Gatlin had called three times over the last few days, but she hadn't spoken with him, or returned his calls. She needed time to think; to make a clear decision.
Her gut had never led her wrong, and it was telling her in this instance that she was up against odds that she just couldn't beat where he was concerned.
She believed that as long as two people were willing to work on problems, they always had a shot. But if either was closed, it was impossible. One person could not solve the problems between two people — especially when they were the two people in the relationship.
Even though she loved Gatlin, Kylie had decided to end the relationship. She wanted what her parents had. She'd never believed that you had to fight for love; at least not like this — fighting for someone to let you in to love them.
Before she got in any deeper — although she didn't feel she could love him any more than she already did — she knew she had to end it.
She could be saving herself years of heartbreak, her mother had said. And she knew it was true.
. . .
"Did you like it?" she asked politely as they walked through Central Park.
Gatlin and Kylie had bumped into each other in the office that day. He'd sent her an email, asking her to meet him in Central Park for lunch.
"It was brilliant Kylie, and very thoughtful. Thank you. I'll cherish it forever," Gatlin said, thinking of the framed photo he'd placed on his nightstand next to his stack of ever-present books.
It kept her presence near. She was always with him anyway — in his heart — but this was a visual reminder that calmed his soul every time he looked at it. It was the first thing he looked at when he woke in the mornings and the last thing he looked at before falling asleep each night.
To ease the awkward silence, Kylie took the conversation to neutral territory, "You must be getting excited about your book coming out?"
"Yes, I am … Kylie why didn't you return my calls," Gatlin asked, taking her by surprise.
"To be honest, I didn't know what to say and I needed time to think. … I was going to, really."
"Listen Kylie, I'm sorry about the other night. I don't know what got into me, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"I accept your apology and you're right, you shouldn't have taken whatever it was out on me," she said, touching his arm to ease her words.
Taking a deep breath, she continued. "Gatlin, look. Like I said, the reason I didn't return your calls is because I needed time to think … about us, how things are between us and where they might be going."
Crossing her hands over her chest as if to guard her heart from the next words, she continued, "I think it's best if we go our separate ways."
She could see him visibly flinch, but he didn't say anything, just stuck his hands in his jean pockets and continued to listen.
"When you said the other night something to the effect that I live in the land of sunshine and butterflies, you're right. I've only had a grade A model of what a relationship between a man and a woman is supposed to be like."
"My parents have been married for almost 39 years. But what's even more amazing is they've been happily married for all that time. I see it in the way they look at each other, the way they treat each other and the way they talk to each other."
"They're each other's best friend. And I know not all marriages are like that. I'm not naïve. But what I do know is that I can't settle for trying to find anything less. What scares me about our relationship is, in my opinion, your inability to open up; to fully let me into your life. We've been dating for over three months, and I know practically nothing about your early life; about your family."
"And when I point blank ask you about it, you just shut me out. That scares the hell out of me because I think, 'Hm, if this turned into a long-term, committed relationship, what else won't he open up to me about? And, how will we solve problems if one of us is shut down.' That's a recipe for disaster."
"I know I'm projecting and I know it's early in our relationship, but my father used to say, 'Forget about what a man says, watch what he does — especially early on; that'll tell you everything you need to know about him.'"
"I love you Gatlin. I think you're amazing in so many ways. You're talented, ambitious, scrupulous, open-minded — and not to mention drop dead gorgeous," she said, smiling sadly.
"I think we could have an amazing life together," she said, looking directly into his tiger-like eyes as she wiped the tears that began to fall at all that was not going to be. "But, I just can't fathom being with someone who won't share themselves fully with me. I know me. I'm an open book, and that would kill my soul, my spirit. Eventually, we'd both be miserable and I care too much about myself and for you to let that happen."
Glancing at her watch, she finished, "I need to get back to the office. Deadline, you know," she said, trying to smile.
Kylie impulsively reached up and gave him a goodbye kiss on the cheek. "Take care of yourself Gatlin, and good luck with everything. I'll be looking for your book this holiday season."
Gatlin watched her walk away, her steps speeding up the farther away she got from him.
Chapter 11: A Stolen Life
While he had hoped against hope that it wouldn't come to pass, Gatlin had known what was coming; that Kylie was going to leave him. And, he wasn't surprised at her reasons either. He didn't blame her. It wasn’t the first time he'd been accused of being emotionally closed.
Usually, by the time one of his exes left, he was ready for it to end anyway. His work had always been his priority, but with Kylie, it was different. She breathed life into him. She made him see the world through different eyes. She made him see … period.
