“My husband, Roger,” there’s an uncomfortable pause as she shifts on the chair, “he doesn’t know that I was previously married.”
I blink and attempt to wrap my brain around what she’s saying. “You,” it takes effort to swallow down the hurt and pain, “never told him about me?”
“No,” she whispers faintly, “I didn’t.”
Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips as I retract my hand. “You have to understand what it was like for me.”
For her?
I have to understand what it was like for her?
You know that feeling you get when you fall and land flat on your back? The way it knocks the air from your lungs, making it impossible to breathe? You gasp, can’t talk, and your eyes sting?
That’s exactly how I feel at this moment.
When I remain mute, at a loss, she rushes to fill the void of silence that stretches between us.
“After I left your father, I was in a really dark place. It was my therapist who helped me to realize that I’d been suffering from post-partum depression. The creativity I’d always taken for granted was no longer there, and that was terrifying. It was like having an arm amputated. Who was I without my art? Even though the decision was difficult, I chose to leave.” She presses a hand to her chest. “There was no way I could be the mother you needed when part of me was missing.” There’s an uncomfortable pause. “You understand that, don’t you?”
Yeah, I understand perfectly.
When I’m finally able to summon my voice, it’s completely devoid of emotion. “You chose your art.”
Over me.
Instead of me.
The unspoken words hang painfully in the air between us. The tentative bridge we had been building has now been destroyed.
Her eyes widen. The gathered wetness makes them shiny. “I know that’s what it sounds like, but my motives weren’t that selfish.”
A humorless laugh bubbles up in my throat. Or maybe it’s all the emotion I’ve kept locked away for all these years.
“You might not realize it, but you were better off without me,” she whispers.
She just might be right about that. Although, we’ll never know.
“It sounds like your father’s wife—”
“Jenna,” I snap, cutting her off. “Her name is Jenna.”
“Sorry.” She swallows thickly. “It sounds like Jenna treated you well.”
For all Candace knows, Jenna could have been pure evil. Thank fuck, she wasn’t. I have a couple of friends with stepparents, and they don’t get along. I really lucked out in that regard. Jenna is everything that Candace is not and could never be.
Was unwilling to be.
I fold my arms across my chest and press against the back of the chair, needing to put as much space between us as possible. All of a sudden, the walls of the coffee shop are pressing in on me, making it difficult to breathe. I suck air in through my nostrils, filling my lungs, attempting to calm everything racing inside me. The urge to bolt hums beneath my skin, making me twitchy.
“Colton?” She leans forward, stretching her hand out across the table. “Please, talk to me.”
It takes effort to fight my way out of the pain that pounds through me before blinking sightlessly at her fingers.
I can’t.
I can’t bear for her to touch me.
“If you never had any intention of letting me back into your life, why did you bother with this?”
She gulps as if thrown off by the blunt question. “I needed to see with my own eyes that you were okay. That I made the right decision all those years ago.”
Ah.
So the point of this little exercise was to assuage her guilt.
Got it.
I clear my throat, unable to sit in her presence any longer. “As you can see for yourself, I’m good. No need to worry or think about me for another sixteen years.”
“Colton,” her face drains of all color, “I don’t want it to end like this.”
Yeah, well...it’s a little late for that.
Sixteen years too late, to be exact.
This woman could never understand the kind of damage she inflicted. She has no idea the emotional scars I carry around with me or how they’ve affected every single relationship. Only now do I realize the extent of the destruction.
Silently, I rise from the chair. I think we’ve said everything that needed to be said.
Her dark eyes widen as she scrambles to do the same. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah.” I hear my voice as if from a great distance. “I need to get back to school.”
“Please, let me explain it better.” Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips as a frantic light enters her eyes. “I didn’t do a good job.”
“Actually, you did. I appreciate you being upfront and telling me the truth.”
She sucks in a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to have hurt feelings.”
I almost laugh. Is this lady serious? My fucking feelings are already hurt. More like completely annihilated.
“Can we sit and talk for a few more minutes?” She makes one last-ditch effort at damage control.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Then let’s set up another time to meet. Whatever works for you, that’s what we’ll do.”
I drag a hand over my face before glancing at the exit with longing. I just want to get the hell out of here. Instead of walking away, I mumble, “Do you have any intention of telling your family about me?”
Her shoulders slump as her face falls.
Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought. There’s nothing more for either of us to say.
I jerk my head into a nod. “Take care, Candace.”
On legs that feel shaky, I push my way out of the coffee house and into the crisp fall air. By the time I reach my BMW, I’m sick to my stomach. It takes a couple of attempts to jam the key into the ignition. Relief floods through me when the metal slides home, and I rev the engine. As I pull away from the curb, my gaze flickers to the rearview mirror, only to find Candace standing on the sidewalk, staring after me.
With a heart that feels like it’s splintering apart, I realize that’s exactly where she belongs.
