Yours Completely

by Joya Ryan

Aunt Bea was brassy, and I could see where she and Cal were similar. She was kind and sweet, but didn’t pause at telling you what she thought. I thought about the place Cal took me to on Halloween. The fire he almost didn’t make it out of. Poor Bea must have been worried. In Cal’s line of work, I couldn’t imagine that was his only brush with death or injury.

  “I tried to get him to be one of those nice gentlemen that go around town in those little cars and makes sure all the fire zones are clear,” Bea continued.

  “That’s parking patrol,” Cal said with a sigh, like he’d heard this a million times before.

  “It’s safe, and you still work with fire of sorts.”

  “That’s not the same thing at all.” But instead of arguing further, he stood, and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll let you two finish up here. I’m going to turn on the game in the living room.” With a glance at me, Cal walked into the other room and out of sight.

  Bea sighed. “He’s such a good boy. Stubborn. I worry, and I know it bothers him.”

  “I don’t think it bothers him,” I said. “I can tell why Cal is so protective of the people he cares about. He gets that from you.”

  She smiled, and I felt like maybe I’d helped. It was a nice feeling. Probably even nicer to have someone support and care about you so much that they worried for your wellbeing. Cal was lucky to have this woman in his life. Which made me think of something she’d mentioned earlier.

  “You’d said that you got Cal twenty-five years ago?”

  She glanced down, and something very painful lit her face. “Yes. When his mother died, my sister, I got custody.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you, honey. It was hard. I know I fuss over him more than I should, but I just…” she glanced at where Cal had just been. “There’s a part of him that’s shut down, even as a child, and I’ve never been able to reach it.”

  My heart ached for them both. I wanted to tell her not to worry so much. That Cal was wonderful. Casual and funny and didn’t seem like anything really affected him.

  Maybe that was what she was talking about, though. Not much seemed to rock Cal’s casual demeanor. Yet, this morning was the most tense I’d ever seen him.

  “Came in for a cookie,” Cal said, walking back into the kitchen. He stopped to look at me, then Bea, obviously sensing the conversation had changed. “You done?”

  I nodded. “I think I have everything I need.” I powered down and packed up. Bea stood and hugged me tight. Though we’d just met, her hugs were like candy. I wanted just a few more because they left a sense of happiness behind. “Thank you so much.”

  “Anytime, honey,” she said. “Wait!” Her voice screeched with so much power it made me physically halt. “You never said if you like cranberry sauce?”

  “Oh.” Right, that question. I had avoided it because, in all honesty, the one time I remember even being near cranberry sauce was back when my parents were together. My mother had opened the can and laid it on the plate and started cutting slices. But I never tried it. I must have been really young, because it was the only memory I could pull up of both my parents in the same room.

  “I can’t remember ever having it,” I finally admitted.

  Bea looked like I’d just uttered an unholy prayer to the devil himself.

  “Well, that is going to have to change,” she said with determination.

  “My aunt’s cranberry sauce is the best in the state,” Cal whispered.

  “Best in a couple states,” she mumbled. “But please come back. Whether he brings you or not. You’re always welcome.”

  “Thank you, that’s really nice.” And something I wish I could take her up on, because based on my earlier plan of attempting to keep it casual with Cal, the warmth I felt from him, and now his aunt, were filling my chest with an emotion I hadn’t felt for a while.

  Longing.

  To be a part of a family. A real family that loved and supported one another.

  They aren’t my family, I reminded myself quickly. I was coveting something that wasn’t mine to covet. But, if I were honest, I wanted this moment to last just a bit longer. To feel like these walls somehow shielded me from the outside and all the mess that came with it.

  “Love you,” Cal said to his aunt and hugged her goodbye.

  A muffled, “Love you too, kiddo,” came from her, and it made my eyes water a little. What it must be like to have someone care so deeply for you. A parent. She may not have given birth to Cal, but she loved him unconditionally, that much was so obvious it was almost a foreign concept. Because the only experiences I’d had seemed to always come with conditions.

  Cal picked up my bag, carrying it for me, and with a hand on the small of my back, led me out the front door and to his truck. Every move had thought and grace in it. Like a protector. As if this was the way he was meant to move.

  Once we were on the road, heading back toward my place, I turned in my seat and faced him.

  “Thank you so much. Your aunt is really wonderful.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “So, she really wanted you to be on parking patrol, huh?”

  “When I told her I wanted to go into training for the fire squad, she countered with that. It never stuck.”

  “I can’t see you fitting into one of those little cars anyway.”

  “Yeah, that was the deal breaker.”

  “She obviously cares, though.”

  “I know. But she also knows that I need a certain level of…”

  “Adrenaline?” I finished for him.

  He looked at me. “Something like that.” His eyes were back on the road. There was more to Cal, more to this conversation and his needs than I was aware of. But, clearly, I wasn’t going to get more details. Because now wasn’t the time, and that kind of connection was something that I was trying to avoid…right?

  My mind seemed to have other ideas, and wanted to know more, though.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your mom—”

  “Did you always want to go into finance?” he asked, cutting me off. I paused, but went with his new direction. A different kind of tension was radiating from him. Riding in his truck, talking about his deceased mother probably wasn’t high on the list of things he wanted to do. Especially since I didn’t think I was high on his list of people he was overly happy with at the moment.

