eyond Desire Collection

by JS Scott, M Malone, Marie Hall, et al

  My fingers clench into her thigh.

  “Never.” I shake my head, having to make her understand. “Never, angel. I’d kill myself first.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut and I realize my poor choice of words.

  “What I meant to say was—”

  “Stop, Ryan. Up until a couple months ago, I hadn’t even been thinking about that night. Because you gave me no reason to. But I know whatever caused you to do that last Valentine’s Day is still lingering, still waiting, and all I want to know is, can I trust you with my heart?”

  I love this woman so much.

  “Because I have to tell you,” she continues, “I’m pretty sure it’s already yours.”

  Crossing my heart, I look her square in the eye and say as solemnly as I can, “You won’t regret it.”

  “I hope not, Ryan. I really do.”

  Laying her head back on me, I stroke the outside curve of her ribs, looking but not really seeing the patterns on the screen, it’s all just chaos in my head.

  Can I do this?

  I thought I’d been doing so good.

  Until the night the dreams returned. Then I’d become the other guy, the messed-up loser who doesn’t know how to function in society.

  I want to prove to her that I’m better than this. Better than the man she saw in the ring last night.

  As I rub her back, I pray.

  I haven’t done it in years because if there is a God, I don’t think he gives a damn about me. But I’m terrified of losing her and I’ll take any sort of advantage at this point.

  I ask him to show me how to fix this. Not just with Lili, but fix me. Make me not hate myself so much, not want to kill my uncle, learn to let it go, to forget and breathe and not give that man any more power over my life.

  But if he hears me, I don’t know it.

  “So next week’s Thanksgiving.” She peers at me from beneath her lashes. “What are you and Alex doing?”

  “Coming here?” I raise my brow hopefully.

  “You better.” She pats my chest.

  Chapter Twenty

  Liliana

  Javi’s in the back seat, and it’s a beautiful, nippy Texas night. Since last night we’ve been doing that sort of tap-dancing thing, all awkward glances and shy smiles and a million questions are burning in my brain.

  I haven’t forgotten, but I really do believe Ryan is going to try. Do I buy that it was just that arrogant ass calling me a puta that set him off? Not entirely. Because I’ve seen men fight before. There’s always a certain level of bravado and machismo associated with it, not the blank, disassociated look that still makes me tremble when I remember it.

  But if I keep thinking about that, I’ll go absolutely insane. The heart wants what it wants—that’s what everyone says and I guess it’s true, because I know I’m finding reasons not to tackle the root of him.

  And deep down I think it’s because the second I do, I’ll have to make a choice. An absolute yes or no. There won’t be any shades of gray for us.

  Another Fleetwood song drifts softly through the speakers and I smile seeing Ryan tap the steering wheel with his fingers.

  If I let myself, I can sometimes believe I really can have it all.

  He slept at my house last night. Mama had been surprised, and Javi had worn a secret smile all morning.

  Forging ahead seemed like the way to go with this thing. Don’t look back, don’t analyze, just move and breathe and remember that today is a new day.

  We’ve been in the car almost an hour and a half by this point; my butt’s growing numb. Shifting on my seat, trying to get blood to circulate through my legs again, I wiggle my toes.

  “You excited to go ice skating, Javier?” Ryan glances in the rearview.

  I love how he always tries to include my son in the conversation. There are so many things about Ryan that I love.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I grin as Javi’s slight frame trembles with anticipation beneath his blue-jean jacket.

  Ryan twines his fingers through mine, bringing them to his lips. “We good?”

  He’d been asking me variants of that all morning. I feel bad that he’s so insecure about us, but I can’t say I blame him. I’m feeling the exact same way. “Baby, when we’re not, I promise to tell you so.”

  Smile tight, he turns onto the Schlitterbahn exit. Soon we’re parking and Javi’s literally wiggling in his seat.

  He hates water, but doesn’t mind the frozen kind. For two months out of every year the water park turns itself into a wintery wonderland. The entire façade gets decorated with pines and lights, and the smells of buttery popcorn and spicy hot chocolate tease my senses.

