”

  “Okay, calm down. First—you’re right. Gunner shouldn’t be acting like that and drawing attention to the fact that you two might have something other than the typical teacher-student relationship. So, you might think about sitting down and having a rational, adult conversation with him about that.”

  She stresses the words rational and adult, and I nod. “In other words, don’t treat him like a child.”

  “Because he’s not a child, is he, Shiloh?”

  “I wouldn’t feel this way if he was.”

  “Now you’re getting it. Second. As far as Dr. Hottie goes, you don’t do a thing. Just keep your boundaries in place, keep things professional as always, and if he’s not a complete nut job, he should be able to take a hint. Maybe it just took him seeing you with a guy to think of you romantically, if that makes sense. Up until now, it’s been strictly doctor-patient family. After he sees you with Gunner, it’s bam. Where have you been all my life?”

  I wave my hand to dismiss that. “Speaking of nutjob. Shane Reasor. Remember him?”

  “Of course. You made it your life’s work to break the poor guy’s heart, over and over, and over again, each of the fifty-seven times you rejected him middle school through high school.”

  “What should a guy expect of the girl he cheated on, hmm? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice—”

  “By now, I’m sure he figured all was forgiven, and maybe you had both grown up a little.”

  “I’m plenty grown, thank you. And maybe I was a little harsh tonight, but I am so over this whole sweet cheeks bullshit persona he puts on, this big man on campus—”

  “Okay, chickadee. Take a breath. What happened tonight?” Cotton’s voice is calm and steady. Doing as she says, I inhale and hold, then release in increments before explaining the events at Karla’s Kuppa. Except for a wince when I quote the tongue-lashing I gave Shane, she doesn’t react.

  “So? Thoughts?”

  Cotton leans back in her chair and eyes me through narrowed green eyes. “I think you wouldn’t have wanted to talk if you didn’t already know what I was going to say.”

  I scoff. “Well, that’s not true. Why would I ask for your opinion if I already knew it?”

  “Because you know you acted bitchy, but you need me to tell you that.”

  Shaking my head, I counter the truths she’s zinging my way. “Nope. The truth is I am kind of sorry I acted like a bitch, if it’s being a bitch to say ‘no’ to a guy—”

  Cotton lifts her shoulder in an elegant shrug at the same time a chorus of male voices in the background says, “Cotton’s our bitch!”

  “—good lord, are they still listening?”

  “Yes!”

  “Keep going, please! This is better than Grey’s Anatomy,” a voice says. Cotton just smirks.

  “Okay, whatever. So sorry for being a bitch, but at the same time, he kind of worries me, Cotton. Don’t you think some of the stuff he does is kind of stalkerish? Sneaking up on me, not taking the hint, obsessing… I have a stalker, Cotton. I can’t just overlook him.”

  “I hadn’t thought about him from that perspective,” Cotton admits. “It’s difficult for me to see; I’ll be honest. I’ve never had the issues with Shane that you do.”

  “You’ve never been the object of his affection.”

  “Fair point.” She considers. “Okay. You need to at the very least keep a detailed log of all interactions with him. Dates, times, occurrence, what, if anything, seemed strange. Clothes he was wearing. That sort of thing. The information may be useful at some point.” She looks at the man nearest her. I can just barely make him out in the corner of the screen. “Thoughts?”

  He pulls his fingers through his beard, thinking. “I think no means no and this guy should’ve backed off a long time ago. Keep the log. Tell someone there, preferably your man.”

  I breathe out the air I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Got it.” I study the screen again. “I miss you, Cotton.”

  “It’s going
to be okay, chickadee.” Her voice is soft but tempered with strength and resolve. “Say the words.”

  I close my eyes.

  I speak the words.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  32

  Him

  She must be punished.

  I’ve tried so hard, waited so long, but it’s clear now that she is like all the rest.

  A tease.

  Faithless.

  Disloyal.

  All is not lost, though. She’s been good for so long; I’m confident this is just her way of acting out. When all of the distractions have been removed, she’ll return to the sweet Shiloh I know.

  She just needs to learn a lesson.

  Breaking into her classroom is a task ridiculous in its ease. The night janitor is on the other side of the campus when I jimmy the lock and slip inside, closing it behind me with a snick. Darkness envelopes me, broken by the faint illumination from the parking lot lights shining in the windows. I stalk the shadows of the room, pausing here to brush my hand over the stool she sat upon; stopping there to wind the long, striped scarf she left on the back of her seat around my neck. I bring the tail of it to my nose and inhale. It smells of her, vanilla and something fruity. Opening her desk drawer, I see a tube of Chapstick and swipe it across my lips, licking them to taste her. I slip that in my pocket.

  Then I tuck the tails of the scarf into my jacket so they won’t get in the way, set the can of paint I have in my hand down on a desk, and crack it open. Choosing my canvas, I begin to paint in long, steady strokes. I’ve been subtle, but the time for subtlety is past.

  It’s time she understood who she belongs to. Me.

  When I saw that Gunner Ford hanging around her, putting his hands on what is mine, wrath like I have never felt before speared through me. It felt good, though. Clarifying. Cleansing. I knew what I needed to do.

  Gunner needs to go.

  I’ll let it be his decision… I’m sure he’s simply a fascinated kid, ruled by his cock. I’ll take care of that fascination.