by Lea Coll
She climbed in her car. “I’ll see you at your place.”
I closed the door, jogging over to my car so she could follow me. Once we were parked in my garage, I met her by her car, walking with her toward the elevators.
“What did you have to do tonight?” she asked when we were inside the elevator.
“You’ll see.” It was what I should have said last night. All day, the excuse that I couldn’t speak as well, or I kept things close to the vest, didn’t sit well with me. She’d said she loved me. I didn’t respond with the words she needed. I might have hurt her. That was the last thing I wanted. The fact that she was patient, willing to give me more time didn’t make it right.
The feelings were there. There was no use hiding them or pretending they didn’t exist. The elevator doors opened. I knew I needed to talk to her tonight, but I hadn’t planned anything. There was no fancy dinner waiting or candlelit table. I hoped those things wouldn’t matter as much as what I had to say.
The familiar unease crept through my body until my shoulders raised, my neck ached with tension. Maybe this was a bad idea. She deserved a romantic evening not just me sitting her down to tell her the truth.
As we walked down the hall toward my condo, she placed a hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”
I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “Not really. Let’s go inside so we can talk.”
I wasn’t expressing myself clearly. I was probably worrying her for no reason. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”
Her brows furrowed, she nodded grimly. “Okay.”
I opened the door, placing my keys on the hook, toeing off my shoes. I dropped my bag on the bench by the door.
She followed suit sliding off her shoes. Her eyes widened when she saw the view of downtown, the glittering lights, the moon reflected on the water. “I’ll never get sick of this.”
She stood in front of the window in my condo, her arms wrapped around her middle, taking it in.
I laid my hands on her shoulders. “I like seeing you here in my space.”
She turned. “Yeah?”
“You fit here. For so many years it was just me. This was the space I wanted to go to be alone, but I like you here. I need you here.”
Seeing her here, everything clicked into place, like pieces of a puzzle, or gears in a clock. She was as necessary to me as breathing.
“What did you want to talk about?”
I sighed. “I screwed up last night.”
Her shoulders tensed.
My hands slid down her arms to her hands, taking them in mine. “You gave me a gift last night saying you loved me. I didn’t say it back. I had all of these excuses. I don’t express myself as easily. I haven’t ever felt this way before. It’s too soon. I held myself back when I shouldn’t. I love you, Dylan. I want to be with you. I need you in my life. I was an idiot for not saying it last night, thinking that making love to you would be enough.”
She smiled up at me, the love she felt for me shown in her eyes.
Relief poured through me that it wasn’t too late. “All I could think about today was how I’d screwed up. How I could have hurt you. I hated it.”
She was quiet for a few seconds as if considering her words. “It hurt a little but I suspected you felt the same. You show your feelings other ways.”
I hadn’t planned this conversation, yet it unfolded easily because I was telling her how I felt. It wasn’t contrived. It wasn’t wrong. It was the truth, my truth.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
DYLAN
He stepped closer, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my chin. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” I loved this because it was Reid. He wasn’t perfect but he might just be perfect for me.
“I don’t want another day to go by without you knowing exactly how I feel.”
The sincerity in his expression, the earnestness in his eyes, made my head light, my knees weak. “Thank you.”
I’d gone my entire life not getting this close to another person. I’d expected to feel vulnerable and lost when I did. Instead, I felt whole. As if this was meant to be.
His forehead dropped to mine. His hands cradled my neck, moving up to the back of my head. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“Nothing. You didn’t have to do anything.” A tingle ran down my spine at his vulnerability.
I was stunned that this man who was so confident on the field allowed himself to be so vulnerable with me. He’d told me about his family, his speech impediment. Things he never entrusted with anyone.
I should have been concerned that I hadn’t been entirely honest with him. He loved me but didn’t know me. I wanted to revel in this moment. I was what he needed. I was who he loved.
A surge of happiness, peacefulness, radiated from my heart. I touched his face, wanting to memorize his expression, remember this moment forever. Even if we didn’t work out, if my family was too much for him, we’d always have this.
I closed the short distance between our lips, kissing him, pouring all of my emotions into it, my desperation, my worry, my love for him.
He groaned. “I’ll never get enough of you.”
I smiled, hoping he couldn’t see the apprehension on my face. “I’m counting on that.”
He grabbed my hand, leading me back to his room. We kissed as we leisurely took off our clothes, savoring each touch, moan, sigh. By the time he slid inside me, I was aching with need for him, to be close to him, to be loved by him. We professed our love to each other repeatedly. It was amazing.
I did my best to push out any doubts, living in the moment. When he fell asleep, they crept in, discoloring what we’d just shared.
He’d let me in. He’d been honest with me about everything when I hadn’t been. I held back the most important part of me, the role of my family in my life. I moved to my side, watching his face, peaceful in sleep, somehow younger, more vulnerable. I touched a strand of his hair on his forehead, testing its weight, before smoothing it back.
He deserved someone who would put him first. I’d always been a little selfish. My family coming before anything else. Was this what love was? Letting someone in, shifting your priorities around?