Gatlin took a seat on the nearest bench. The reality that Kylie was no longer part of his life literally took his legs out from under him.
As he looked around the park on this beautiful spring day, he took a moment to really see things, not just look at them.
He looked at the rustle of the trees, and took in the sound the leaves made as the wind whizzed through them.
He looked at the young couple who passed in front of him holding hands. They'd last, he thought, just by the way they walked, almost leaning into each other, instead of away from each other..
He looked at the college-aged young man throwing a ball to his dog. He couldn't tell who was enjoying the game more — the laughing young man or the excited little terrier.
All of a sudden, Gatlin felt like he'd been living a stolen life — so much of it had been taken from him because he hadn't dealt with his past.
How much more of it was he willing to give up? he pondered, as he opened the emotional door he kept under lock and key at all times.
. . .
"Stop it. Stop hitting my mom!" Gatlin yelled, jumping in front of his mother to prevent his father from landing another blow.
"This is between your mother and me boy! Move outta the way," his father said in his drunken slur.
"Gatlin, go to your room. It's okay, honey. Mama's ok."
"No you're not okay. You're not mom. I'm not leaving you," Gatlin cried, his seven-year-old voice cracking with fear as he did his best to drag his mom from the room.
As his father's fist prepared to land on his mother again, Gatlin kicked him in the groin. He doubled over in pain, shouting, "You miserable little piece of shit! I'll kill you for this! I'll kill you, do you hear me! I'll kill you!"
Gatlin's mother ran to his father's side. "Honey are you alright? Are you alright?" she said, wiping blood from the side of her lip with one hand while she consoled his father, who continued to writhe in pain on the floor, with the other.
. . .
Gatlin had mentally catalogued hundreds of these types of memories from his childhood. But this particular one stuck with him more vividly than the others. And he wasn't sure why until he realized that it was when Kylie had said to him during their last argument, "I believe in love — and I won't let anybody take that dream away from
me."
When his mother had gone to his father to comfort him, instead of coming to him as a frightened, desperate 7-year-old, he realized the power that love had. His mother had loved his father beyond all rhyme and reason — even beyond her child, he thought.
He didn't realize it, but that had been the moment he'd stopped believing in love. Love hurt. It was cruel. It wasn't kind. It wasn't loyal, or it was loyal to the wrong people.
Sitting on a bench in Central Park on this sunny, spring day, a butterfly landed close to him, providing a much-needed break from reflecting on his tortured past.
It flapped its colorful wings slowly back and forth, as if it was content to just enjoy the warmth of the sunshine. Gatlin stared at it. He'd never observed a butterfly before. Ever … just like he'd never seen and felt real love before … ever.
Until Kylie.
I can't lose her, he thought. I just can't.
The butterfly took flight as he stood to leave.
Chapter 12: To Believe in Love
"I believe in love — and I won't let anybody take that dream away from me." Kylie's words reverberated over and over again in Gatlin's head as he lay in bed that night.
Could he start to believe in love too? Had he already started to? He loved Kylie; he knew that for sure. But he'd never connected it to believing in the concept of this thing called love, which had only caused so much grief in his life.
Why hadn't his mother left? If she had, she might still be alive and he wouldn't have been shuffled from foster home to foster home as he grew up. He might have a relationship with his father, who was still serving time in prison for her murder.
This thing called love had figuratively killed everything a person was supposed to hold sacred in life, especially a child. It had destroyed his sense of security. It had skewed his knowledge of what was right and wrong. It had ripped away his ability to love. It had literally killed his family.
And then Kylie had come along …
Hope and love were fluttering inside him, like the wings of a butterfly flapping in the sunshine.
Could he make the leap into full-blown belief? Could he trust enough to share all of himself?
Chapter 13: Breaking the Cycle
The last two weeks had been the hardest of Kylie's life. She'd told her editor that she would be working from home for a couple of weeks because she had some personal issues she was dealing with.
He hadn't given her a problem about it, simply saying, "Meet your deadlines, no problem." It's one of the things that had kept her at The City News. Larry, the managing editor could be a hard-ass sometimes, but he was also very fair. Pretty much as long as you made the mandatory monthly meeting and met your deadlines — turning in killer stories, of course — he didn't hover.
Of course, the real reason Kylie wanted to avoid the office was so she didn't have to see Gatlin. Her emotions were still so raw, she needed time to at least let a scab start to grow over the scar on her heart before having to face him on a regular basis.
What she didn't know is that she needn't have worried. Gatlin had done pretty much the same thing; although he took the unofficial route by staying out of the office as much as possible. As a crime reporter, it wasn't hard to do. Even when he wasn’t working on a particular story, he could do ride alongs with detectives, or interview various different sources to come up with a story.
