by Bromberg, K.
“But why, Colton? Why is this all that you’ll allow yourself when you deserve so much more?” The look in his eyes tells me that the honesty behind my words affects him.
He puts his head in his hands, his shoulders moving as he sighs. He looks back up at me, a myriad of emotions on his face. “I hate the drama of it, Rylee. The points system of who is contributing how much, the jealousy over my lifestyle and the media surrounding it, the expectation of the next step to take. So many things.” He pauses, eyeing me, his tone indifferent. “Relationships are just way too much shit to handle in my crazy life.”
I stare into the depths of his eyes and can see right through the bullshit lies he’s just tried to feed me. There is something more here. Why is he afraid to get too close to somebody? What happened to get him to this point? “That’s a bullshit answer and you know it.” He flinches. “I expected more from you.”
“Rylee, I’m not one of your troubled kids that needs fixing. I’ve been fucked up for way too long to be fixed now, so don’t get that look in your eye that you know different. Some of the best shrinks in L.A. couldn’t do it, so I doubt you’d be able to.”
His words sting. The hurt from them sits heavy on my chest as he just sits staring at me. I can see him emotionally pulling away. The cold, detached look on his face tells me he is shutting down. Shutting me out when I’m still fighting for him. But for what?
I rise from the couch, pacing the living room as I try to process everything. The more I think, the angrier I get. “Tell me something, Colton?” I whirl back around. I’m a mix of random emotion. I want to go, to have him leave me alone, and yet I can’t stop staring at the train wreck in front of me. Can’t stop the part of me that wants to help him. “Is this what I am to you? Is this the type of relationship—and I use that term loosely—that you were hoping for between you and me?” I ask him, my voice wavering.
“Rylee, that’s not what I—” He shakes his head, running both hands over his face, his emotional struggle being played out before my eyes. “At first, yes,” he says, “but after this past week—after tonight—I’m just not sure anymore.”
“What? Now I’m not good enough for you?” What the hell am I doing? One minute I’m mad that he thinks of me as a mutual agreement and the next I’m pissed that now he doesn’t. Get your head straight, Rylee!
“Christ, Rylee!” he hisses as he stands abruptly, shoving a hand through his hair and stalking toward me. He reaches out to touch me, but thinks better of it when I shrug my shoulder back. “I don’t know what I want.” The muscle in his jaw twitches, and I can see the strain in his neck. He clenches and unclenches his fists, closing his eyes and sighing deeply before opening them up to meet my gaze again. I catch a fleeting glimpse of fear and then resolve before he reins it in. “But whatever this is, I know I want it with you, Rylee.”
I have to control the rush of feelings that flood through me from his words. He wants it with me. What with me, though? He is so close that I want to reach out and touch him. Calm that fear that I see in his eyes. But I know if I touch him, skin to skin, I will acquiesce to his ridiculous demands. And I know deep down, as much as I want him, I don’t think I can be what he wants me to be.
“My way? My arrangement as you call it…” he shakes his head “...is all I know how to do, Rylee. Is all I know how to be.” He reaches out to grab my hand, and I have to steel myself to not react to his touch. “It’s all I can give you right now.” The solemnity in his voice touches me deep down and twists in my heart.
I turn from him and walk the length of the room, grabbing his beer without thinking and taking a long swallow. I hate the flavor of beer but I don’t even taste it. I’m tired. I’m hurt. And I can’t fight the tears anymore. My eyes pool and a single tear falls over and runs down my cheek. My back is to him so I can’t see the look on his face when I say, “I don’t know if I can do this, Colton.” I shake my head, sighing deeply.
“Rylee, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” I sputter. “No, ridiculous is me thinking for a second that I could do this, Colton.” I shrug my shoulders in sadness and resignation. “I walked into this—whatever we have here—telling myself that all you want is a quick fuck from me.” I turn back to him as I speak and see him wince at my words. “Maybe a little fling … and I thought I could give that to you. Take that from you. But now that you’re actually offering it to me, I don’t think I can.” Another wayward tear falls, and I see him watch it before bringing his eyes back up to mine.