  Walking through the gates, sun setting slowly behind us, bright white lights glowing like fireflies all around, I forget this is Texas.

  A huge red and white arrow with large childish print on it reads: North Pole.

  Rubbing his hands together, Javi tilts up on his toes. His eyes are wide and glassy and flitting between my feet and the rosy red cottage a hundred meters down the gentle slope.

  Slipping on white mittens, I pat them together. “I think he wants to see Santa. You mind?”

  Ryan shakes his head. “Course not, this night is for him. Whatever he wants.”

  Javi and his bionic ears—the moment he hears our agreement, he’s dashing downhill, though he makes sure to give wide berth to anyone walking too close beside him.

  Gripping my fingers, Ryan drags me after him.

  By the time we get to him, I’m breathless with laughter. The entrance to Santa’s tent has white flakes shooting from a small black box affixed to the corner.

  Holding out his hand, Javi studies the dots of manufactured snow that fall into it.

  Thankfully, Santa isn’t pulling kids onto his lap. This Santa is reading and it’s one of Javi’s favorites: T’was the Night Before Christmas.

  The actor playing the part couldn’t have looked more perfect, round and pink cheeked with a huge, fluffy white beard. Javi sits in front of him, his legs crossed and completely smitten—hanging on to each and every word as he stares at Santa’s big black boots.

  Leaning into Ryan, I whisper, “He needed this, I think.”

  Turning me in his arms, Ryan encircles my waist and the memory of that night in the back of his car comes flooding back to me. A gathering warmth undulates through me, makes me ache and lean deeper into him.

  “I think we all did.” He fluffs my hair, and white powder drifts off it. “Close your eyes.”

  I close them and he fluffs at my lashes too.

  “Thanks,” I say, or at least I think I do. But the moment I look back at him, the words die on my tongue.

  His eyes are bluer than I’ve ever seen them and he’s speaking to me. A conversation with no words, it’s coming from deep in his soul.

  He looks so sad, so honest and broken, that I all I can do is nod and slip my hands under his shirt, sliding them up his warm back and pressing my palms tight against him.

  Jaw clenching, muscle flexing, he kisses my brows, my forehead, and then lightly touches his lips to my nose.

  And each touch is a question.

  Do you love me?

  Do you love me?

  Do you love me?

  My heart is a giant beating thing and each beat is an answer.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  A clearing throat and a low chuckle breaks the spell. I look up to see Santa wearing a smirk and a knowing twinkle. “Reading’s done.”

  Ryan doesn’t release my hand.

  Javi’s up and moving through the tent, studying the dozens of Christmas trees surrounding Santa’s golden throne, each one themed differently.

  One is clearly meant to scream Texas. From the rusted-out cowbells to the brightly painted red, white, and blue ceramic steer skulls to the cranberry and poinsettia ornaments plastered all over it, it’s the picture of a Texan motif.

  I point to one that has nothing but a d
azzling display of thousands of miniature lights.

  “Look, Javi.”

  “I think he’s a little busy,” Ryan whispers in my ear.

  “Figures.” I smirk, watching as my son stares in awe at a tree decorated with nothing but superhero ornaments.

  His small face is shining, cheeks flushed, his rosebud mouth a perfect o as he reaches out to handle the figurine of a crouching Spider-Man slinging a web between his legs.

  “Are these for sale?” Ryan asks an elf walking past.

  Plump and gray, the woman smiles and slides her glasses up her nose with a pudgy finger. “Not really.”

  She looks at Javi for a while before her eyes narrow. “Autistic?” she asks after a beat, then turns to me. I’m not sure what expression I’m wearing, but she pats my shoulder. “So’s my granddaughter. Odd the things that catch their fancy, huh?”

  Ryan digs into his back pocket. “I’ll pay whatever, he just really likes it.”

  I feel all squishy inside and find myself wishing we were just a tiny bit closer to home. Making love to him opened a dam I didn’t want to seal back up again.