. . .
"The official cause of the death of Ms. Bocelli is a drug overdose," the coroner was saying.
Gatlin and Kylie were at the press conference for the release of the official coroner's report for Anna Maria Bocelli, the young celebrity who'd died almost four months ago.
Squeezed in with what seemed like 200 other reports, Kylie was just to Gatlin's right. He never knew it was possible to miss the actual scent of a person, he thought as her hair brushed against him.
Kylie was acutely aware of Gatlin. Even though she was ostensibly focused on what was going on in front of her, she couldn't have repeated a word the coroner said. Thank goodness she wouldn't have to due to the marvels of modern technology like recording devices.
"Do you want to cab it back to the office together?" Gatlin said. "I'm sure Larry would appreciate the expense report savings," he continued, striving for a light tone.
"Sure," Kylie said. "Since we have to get right down to putting this story to bed, makes sense."
. . .
"I'm tuckered out," Kylie said three hours later as they filed the final version of the story -- at least this installment. Larry, her managing editor, had been right. This story had legs. Almost four months later, there was still new things coming to light about the deceased starlet that made it a hot story still.
Kylie lifted her arms over her head and stretched back in her chair.
She'd forgotten just how much fun it was working with Gatlin. Ideas flowed from him quick, much like her mind worked. He was also a much better note taker than she was, lending details she might have missed or had to dig for had they not been working on the story together.
The thing she appreciated most about working with him though was that he was a consummate professional, just like she was. In spite of the personal history between them, once they got down to work, it didn't affect the process at all. The work just flowed, as it had from day one.
"Yeah, me too," Gatlin said. "It's been a long one," he responded to her remark about being tired.
Standing up to grab her purse, Kylie said, "Nice working with you again Matthews," trying to keep things casual. "Have a good night," she said and turned to leave.
Now that work was done and the personal history between them was front and center, Kylie wanted to escape as soon as possible. She'd forgotten how golden his eyes were; how his face looked with stubble on it; how his jeans fit just right; how deep his voice was, and how incredibly sexy he smelled.
All of a sudden, she felt claustrophobic — suffocated by her need for him.
"Kylie, do you remember when you said to me, 'I believe in love — and I won't let anybody take that dream away from me,' he said all of a sudden, taking her by surprise.
She stopped in mid-stride, her purse only half way on her shoulder, as she turned around to face him.
"Yes, I do."
"I never wanted to take your dream away from you, you know. I wanted to give it to you … but I didn't know how."
"What are you trying to say Gatlin?"
"That the sun will never shine as bright for me if you're not in my life Kylie. And butterflies … well, they'll only ever be caterpillars for me without you."
"I love you. I want to build a life with you because without you, I know I'll only ever live a half life — not a full, joyous one filled with butterflies and sunshine. You made me see the possibility of that life gift Kylie, and I want to give you the same."
"Gatlin, I'm not quite sure what to say," she said bowing her head. She didn't want to see the love so evident in those sparkling, cat-like eyes. It was too hard because the problems that tore them apart remained. "I …" she began.
"Will you just let me finish before you say anything?" he interrupted her, almost pleading.
"Kylie I don't blame you for breaking things off with me. You had every right to and you were wise to do it. Everything you said is true. I've never been able to let anyone in, as you put it. Ever … until now."
"Will you go to dinner with me? I know you must be hungry and goodness knows I am. I'll tell you the whole sordid tale of my life. Everything. Then if you decide that you still don't want to be involved with me, well, I'll have to find a way to deal with that."
. . .
Two-and-a-half hours later, as they sat in O'Reilly's Steak Pub, Kylie absorbed all that Gatlin told her with tears in her eyes.
"Dear God Gatlin, how did you turn out to be such an amazing man? You know how many people don't break the cycle; who go on and repeat the past? I thought I loved you before, but …"
She stopped, and simply squeezed his hand across
the table.
He squeezed her hand back in silent gratitude for her understanding and empathy. "You know, I think one of the reasons I'm so drawn to crime reporting is that it gives victims a voice. As you know by my tendency to shut down, many of them don’t feel like they have one. And even when they do, they don't trust it."
"While I didn't turn out to be violent like my father, I have done my share of emotional damage to women I've been with by being so closed. You're the first woman to make me want to change that; to make me realize I have to change that to live a full life."
"One of the things I love about you is your optimistic outlook on life. You always see the bright side. I don't think I've ever met anyone who … eats life like you do."
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