  “Kind of. I like having a plan, organization, numbers and strategy, and—”

  “Control?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  He nodded. “Well, you’re very good at what you do.”

  “How could you possibly know?” I didn’t mean for that to sound bitchy. I was legitimately curious because I didn’t even know if I was good at it.

  He didn’t miss a beat, though. That blue gaze landed on me. “Because of the way you think.”

  “What way is that?”

  He was back to looking out the window, but smiled. “With logic and passion.”

  I swallowed hard. His words clicking into place and hitting what I was as a person, down to my soul. Logic and passion—always at odds. Never a balance. Always one overtaking the other. For a long time, it was logic. Trying to deal with Brock, what he’d done to me and the past. I’d find excuses and logic in my life to explain away details. I needed that to function.

  Then, Jack and Cal came along and, suddenly, passion won out. Kissing Jack, then Cal the next week? Both instances were lapses in judgment and operated purely on emotion.

  Which was why I was in the mess I was in now.

  “I don’t know if that does me any favors,” I admitted.

  “I think it does. It means that you can be cautious, yet still take a risk when needed. Which is good, since you want to deal with people’s money.”

  Right. That. That was what we were talking about. Though the look in his eyes made me think there was way more in the undertone of this conversation than just my critical thinking skills in the workplace.

  “Ca
utious and risky can be exhausting,” I said lowly.

  “I’m sure it is, Kitten.” My ears perked a little when he called me that. Usually, it came out at least once in our conversations, and it hadn’t today until just now. “Which is why I choose just risky.”

  “No kidding.” He was the poster boy for testosterone and adrenaline-chasing alpha awesomeness. “Did you always want to be a firefighter?”

  “No, I wanted to be a super hero until I was eighteen.”

  I laughed, so did he. It was nice chatting like this. At least we were getting out of the lull that started the day. We pulled up to my house, and he faced me.

  “When is the next meeting with your advisor?” he asked.

  “I meet with her every Monday. So, I have a few days to rewrite my draft. Your aunt really helped.”

  “Good to hear,” he said. “I’m interested in hearing how it goes.”

  “Okay. Maybe I can give you a call or something Monday and catch up?”

  “You know where to find me.”

  And there it was. The reminder of how we left things, rather, how I’d walked out on things a few nights ago. He’d told me his stance, and watched me leave. He gave me the control to seek him out instead of the other way around.

  “Thank you again,” I said, and climbed out of his truck. With my bag and a long weekend of work ahead of me, I wondered if it would be enough to get Cal out of my mind.

  Chapter 5

  Standing on the other side of Erica’s desk, I watched my advisor flip through my revised thesis proposal. It had taken me all weekend, but implementing Bea’s business as the model filled out the project.

  Erica scanned another page, reading quietly.

  I started biting my thumbnail.

  Finally, she tugged her glasses off. “This is great. Exactly what I was thinking, and the way you tied your project with a real business will really impress the board.”

  “Really!”

  “Yes. I think I’m ready to sign off on it.”

  I wanted to hug her. Instead, I tried not to jump up and down. “Thank you so much.”

  She seemed to read my body language because she stood up and hugged me. “Really, well done. Just give me a couple days to really read it over, and then we’ll take it to the board.”

  “Okay, great.”

  I tugged my bag onto my shoulder and she leaned against her desk. “So, before you go, how’s life going?”

  “Life is going pretty well,” I said. But what was awesome was that I meant it.

  “That’s great. Did you get that waiter’s number? Because you seem happier.”

  “No, not the waiter…”

  Her eyes got wide. “Why, Lana Case, are you being social?”

  Heat hit my cheeks. “A little.”

  “Good! Keep it up! Sorry we had to meet in my office this week, but next week I say we try the tapas place right across the street.”

  “Sounds great.”

  After another wide smile, I walked from her office and out into the parking lot. It felt good to be succeeding at something. Something I controlled. Something that was just mine and I could be proud of—

  “Shit,” I muttered when I saw Brock pull into the parking lot. What the hell was his problem? Did he make it a ritual to wait for me after class just to annoy me? I wanted to continue to my car, but thought about what Cal had said. If Brock was crazy enough to mess with me just to try to inspire fear, it wasn’t worth taking on a potentially dangerous situation.

  I turned, hustled back inside, and headed straight for Erica’s office.

  “Lana?” she asked, surprised when I just bolted in. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, sorry I just got spooked walking in the parking lot.” I didn’t want to say that my step-brother was trying to make my life miserable, but close enough.

  “This time of year, the campus seems to get darker and more desolate even earlier than usual. I was getting ready to leave too, we can walk out together.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “Let me just pack up here,” she said, putting my proposal and her laptop in her bag, “And I’m just waiting for—”

  “Hey, babe,” a voice said from the doorway. The same voice that plagued my nightmares. I turned and saw Brock.

  “Hi!” Erica said, and hustled over to kiss him. My eyes shot wide. “Lana, this is my fiancé, Brock VanBuren.”