“What do you mean, Rylee?” His mask slips momentarily, and I see vulnerability and panic flutter over his face. “Why not?”
A small part of me relishes the idea that my threat can make him panic but staying is not going to fix things. I press my fingers to my eyes. I’m sure I look like hell right now: hair frizzed, eyeliner smudged, lipstick gone, but I really don’t care. My insides are ten times more devastated than what my outside looks like. “When I tell myself that this is all I am to you—sex without feelings or the possibility of a future—it’s one thing.”
Without thinking I give into my addiction. I can’t resist. I reach out and brush my fingers over his cheek. He starts to turn his cheek into my hand and catches himself before he does. I let my hand fall at his subtle rejection. “But when I hear the words from your lips. When I hear you tell me your rules and regulations, it’s a whole different thing.” I close my eyes momentarily, trying to stop the small tremor in my voice. “I will not be inconsequential, Colton. To you or anyone else.”
Colton runs a hand through his hair and scrubs his hands over his eyes. “That’s not what you are to me, Rylee,” he breathes, raising his eyes to me.
I stare at him. I want to believe him. I really do. But I can’t sell myself short. I deserve more than this. I want more than what he’s offering. “That may be true, Colton, but that admission, it’s not enough for me.” It breaks my heart to say these words to him.
“Rylee, just try it,” he urges. “Try it my way.”
“Oh save it, Colton!” I bite at him, throwing my hands up in the air. “I’m not one of your little floozies who’s going to do whatever you say just because you say to. I’m sure you have those lining up waiting to be your plaything. Catch one of them and toss her back when you’re tired of her. Not me, Ace. I don’t work that way.” My anger has resurfaced, despite my exhaustion and aching heart.
Colton just stares at me. We stand within a foot of each other, eyes locked, and yet I feel so far away from him. It’s hard to believe it’s been less than an hour since we were intimate.
“Rylee,” he pleas.
“What, Colton?” I snap, immediately wincing from my tone.
“That first night …” he begins softly and then stops turning from me and walking toward the kitchen.
“What about it, Colton?” I follow him partway, leaning against the back of his couch. “I should have seen it then. You sleeping with me and then humiliating me by jumping out of bed like I’d burned you.”
“You did, Rylee.”
“What? What in the hell are you talking about?”
“That first night,” he continues, ignoring my comment. “After the second time,” he says, blowing out a loud breath. He continues to look at his bare feet, his hips resting against the counter, hands shoved in his pockets and discomfort rolling off him in waves. “I kissed you and asked you if you were all right.” I nod my head acknowledging him, remembering the raw honesty in that simple moment between us. “I swear to God, Rylee … I felt like you saw me. Really saw me.” He raises his eyes to meet mine and they’re swimming with emotion. “And you were sitting there, your dark hair falling all around you with that white sheet pooled around your waist...” he shakes his head before continuing “...your lips were swollen, your eyes were so wide and trusting … and I realized in that second that it meant more to me.” His voice is hoarse with emotion. “That you meant more to me, Rylee, than anything I can remember. Ever.”
>
I stare at him, so many things running through my head, but more than anything, his words resonate in every dark part of me that craves to be wanted, needed, and desired. At least I know why he reacted how he did. Why he showed up this morning. Hope starts to soar in me. Maybe I can do this. Maybe with time, I can prove to him that there can be more. I wring my hands to try and stifle my sudden enthusiasm.
“You scared the shit out of me, Rylee. You burned me.” He runs his hand through his hair, his eyes darkening, “And then I realized, as I do right now, that in the end I’m going to break you apart.”
“What?” I snap my head up to meet his eyes, my hopes crashing down around me. Did I just hear him correctly?
“I can’t do that to you, Rylee.” I see his fists clench as he fights his emotions. “I tried to warn you, but I’m so frickin’ drawn to you. I just can’t stay away.”
