All I Want

by J. Daniels

  “Hey.”

  That little word is the only thing I allow him to say before I open my mouth.

  “You asshole! You can’t send me texts like that. It’s too late! You’re too fucking late, Luke.” My hands shove against his broad chest, hard enough my elbows strain not to bend. He could fight against me easily if he wanted to, but the only resistance I meet is the wall behind him that’s unwilling to give.

  I ignore the way my hands mold to his body. How my fingers reflexively seek anchor in the defined ridges of his muscles. It’s my body’s natural response to his. To grab a hold of any part of him I can.

  I take in a constricted breath, my lungs burning as the air fills them. “You’re desperate for me? You need me? Where the hell was all this when I needed to hear it? Huh? When I begged you…”A sob breaks apart my voice, followed by more tears.

  I push and push, wanting some sort of fight from him. Words, a hand holding me back, something—anything. I don’t want this to be easy. We have never been easy. I need a reaction from him and at this point, I don’t care what all I tell him.

  How can this hurt any more than it already does?

  “How did I fall in love with you?” I blink, sending the tears down my face. His lips part as a rushed breath escapes him, and for the first time since I pushed him up against this wall, he leans into me, causing my elbows to collapse under the pressure. I keep the distance between us with one hand flat against his chest, and he waits for more, studying my mouth as if he’ll be able to read the words I’m about to say.

  “I wanted so much more than you ever gave me. I cried over you, every time you kept me out, but I still loved you. When you broke my heart… again and again, I loved you. A year ago… and yesterday, I loved you.”

  “Do you love me today?” he asks, and I suddenly realize how close we are now. I don’t know when his hand formed to my hip, or his other to my cheek, but I’m too shattered to protest it.

  I close my eyes with a heavy swallow. “In any universe, any version of you I could get, I would find you, and I would love you.” He moves in, his lips sealing against mine with the gentlest of kisses. “But I can’t love you today.”

  At the feel of him leaning back, my eyes flash open, meeting the wounded look in his.

  “Tessa.”

  “No.” His hands drop away as I slide out of his grip. “I won’t, Luke. Not today.”

  I leave him standing in the hallway, forcing my feet to move to get me out of there. I can’t see him like that, exactly how I’ve always felt when he’s pulled away from me—heartbroken and destroyed. It’s his turn to feel it now. Not just me.

  The bar noise hits me as the room opens up, and I spot Mason bending over to take his shot at the pool table. Mia frowns as I step up to join the group, and I give her a weak smile, hoping to hide my misery.

  “Hey, everything all right?” Mason asks, leaning his pool cue against the table. He looks over my shoulder, and I watch his eyes move with someone, following them.

  I look to my right and catch the back of Luke as he exits the bar.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” Mason’s voice brings my attention back to him, and I tilt my head up, expecting to see the look that’s normally paired with that line. I’ve heard variations of it, hell, I’ve used it myself, but I don’t get that shameless lust that’s usually burning behind the eyes of the person who’s delivered it. Mason only looks at me with kindness, the way a concerned friend comforts you when you’re too far gone to ask for help.

  I know the smile I give him in response isn’t much, but he takes it as if it is. He spins around, his hand reaching for something on the pool table. Seconds later, my clutch is being held out in front of me.

  “I put your phone in there,” he says, handing it over in the most casual way, as if being incredibly thoughtful is a trait every man carries.

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  “Are you two leaving? I was going to get another round of shots,” Reed says from the other side of the pool table. A leggy brunette rubs her hand along the front of his polo shirt, teasing the two buttons at the collar.

  “You seem good,” I shoot back at him, and he lifts his nose out of the girl’s hair and winks at me. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mia places her hand on my arm and frowns. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, not right now. I’ll call you later.”

  She kisses my cheek and waves at Mason. Ben says his goodbyes, shaking Mason’s hand and wrapping his arms around me.

  “Do I need to beat his ass?” he asks quietly into my hair.