  No. No, this wasn’t happening.

  “Lana is scared to walk to her car,” Erica said to him, putting a hand on his chest. “So, I told her we could walk her?”

  “Of course we can,” Brock said with a smile, throwing his arm around Erica.

  I opened my mouth to say something. Something along the lines of “Run!” or “Please, God, wake me up from this nightmare.” But Brock beat me to it.

  “And no need for an introduction, babe,” he said to Erica. “Lana here is family. Right, sis?”

  I choked on the instant bile that rose in my throat. But Erica seemed just as taken aback as I was.

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” She glanced between Brock and me.

  “It’s a fun surprise. I knew Lana went to school here, but didn’t know she had the best professor on campus,” he said, and kissed her quickly. I wanted to hurl. He was so smooth and easy to believe.

  It was obvious that Erica did. Her face was flushed with excitement, and I could see the adoration in her expression when he tightened his arms around her and cradled her into his side. My professor—my friend—was in love. With my rapist.

  I wanted to keel over.

  “Step-sister,” I finally said. The only words that made sense and I could muster to come out of my shocked mouth. Both Brock and Erica frowned at me like I’d just spoken a different language. I gathered myself quickly. “I’m his step-sister. And, yes, this is quite a surprise.”

  Erica snuggled deeper into Brock, her arm lovingly slid around him, connecting them as a single unit. Reminding me, once again, when it came to my family, it was me standing against them. Alone.

  “Well, that explains why I didn’t know by your last name. Good thing he showed up. You ready to go to your car?” she asked.

  I wanted to tell her, no, I didn’t want to go anywhere with him, then steal her away and tell her everything. Call him out on the horrible person he was. On what he did to me. To my family. But my mouth wouldn’t move. My feet just carried me like a zombie to my car, following behind Brock and Erica, as my mind tried to process how the one area in my life I was proud of, thought I had control of, was now within Brock’s clutches.

  “Great job again on the proposal,” Erica said, as I got into my car. “Can’t wait for our meeting next Monday.”

  I felt sick. Monday was something I had been looking forward to, had been working all semester to achieve. Finally going to the board. Only now, getting that final write-off from Erica would mean inviting the one person I had worked so hard to exorcise from my life, back in.

  “Erica, wait,” I said. “I need to talk to you.”

  She turned toward me, but Brock kept her close. “Actually, we’re heading to the airport,” Brock said, then turned his attention on Erica. “We’re already running late, babe.”

  “Oh.” She checked her watch. “Shoot! Yes, we are. I have a conference this week in Phoenix. So sorry, Lana, but let’s talk Monday, okay?” She waved and hustled with Brock in the other direction.

  “You drive safe now, sis,” Brock said with a wink, but his stare was cold and threatening. It was the first time I felt truly terrified of him in weeks. I started my car and sped off, wondering if this was what shock felt like. No, no I didn’t need to wonder. I was pretty sure this was shock.

  I parked in front of my house, but didn’t go in.

  I inhaled through my nose and exhaled out of my mouth, trying to take calming breaths. I could deal with this…I could deal with this…

  All that strength I was trying to obtain was nowhere to be found. All the practice of beating
back fear and anxiety wasn’t helping. But I still tried. Tried to handle what had just happened. Tried to handle the fact that Brock was back in my life, despite my best efforts.

  My eyes hurt from the strain of keeping back tears. Angry tears. All while trying not to hate myself for being damn near mute. Maybe I should have screamed? Tried harder to tell her? Yell if I had to. But I didn’t. I watched her walk away with my sick step-brother.

  I needed a sounding board. Needed to gather myself. Needed a plan.

  I ran across the street toward the fire station. Little flecks of rain started coming down, the kind that carried a gust of wind with them and stung when they hit my face.

  Ringing the bell, I crossed my arms tightly around myself and bounced on my toes. I waited and finally the door opened and it was Cal.

  “What happened?” he asked instantly, concern knitting his brow. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay…I need you.”

  ~

  My heart was beating so fast I could feel it in my throat. I paced back and forth in Cal’s room, clenching and unclenching my fists. But there was nothing to grab. Nothing to hold on to.

  “I should have told her!” I said, continuing my strides along the walls of his room like a caged animal. “I just stood there, horrified, while he smiled and kissed her, and I just…froze. How could I do that?”

  “It’s okay,” Cal said, and gently cupped my shoulders, halting my frantic back and forth movement.

  “No, it’s not okay. What if he hurts her?”

  Cal looked down at me, his thumbs rubbing slowly on my skin, keeping eye contact. “If he’d hurt her, you would have been able to tell.”

  The idea made me shudder, but Cal was right. If Brock had shown her his true nature, Erica would have likely been some level of solemn, but she was all giddy and happy. Which meant she had no idea about the kind of man Brock really was.

  “I should have said something,” I whispered.

  “You were shocked, it happens. Don’t give yourself a hard time about this. Now, you have time to think about how you want to handle this.”

  “I want to tell her,” I said, knowing that I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.

  “Okay,” he said with all the support in the world. “Then let’s figure out the best way to go about that. But first, I want you to take a deep breath.”