I feel schizophrenic trying to keep up with his moods. “You tell me you can’t do this, that you’ll destroy me, but then you tell me you can’t stay away even though you are the one warning me. You push me away then show up at my doorstep and give me tonight.” I walk toward him in the kitchen until I stand in front of him. “Which way is up, Colton?”
Without a word, he grabs me and pulls me against his chest, wraps his arms tightly around me, and buries his nose in my hair. I press my hands against his back and absorb his warmth, surprised by his unexpected show of emotion. His need for me is palpable. It oozes off of him and wraps its way into my soul. It takes everything I have to not tell him yes. Tell him I’ll do anything just to have a piece of him. That is how much he means to me. But my thoughts are louder than my heart. I wish that I could just quiet my head and sink into the reassuring feeling of his arms. Block out everything else.
“I’m going to hurt you, Rylee. And you already mean too much to me to do that to you.” I stiffen at his words. But despite them, he holds me tighter. I try to push away from him but his arms will not release me. I relent eventually and lay my face against his chest, inhale the smell of us mingled together, feel the coarseness of the hair on his chest, and hear the strong, steady beat of his heart. “It’s a first for me to care enough about someone to stop. But knowing it ahead of time isn’t going to stop me from doing it. And I just can’t do that to you, Rylee.” His chest heaves a long breath. “And that’s why I can’t do this anymore with you. Why we can’t …”
“But why, Colton? Why can’t you? Why can’t we?” I’m panicked now. Now that I want him, he’s telling me no. Or maybe that’s exactly why. I’m grasping at straws now.
“Look, let’s not get this confused here. I’m not and never have been the boy you bring home to mom, Ry. I’m the one you throw in her face to piss her off and show her you are asserting your independence. Let’s not make me out to be better than I am.”
I’m still not buying it. Why does he think so horribly of himself? He can repeat this crappy answer ad nauseam and I still won’t believe it. “Who did this to you?”
We’re quiet for a few moments as he mulls over my questions. Eventually he sighs. “I told you, Rylee, I’ve got a 747 of baggage.”
I push against his chest. I need to see his eyes. Need to look into them. When I do, I can see he’s hurting too. But he’s also shutting down. Putting me at arm’s distance emotionally so that it prevents further hurt in him. But what about me? I want to scream at him. What about my hurt? Why does this have to be so complicated? Why can’t I just let it be and enjoy the ride? Hope that he’ll see the real me and fall in love? Because I know that if he doesn’t face whatever trauma has made him this way, he’ll never get over it. He’ll never be able to have a normal relationship. He’s right. His 747 of baggage is going to ruin whatever chance we may have. “I’m not buying it, Colton.”
With my words, he removes his hands from my arms, now physically distancing himself from me. “I can’t give you any more, Rylee.” He looks down and then looks back up, the mask effectively in place. “This is who I am.”
Tears pool in my eyes, my voice a whisper. “And this is who I am, Colton.” When I speak those words I know. I have already started to fall for him. Warts and all. Somehow, someway, despite the short amount of time I’ve spent with him, he has penetrated that protective wall around my heart, and I’ve started the slow descent toward love. And that’s why I know I can’t do this. I can’t walk knowingly into heartbreak. I’ve been devastated once. I don’t think I can survive that again. And I know without a doubt that loving Colton and not getting love in return would devastate me.
“I guess we’re at an impasse.” His voice is gruff and he stuffs his hands in his pockets. The weight of his hands causes his jeans to hang lower on his hips. I have to physically stop myself from looking at the sexy inverted triangle of muscles that peeks over his waistband. I don’t need a reminder of what is no longer mine.
“Then I guess it’s time for you to take me home.” I avert my eyes, unable to meet his as I choke the words out.
“Rylee …” he says.
“I deserve more than this, Colton,” I whisper, raising my eyes to meet his, “and so do you.”
I can see his hands grip the kitchen counter as he digests my words, his knuckles white, and his face twisted in anguish. “Please, Rylee. Stay the night.”
I hear the desperation in his voice, know that he really means it, but I know he is asking for the wrong reasons. He is asking to ease the hurt he knows he is causing me, not because he wants to make this more than the arrangement he desires.