  “Look.” Grandma Elf glances both ways. “I’m the boss tonight and I don’t think my boss is going to miss one small Spider-Man ornament.” Winking, she reaches over Javi’s head and slips it off the branch, handing it to him.

  Javi’s breath hitches as he takes it from her, fingers gliding along its shiny front.

  “Thank you,” I breathe.

  “Ah,” she says, waving me off, “makes me happy, and it’s the holiday season, right?” With another wave, she walks off.

  “Cocoa?” Ryan asks.

  “Javi? You want some?”

  I expect him to just start walking, what I did not see coming was for him to nod. Everything inside me goes utterly still. My feet are blocks of cement, and my pulse rolls like thunder.

  “Did he just…?” Ryan jerks his thumb at Javi.

  “You saw that too?”

  We smile at the same time. I want to hug Javier, pick him up and twirl him around, cuddle him to my breasts and make up for so many lost years.

  I must have started walking because I’m gently tugged back into Ryan’s chest. “Don’t rush this, Lili.”

  Swallowing hard, I force myself to stay put. “You’re right, I’m just… I’ve never seen him respond, Ryan. Not like that.”

  He brushes my bangs behind my ears with his knuckle, making me shiver.

  “Well, it is almost Christmas.” His smile makes my pulse stutter. I no longer even notice the scars on his face; they’re nothing more than a matrix. Like a framework of strings on a loom—if you look closely, you can pick out each individual strand, but step back and that’s when you see the full beauty of the picture. “Time for a miracle, right?”

  I laugh when Javi grunts and turns, walking out the entrance of the tent. “Guess he wants that cocoa.” I sniff, wiping my nose with the back of my mittened hand.

  The cocoa’s lukewarm and not all that great, but that doesn’t stop Javier from enjoying it. He now sports a giant whipped-cream mustache.

  There are several more booths set up; some of them roasting sugared nuts, others selling little odds and ends, and another one that’s doing face painting.

  The employees standing behind the counter are dressed in green elf clothes with red-and-white striped stockings and giant brown elf shoes that curl at the tips. They look perfect, right down to the enormous elf ears poking out from the sides of their head.

  A little boy about Javi’s age is sitting on a stool with his face tilted up as a boy elf draws a picture of Superman’s crest on his cheek.

  The night is turning crisper, especially since the sun set about half an hour ago. Shivering, I start to head toward the skate-rental area, needing the exercise to help warm up. Javier cuts in front of me and is standing by the counter where the boy’s sitting.

  “Javi,” I whisper, “do you want your face painted?”

  His jaw clenches as he stares at the book of drawings.

  The elf glances up at me. “I’ll be right with you guys, pick whatever you want. I can draw them all. Four bucks each.”

  Turning back to the little blond boy, he grabs the child’s jaw and tilts his face back up, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he shades the crest in black paint.

  His hands are all over the boy’s face and that won’t work.

  “Javi, he has to touch your face. Do you understand, papi? He’ll have to touch you.”

  Grunting, he shifts his back to me and points at the book, at the Spider-Man emblem. The elf is glancing at Javi from the corner of his eye with a frown.

  Probably thinks I’m nuts telling him all those things.

  “Javi, honey.” I step closer, my front almost pressed to his tiny back. “Let’s go skate, okay?”

  Shaking his head once roughly, Javi grunts harder and I lick my lips, sensing the rage getting ready to come. His knuckles whiten as he pounds his finger into the book.

  Wringing my hands, I turn to Ryan, hoping he’ll know what to do.

  The elf is done and with the little boy gone, he’s looking at us with a worried gleam in his eyes.

  Feeling the need to make him understand, I smile. “He’s autistic.”

  Still not looking like he gets it, he cocks his head.

  “Can I paint his face?” I ask hopefully.

  I’m terrible at drawing. Javi will wind up with red, blue, and black streaks, but at least he’ll think he’d gotten something cool.

  “Nah.” The boy shifts feet. “Can’t.”

  A press of families starts gathering behind us as if sensing the pending disturbance.