  I shake my head, snaking my arms around his back and squeezing him tighter. I love hugging my brother, the way I disappear the second his arms envelope me. He’s slightly taller than Luke, but has the same build, and I swear his arms could rip a tree right out of the ground without any effort.

  “He cares about you. He may never say it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  “What if Mia never told you she loved you?” I ask, letting my arms drop to my side as he releases me.

  He looks pained at the very thought of what I’ve just said. With a quick shrug, he drops his eyes to Mia as she joins his side. “I’d probably still be waiting for it.”

  “Waiting for what?” she asks, leaning against his arm.

  Ben kisses the top of her head. “Nothing, angel.”

  Mason and I say our final goodbyes to the group before I let him lead me out of the bar. I feel drained, emotionally shattered. I don’t know why they call it heartbreak when every bone in your body seems affected. The pain isn’t stagnant in the center of my chest. It radiates out, then back in, pulsing at an unforgiving rhythm. I feel like I’m barely moving of my own accord, but I make it to the passenger side of Mason’s Denali without too much difficulty.

  “I thought we would just go for a drive,” he says, opening my door for me. “I like to do that when I’m having a hard time with things. It helps me think.”

  “I’ve done enough thinking,” I reply, strapping the seatbelt across my lap. My curt response has me pinching my eyes shut.

  Asshole, Tessa. You’re an asshole.

  Mason doesn’t have to do anything for me. He could just take me home and end what has to be the worst date of his life. I turn my head, nodding at his suggestion with a small grin. “I like going for rides.”

  His smile is immediate, lighting up his entire face. “Me too, and my sisters tell me I’m like a chick when it comes to listening to someone else’s problems, so feel free to talk my ear off.”

  I laugh as he shuts my door, and ask my question as soon as he opens his. “How many sisters do you have?”

  “Seven,” he answers, strapping on his seatbelt and pulling out onto the road.

  “Seven? Holy shit. Do you have any brothers?”

  He shakes his head, giving me a quick glance. “No, just me, and I’m the youngest, so they used to use me as their own personal doll to dress up. The pictures are mortifying.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand, muffling my laugh. “Aww, you poor thing. Did they put you in dresses?”

  “Yep.”

  “Makeup?”

  “Yep.”

  I let my head flop back against the seat with my chuckle. “Is that why you left Australia? To reclaim your manhood?”

  He keeps one hand on the wheel, resting his other in his lap. Leaning forward, he checks for traffic through my window, then his, before pulling onto a back road.

  His fingers scratch along his chin before he speaks. “Following a woman to another country who didn’t ask me to move with her sounds like the opposite, if you ask me.”

  “Was she your girlfriend?”

  “I always saw her as that. She didn’t, which I tried to be okay with. But that’s not me. I get attached really easily, and I’m upfront about it. I don’t hide my feelings or play stupid games. I’m almost thirty years old. I want something that’s real.” He
looks over at me. “Not many blokes are like that, I guess.”

  “Not a lot that I’ve met.”

  He fixates his gaze on the dark road in front of us. “I realized how pathetic I looked after I uprooted my life, but I didn’t want to go back home. I needed something new. So I left her in Texas and drove until I didn’t feel like driving anymore.”

  I cross one leg over the other, angling my body toward him. “She sounds like a C-word. If some guy followed me thousands of miles away, I’d probably ask him to marry me.”

  The car comes to a stop at a red light, and he looks over at me, confusion creasing his brow. “C-word?”

  “Cunt.”

  His eyes go wide, and I can tell I’ve just embarrassed him a bit. “Wow.”

  I give an apologetic shrug while my fingers begin nervously twisting the ends of my hair. “Sorry. My mouth doesn’t have much of a filter.”

  “No need to apologize. I like your mouth.”

  I glance over at him, forcing down an uncomfortable swallow. “Mason, I don’t think I’m…”

  “I know you’re not ready, Tessa,” he interrupts with a kind smile. “I think I knew something was up when I asked for your number. You went from flirting with me pretty hard to being almost uncomfortable.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I still had a good time tonight.”