“We both know that’s not how this story goes.” A tear slides down my cheek. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you want me to be. Please take me home, Colton.”
The ride home is silent. Adele’s velvety voice sings softly on the radio about never finding someone like you, and deep down I feel the same way. It would be hard to compare anyone to Colton. I glance at him occasionally, watching the shadows and lights of the night play over the angles of his face. I know I am doing the right thing, self-preservation at its best, but my heart still aches at the thought of walking away from this mesmerizing man.
We arrive at my house with fewer than ten words spoken between us. Oddly, I’m still comfortable with Colton’s presence despite my inner-turmoil.
He opens my door and escorts me out with a sad half-smile on his lips. He places his hand on my lower back as we walk up the walkway. At the front door, lit by a lone porch light, I turn to him. We both say each other’s names at the same time and then smile softly at each other. The smiles never reach our eyes though. They reflect a weary sadness.
“You first,” I tell him.
He sighs and just stares at me. I want so much for him to be able to express to me the emotions I can see swimming in his eyes, but I know that he’ll never get the chance to tell me. He reaches out and brushes his knuckles over my cheek with the back of his hand. I close my eyes at the sensation. When he stops, I open them back up, tears pooling in them, to meet his. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I know that his apology is for so many things. For what can never be. For what should be. For hurting me. For not being the person I need him to be. For not being able to confront whatever is in his past.
“I know.” I reach up and run my fingers over his unshaven jaw and up through his wavy hair before returning back to his face. It’s almost as if I am committing his lines and his features to memory. Something I can hold on to. For despite still having to work with him, I know that this will be the last time I’ll allow myself to touch him. Touching him will be too dangerous for my weakened heart.
I step up on my tiptoes and brush my lips gently against his. Within moments, Colton has his arms around me and is lifting me up to his level. Our eyes lock on each other. He leans into me to resume our kiss. I feel something different in it. I realize that we are saying an unspoken goodbye. All of the hurt and unspoken possibilities are thrown into the unyielding softness of our exchange. The desperation and carnal need of earlier has been
replaced with a poignant resignation. We slowly end the kiss, Colton gently lowers me, my body sliding down the familiar length of his. Once my feet are on the ground, he rests his forehead against mine. Our eyes remain closed as we take in this last moment with each other.
I move my hand between our bodies and place it over his heart, our foreheads still touching. “I wish you’d explain to me why you don’t do relationships, Colton.” My voice is barely a whisper, the threat of tears evident. “Maybe I could understand you—this—better then.”
“I know,” he breathes in response. He shifts and places his trademark kiss on the tip of my nose.
This action is my undoing. Tears silently coarse down my cheeks as Colton whispers, “Goodbye,” before turning without looking back at me and hurrying down the pathway.
I can’t bear to watch him leave. I fumble clumsily with the lock before shoving the door open and slamming it shut. I lean against the door and slide down it to sit on the floor, my silent tears turning into uncontrollable sobs.
This is how Haddie finds me moments later after being woken by my less-than-graceful entrance.
THE WEEK HAS SUCKED. MY applicants for the new staff position at The House have been horrible. Unqualified. Underwhelming. Unexciting.
It might not help that my mind is not all here. I’m tired because sleep comes in short bouts interrupted by confusing nightmares of Colton and Max. My subconscious is obviously having a field day with my emotions.
I’m cranky because I’m eating everything in sight, and yet I have no desire to go run and work off all of the excess calories that I’m stuffing in my mouth to abate my misery.
I’m irritable because Haddie is watching me like a hawk, calling me every hour to check up on me, and turning off Matchbox Twenty anytime she catches me listening to it.
I’m petulant because Teddy just forwarded me an email from Tawny listing all of the events that CD Enterprises is requesting my presence at to promote our new partnership. And that means that I will have to stand side by side with Colton, the sole cause of my miserable state. Because despite the four days that have passed, nothing has helped to ease the ache radiating through my heart and soul from my last moments with Colton. I want to tell myself to get a grip, that we only knew each other a short time, but nothing works.