  Ready to yank Javi up and bolt back to the car before the rage really takes hold, I step up. But Ryan stops me with a gentle hold on my wrist.

  “Can you paint his face without touching any part of him?” he asks the boy.

  “That really bother him that much?” Elf Boy looks as if he doesn’t buy it.

  Hope springs eternal and I stroke Ryan’s back. This could work.

  “Yes, it really bothers him that much.” Waiting with bated breath, I dart a quick glance at Javi who’s tense, as if he knows and understands what’s happening.

  The boy scratches the back of his head. “Won’t look good, but yeah, I can try.”

  The relief is an icy balm.

  Patting the stool, he steps back. “Hop on up, then.”

  Facial features not changing in the slightest, Javier sits. But I know my baby, and I know the threat has passed. His shoulders are no longer straining, his hands are relaxed and open by his side.

  Hugging Ryan fiercely, I shake my head. “Thank you.”

  “Hey.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “It’s no big deal. Besides, what kid doesn’t want to wear Spider-Man on his face all night?”

  Staring into his face, I can’t stop smiling; my jaw is going to ache tonight.

  “So umm…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I guess you’re pretty pleased with me, right?”

  “Mmhhmm.” I nod.

  “Does that mean I get a treat?” His eyes glint.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Come home with me tonight. You and Javi.” He brushes his knuckles over my cheeks. “I’ve got an air mattress I can blow up for him. Boys like camping—it’ll be fun.”

  Leaning into his ear, I whisper, “And will we have some privacy?”

  Blowing air heavily through his mouth, he chuckles. “I’m pretty sure I can find a sock for our door.”

  Laughing, I hug him hard and watch as the poor elf tries to paint without touching. He’s right, it’s pretty awful.

  The spider in the center looks deformed—the left side of it is hanging much longer than the right like it’s suffered a stroke. And the blue and red paint is all mixed together, turning everything a messy, ugly purple and black.

  But Javi’s thrilled and when elf boy’s done, he hops off with his bird chest puffed out.
He keeps holding his cheek up all night, as if presenting it for my inspection.

  After that we rent our skates. We’ve been at it for close to thirty minutes before hunger drives us off the ice in search of hot dogs.

  I laugh as Javi shoves the last bite of his in his mouth. Coated in ketchup and paint, he looks a mess.

  Wetting a napkin, I clean him up the best I can. But he doesn’t like it, keeps grunting and pulling his head back and glaring at the sidewalk. I try to hurry, knowing if I push it too far he’ll throw a fit for sure.

  “Sit still, papi,” I plead, “or we won’t go back skating.”

  Glowering, he settles down.

  “What does that mean anyway?” Ryan tosses a dirty napkin into the wastebasket beside us.

  “What?” I ask, taking my eyes off Javi for a split second. Just long enough for my hand to slip and dab off some of the paint instead of the ketchup. Thankfully, Javi won’t notice. It’s only a little and right at the bottom corner.

  “Papi. What’s it mean?”

  Smirking, I lean back in my seat. “You still learning Spanish?” I make finger quotes when I say “learning.”

  “Trying.” He takes a sip of his tea.

  I cross my legs as Javi gets up and turns to stare at the skating rink. “It means little daddy.”

  “You serious?” His eyes sparkle. “That’s weird.”

  “No more weird than calling someone sugar pie or honey bunch… I mean really, pet names are pretty ridiculous if you think about them.”

  Leaning forward on his elbows, he scrunches his nose. “Anyone ever told you how adorable you look when you get all feisty?”

  “Oh, shut up.” I stick my tongue out.

  “Mmm, Lili,” he moans, low and for my ears only. “So many places I want that tongue right now.”

  Heat burns my belly and I can’t help the breathy sigh that escapes me. I really, really wish we were closer to home.

  Laughing, very aware of what his dirty words do to my equilibrium, he leans back. “More skating?”

  I groan, massaging my stiff ankles. I haven’t ice-skated in years. At this point, I’m done, plus I want to put my tongue to good use. I want to take that man, throw him on the bed, and do things to him that’d make a porn star blush.