  I drop my hand into my lap, letting my eyes focus on the dashboard. “He said things to me tonight I’ve been waiting to hear from him, and I told him it was too late.” I reach up and wipe the tear off my cheek as a small whimper slips past my lips. “Do you think he believed me?”

  Mason squeezes my hand. “I don’t know. Did you look like this when you said it?” I shake my head before dropping it into my hands. His arms pull me against his side, and he rubs my back gently. “Shh,” he says into my hair as I cry against him. “It’ll be okay.”

  I don’t know how long we sit there for, but Mason never rushes me. He never once pulls me away from him, not even to check the state of his shirt, which I’m rubbing my face against. When I’ve finally calmed myself down, he hands me a wad of napkins he keeps in the glove compartment and smiles at me, like I’ve given him one of the best dates he’s ever had.

  This guy will seriously ruin a very lucky girl.

  I climb the stairs leading up to my apartment, gripping my clutch with one hand while my other slides along the railing. When I reach the top, my heart slams against my ribs at the sight of Luke, sitting with his back against my door, knees bent and his head hanging low between his shoulders. I stand motionless, but he senses me and lifts his eyes to meet mine.

  We both move at the same time, me slowly inching forward toward my door, and him pushing off the ground and straightening up. He tucks his hands into his pockets, looking unsure of himself, as I come up beside him.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask, pulling my keys out of my clutch. My nervous fingers drop them, and I curse as I bend over, picking them off the ground.

  “I came straight here from the bar. I didn’t think you’d be that long.” His voice comes from close behind me as I try and steady my hand enough to shove the key into the top lock. It’s not working, and I nearly drop them again. I let out a rushed breath when he reaches around me, covering my hand with his, and unlocks the door.

  “Please let me in,” he says into my hair, sending a chill down my back. His hand moves, twisting both of ours together, continuing the motion with the rest of the locks until the last one is unlatched.

  I stare at the door, not pushing it open yet, while his hand remains on mine, holding the key in the bottom lock.

  “Please. I’m not here for…” He pauses, moving closer until his lips press against my ear. I close my eyes. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, Tessa. Just let me be here. Please.”

  I turn my head, prompting him to lean back so he can look at me. “If I say no, are you going to leave?”

  “Probably not.” His eyes soften, and I watch his neck roll with a hard swallow as he stares at my mouth, waiting for the words he needs to hear.

  I make a decision, one that I might regret tomorrow, but it’s done. I push open the door and walk inside.

  Turn it. Please, let me in.

  Her eyes are reddened, heavy with uncertainty. She blinks slowly as she contemplates this decision, and I want to rush her, to decide for her, but I don’t. I won’t force myself inside if she doesn’t want me, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving.

  Her lips part, and with a soft exhale her wrist finally turns, opening the door.

  I wait, not wanting to push my way in if she doesn’t want this. My fingers curl around the wood of the doorframe as I keep my body braced, ready to enter. She looks back at me after taking a few steps inside, raising her eyebrows expectantly, and that’s all I need.

  I shut the door behind me, clicking the locks in place as I try and keep the blinding relief coursing through me hidden.

  But, fuck, I want to kiss her just for looking back at me.

  Waiting outside her door, not knowing what she was doing with that guy has left my nerves fused together, coiled in a tight bundle in the center of my chest. I’ve heard of panic attacks, and I damn near had one, thinking she wasn’t going to come home.

  I would’ve waited. She could’ve been out all night, and I would’ve fucking waited.

  Seeing her like that at the bar messed my shit up. I never needed Tessa to admit her feelings to me. What we had, what she gave me was always enough, but hearing her say it, that she’s loved me all this time, that… fuck, I don’t know how I ever lived without hearing it.

  Tessa watches me over her shoulder as the fifth lock is latched, then drops her purse and keys on the kitchen table.