In the rearview mirror.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Alyssa
It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, and I still haven’t heard from Colton. Why hasn’t he shot me a text? Or given me a quick call? I’d take anything at this point. I just want to know everything is all right.
That he’s all right.
As I push through the lobby door of the apartment building and hustle down the cement walkway, I slide my phone from my pocket and peek at the screen for the umpteenth time in the last thirty minutes.
Ugh. Could I feel more like a needy girlfriend?
And we’re not even going out.
But still...
After all these years, I finally feel like Colton has cracked open the door, allowing me a glimpse of the person beneath the persona. I now have a better understanding of him. If I’m being completely honest, I’m afraid this meeting with Candace will somehow slam that door closed again, and we’ll backslide. There’s no way I can deal with him shutting down on me for a second time. If Colton wants to have a relationship, he needs to open up and let me in.
As I reach the edge of the parking lot, a glint of metallic gray catches the corner of my eye, and my footsteps falter as I take a closer look at the vehicle.
Sure enough, Colton’s metallic gray BMW is sitting in the lot.
He’s back? And he didn’t bother to call or text?
A wave of hurt floods through me. It shouldn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that it does. As I continue to stare, the door opens, and Colton unfolds himself from inside. One glimpse of his face is all it takes for me to realize that whatever happened with Candace wasn’t good. Even from this distance, grief swims around in his eyes. His mouth is a tight slash across his face, and his b
ody vibrates with pent-up energy. Almost as if there is something inside him trying to claw its way out.
My first impulse is to take him into my arms and soothe away all the hurt that has been inflicted, but...
I have no idea if that’s what he wants.
Or needs.
Because when it comes down to it, I don’t really know Colton.
Those thoughts are slammed home when his gaze flickers in my direction, locking on mine. There’s a flash of surprise before it’s tucked away behind an expressionless mask. When he stays frozen in place, I tentatively raise my hand in greeting. We stare for a long moment before his legs eat up the distance between us. He stops a couple of feet from where I stand on the sidewalk.
It takes effort to swallow down my disappointment when he doesn’t reach out and pull me into his arms. The loss of that intimate connection makes us feel more like acquaintances than anything else. It’s disheartening. Up close, his features appear even more haunted. Closed off. It’s just as I feared. If he would give me a sign that he wanted me to make the first move, I would do it in a heartbeat.
Instead, I stay rooted in place. “Hi.”
“Hey.” His mouth never lifts into a smile.
Unsure what to say, I glance at the car. “Did you just return?”
“Yeah.” He plows a hand through his hair before muttering, “I should really get moving. I’m already late for practice. I don’t need to give Coach any more reason to bench my ass.”
With that, he takes a step away, and the question bursts free from my lips before I can rein it in again. “Are you all right?”
He shrugs. “I’m fine.” There’s a monotone quality to his voice. One that scares me. It’s like he’s a million miles away, and there’s no way for me to reach him.
I bite down on my lower lip before asking, “Do you want me to walk with you to the field?” It’s hesitantly that I close the space between us. “We could talk on the way.” I don’t care if that makes me late for class.
“I appreciate the offer, but I just want to be alone.”
“Sure, I get it.” My shoulders slump under the weight of the moment. Even though it feels like we’ve been gradually inching our way into unchartered territory with this relationship, it now feels like we’re taking a gigantic step in retreat. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it from happening.
Colton shifts impatiently as if he can’t wait to get away from me. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
One long-legged stride puts an ocean of distance between us. If I were desperate enough, I could leap forward and grab hold of him, but that would do nothing to change the emotional gulf that has developed. Colton is good at closing people off. He’s spent his entire life mastering the art of walking away.
A mixture of fear and regret bloom inside me. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” As he takes another step, I add pathetically, “Call me.”
He jerks his head toward the building. “Gotta go.”
Before I even have a chance to lift my hand, he dismisses me, only to disappear inside the lobby without another glance in my direction. A wave of sadness crashes over me, threatening to suck me under. Maybe I was stupid for not anticipating this outcome. Or guarding my heart better against Colton.
Although, I have to wonder if that was ever a possibility.
Somehow, I don’t think so.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Alyssa
Even though I should be plowing my way through this work, I’m staring off into space, lost in the tangle of my own conflicted thoughts. I can’t concentrate to save my life which is why I dragged Mia to the library in the first place. I have a test coming up on Friday and a paper that needs to be outlined if I’m going to complete it by the due date. Between fifteen credits, carving out time in the studio, and teaching a couple of classes, I’ve got a jam-packed schedule and more than enough to keep my brain occupied so that I don’t dwell on the Colton situation.
But guess what?
The blond football player continues to dominate all of my thoughts.