  “I’m going to get changed, if you want to watch TV or something.” She avoids my eyes, but gestures in the direction of the couch before walking toward the hallway leading to the bedroom.

  Fuck watching TV. The only thing I want to watch is her. Tessa can do whatever the hell she wants tonight, but my eyes will be on her the second she comes back out here.

  I need a distraction to keep myself from walking to her bedroom, so I open the refrigerator, leaning down to peer inside. I grab the packet of cookie dough squares off the top shelf and tear across the top, breaking the seal. As I pop one of the squares into my mouth, I notice the tea-kettle on the back burner. Tessa loves drinking that green herbal shit at night. She used to try and get me to drink some when she said I needed to relax. I never did. It looks awful, and it smells worse, but she likes it.

  I fill the kettle with warm water and turn the burner on high. The low whistle begins to sound as I’m chewing up my third cookie dough square. Setting the pack down, I turn off the burner and pour the water over the tea bag, filling the cup. The aroma seeps out from the top and hits me in the face.

  I lean away, setting the kettle down. “Fuck. How do you drink this?”

  “How do I drink what?”

  I look over my shoulder to see Tessa standing on the other side of the small island attached to the kitchen counter. Her face is flushed, stripped of all makeup like I prefer. Her hair is pulled up out of her face into one of those messy knots she always does, and she’s wearing my T-shirt from the other day.

  I set the cup down on the island in front of her, placing the bottle of honey from the cabinet next to it. “Here. I wasn’t sure how much you usually put in there. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

  She steps forward with caution, rising a few inches on her toes to peer down into the mug. A strand of her hair falls into her face, and I make a fist to keep myself from guiding it back behind her ear. Her head stays turned down, then her lips part before her eyes slowly lift to mine. “You made me tea?”

  I slide a spoon across the island. “Yeah. I know how much you like it.”

  It takes her several seconds to blink, maybe a full minute, but when she does, she focuses back on her cup. “Tha
nk you,” she says quietly, popping the lid off the honey and drizzling some into the mug. She looks up at me when she hears the cookie dough package opening with the force of my hand.

  I freeze, leaning my back against the counter with my fingers ready to pull out another square. I don’t know what makes me say it. I never talk about this, even when it’s heavy on my mind. Maybe it’s the confession Tessa gave me earlier that has me needing to give her some part of me, but whatever it is, the words come out of my mouth before I can think to swallow them down.

  “My mom used to buy these all the time when I was a kid. She never baked them. She just kept them in the fridge for a snack.” I look down at the package in my hand, turning it over to look at the cooking instructions. “I’ve never actually had baked chocolate chip cookies before.” After examining the information I’ve never bothered to look at, I glance up and meet Tessa’s wide-eyed stare.

  She blinks several times, focuses on her mug, and then lifts her head again. “I want to ask you about her, but if you don’t want me to, what you’ve just said is okay.”

  “You can ask me,” I quickly reply, the words rushing out of my mouth as if they can’t escape fast enough.

  She nods, lifting her mug and blowing across the top. “How did she die?” Her eyes fall to a space between us immediately after her question.

  I seal the top of the package and slip it back into the fridge. My hand flattens against the side of my face, sliding down roughly, as I take a minute before I respond.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. She looks regretful as she sets her mug down.

  I step closer to the counter separating us. “It’s all right. I told you, you could ask me. I’m just not used to talking about it.” My shoulders sag as I tuck my hands into my pockets, needing somewhere to put them. “She was driving into town to go to some store or something, and while she was at a red light, this guy came up to her window and asked for some money.” I look down, picturing how I’ve always imagined it in my head. “Once she rolled her window down, he pulled a gun on her and told her to get out of the car. I think she would’ve listened to him if he would’ve waited two fucking seconds, but he didn’t. When the cops pulled him over in the next county, he told them he’d shot her as soon as she’d looked at the gun.”