I give myself a good mental slap before refocusing my attention on the computer screen. Everything in me deflates as I read over the paragraph for the umpteenth time. I’m irritated that I allowed my advisor to talk me into this upper-level psych course. I thought it would be a blowoff class that would allow me more time to focus on dance.
Ha!
Jokes on me. That hasn’t turned out to be the case. Not by a long shot. The professor is a real hard-ass. Now I’m stuck writing a ten-page paper on the measurement of critical thinking.
The measurement of what?
Exactly.
Unfortunately, it’s much too late to switch classes and pick up something else. I can’t afford to drop it unless I want to take eighteen credits next semester. And, to be clear, I don’t. Especially when I’ll be busy rehearsing for my final spring showcase.
So, I’m stuck with this class for the duration.
When I huff out a breath, Mia glances up from the laptop she’s working at on the other side of the table. “You doing okay?”
Now there’s a loaded question. One I’m not entirely sure how to answer.
“Yup.” There’s a beat of silence. “Why?”
She shrugs and leans back in her chair before stretching. We’ve been camped out here for a couple of hours. I glance at my screen, dismayed to realize that I’ve barely accomplished anything.
Ugh. I’ve blown two hours of prime study time that I’ll never get back again.
“You just seem,” her brows draw together, “I don’t know...preoccupied?”
Little does Mia realize that I sped past preoccupied doing ninety on the freeway a while ago.
I drag a hand over my face and try to shake off everything that’s been eating away at me. My teeth sink into my lower lip. I have yet to come clean to Mia about my recent involvement with Colton. Then again, is there really anything to tell her about? He’s done exactly what I was afraid of and pushed me away.
It’s like déjà vu all over again, and it leaves a pit sitting uncomfortably at the bottom of my belly. One that hasn’t budged for days.
“So,” I hedge, a little nervous about how she’ll react, “I haven’t exactly been honest with you.”
Her brows rise as she pushes her computer to the side. “About what?”
More like who.
“Colton—”
“I knew it!” she crows, pokering up in her chair and stabbing a finger in my direction. “I knew something was going on! It’s like I could sense a disturbance in the force.”
I wince at the accusatory tone that fills her voice. So much for taking this in stride. Although, who can blame her? She was a hundred percent right to be concerned. It was a mistake to get involved with him again. “I’m sorry. I should have been straight with you.”
A flicker of hurt flashes across her face as she folds her arms across her chest. “Then why weren’t you?”
I shrug and glance away. “After the way my relationship ended with Colton the first time, I felt like an idiot for getting caught up in him again.”
“I hate how he hurt you, Lys. You took off for a year because of the guy.”
“That’s not totally true,” I mumble. All right, so maybe there’s more truth in the statement than I’m comfortable admitting. I never would have considered the study abroad program sophomore year had Colton not unceremoniously dumped my ass. The only difference is that I now have a better understanding of why he did it. But does that necessarily do me any good?
Nope.
“So what’s going on now?” There’s a beat of silence followed up by another question. “Are you two a thing?”
“If you’d asked me a week ago, I could have given you more of a definitive answer but now?” I shrug. “I have no idea.”
“What happened?”
As tempting as it is to confide in Mia, it’s Colton’s private business. The last thing I want to do is spread gossip or divulge his s
ecrets. Only now has he started to open up, giving me a glimpse of the demons he struggles with. As much as I hate how he pushed me away, I get it. Every time I think about the pain he carries around with him, it breaks my heart all over again.
The unavoidable conclusion that I’ve arrived at is that he’s going to do it again. Already he’s withdrawing from me. Maybe not consciously but that seems to be the pattern of behavior he retreats into.
“He’s going through something personal,” I finally offer by way of explanation even though it isn’t much of one.
She nods as clouds gather in her dark eyes. In a way, Mia can relate to someone not wanting to air their dirty laundry for people to talk about. There’s been enough bullshit with her own family—especially now that her parents are separating.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. Colton has been really distant this week.” And that has everything to do with his mother and what happened when they met for coffee. Even though he’s been pretty tight-lipped about the meeting, it’s obvious that it didn’t go the way he’d hoped. The pain radiating from his eyes when we’d run into each other in the parking lot had been like a knife to my heart. All I’d wanted to do was pull him into my arms.
“You need to talk to him and get it figured out before this goes any further. If Colton can’t step up, then it’s time to cut your losses and move on. For real this time. I know that sounds harsh, but you deserve better than this.”
I swallow down the thick lump of emotion that has become wedged in the middle of my throat. She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. As much as I’ve always had a thing for Colton, I’m unsure if he’ll ever be able to open up emotionally and give me the kind of relationship I need. That’s not a knock on him. It’s just the way it is.
Decision made, I grab my phone from the table and tap on Colton’s name before hastily typing out a message and hitting send before I can change my mind.
Are you busy? Can we talk?
My heart pounds a painful staccato against my ribcage as three little bubbles appear.
The Boy Next Door Page 24