Chapter Thirty
DYLAN
The next week, I was getting ready for Sunday brunch as usual. It was the anchor to my week until it became football Sunday. In the past, I couldn’t relax until I’d seen Mom was okay, that Dad was handling her needs. Instead, I was anxious to get to Reid’s game, to spend time with him after.
I’d been so wrapped up in Reid lately, I hadn’t called Dad to check in during the week. He hadn’t checked in with me either. That might have been because of our argument last time I saw him. Ever since I stood up to them at our last brunch, I felt good about separating myself, even if it was only slightly.
I picked up my phone. There were several missed calls, voicemails from Darlene.
I checked the voicemail. “Dylan I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Your father is away on a business trip. Your mother’s vision is worsening. I was hoping you could come over earlier, maybe stay until your Dad returns. Your mother didn’t want me to tell you. I thought you’d want to know.”
My stomach felt heavy. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten. I had a monthly calendar his assistant emailed me. The fact he’d be gone this weekend completely slipped my mind. I should have been checking up on her more, not wrapped up in Reid.
I grabbed my things, rushing to get there. When I walked in, the sunroom was empty, the slider open to the deck. I walked outside, the view of the water not soothing me like it usually would.
“How are you, Mom?” I kissed her cheek, sitting in the wooden Adirondack chair next to hers.
Her eyes stared vacantly at the water.
Darlene said she wasn’t supposed to tell me, so I needed to act like I didn’t know.
My shoulders curled forward, my earlier excitement for Reid’s game this afternoon seemed
trivial. Was she depressed?
“I’m fine.” Her voice was monotone, her eyes blank.
She was clearly not fine.
“Did something happen?” My pulse pounded hard in my ears, my fingers curled into fists.
“I’m seeing double. I can’t watch TV, I can’t read. I can’t see the water.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m so sorry, Mom” My eyes closed against her words, the pain I heard in them, the sheer terror in her voice. I hated this for her.
I leaned forward, covering her cold hand with mine. “Would you like a blanket?”
When she didn’t answer, I stood, grabbing a blanket from the living room, carefully laying it on her lap. There was no way I’d be on time for the game. I pressed my knees tightly together, resisting my need to lower my head into my hands. I might not be able to go at all.
The disappointment was dulled by the thought that had run through my head since her diagnosis, family comes first. Dad said this to me in high school when I was immature, thinking that whatever was going on in my life was more important.
My shoulders ached with the effort to straighten them. I squeezed her hand. “It will be okay.”
“How can you know that? Do you know what it’s like to wake up one morning not able to see?”
I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No. I’m so sorry. It must be awful.”
Maybe I should talk to Dad about not traveling anymore. There was always the possibility he’d say I needed to make myself more available, stop by more often.
Darlene came outside. “Brunch is ready.”
I nodded, unable to look at her, to see the sympathy in her eyes. “I’m going to talk to Darlene for a minute.
Mom didn’t respond when I stood, walking into the house. Darlene stood just inside the door.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I should have checked on her yesterday. I can’t believe I forgot Dad was out of town.” My voice was laced with guilt, shame.
“I didn’t mean to worry you. I knew you’d want to know. She woke up yesterday, scared out of her mind because she wasn’t able to see. She made me promise I wouldn’t tell you. I hoped it would get better. When she woke up worse this morning, I had to.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold things together. “You did the right thing. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
“I hate that you have to run over here. Your father hired me to help.”
“He hired you to keep an eye on her, but she’s my responsibility.” My voice sounded cold even to me.
Darlene opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something then closed it without speaking.
“Can you bring plates out on the deck so we can enjoy the view?”
Mom could hear and smell the water. It was a source of comfort even if she couldn’t see it. Or at least I hoped that’s why she was out there.
We ate mainly in silence. I wasn’t sure what to say that would make what she was experiencing better. When we’d finished, I carried our dishes to the kitchen. When I returned, I asked, “Would you like to listen to a TV show or some music?”
Pain crossed over her face. “I’m sure you have somewhere to be. Don’t you have a football game to get to?”
Guilt overrode any of the disappointment about missing the game. This is where I was supposed to be. “I don’t have to. It’s not a big deal.”
I tried not to see Reid’s face in my head when we’d said goodbye this morning, promising to see each other after the game.
That wasn’t my life. My life was here, taking care of my mother, making sure she was okay. I felt awful I’d let Reid and the promise of a relationship lead to my neglect of my responsibilities. I’d wanted my parents to handle things on their own, but the terror in my mom’s voice erased that determination.
I leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes, trying to imagine what it was like for her. “I just want to sit here, listening to the water.”
“Okay.” She didn’t argue with me or tell me to go to the game. I wouldn’t have anyway. I felt enough guilt about forgetting Dad was out of town, and not being here when she needed me.
I glanced at the time, seeing it was close to kick off. I texted Reid, knowing he probably wouldn’t see it prior to the game starting. He didn’t carry his phone with him out of the locker room. Then I texted Callie to let her know I was dealing with some family issues. I couldn’t make it.
Callie: Is everything okay?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. It’s nothing to worry about.
My phone rang, indicating Callie was calling me.
I stood. “I’m sorry, Mom. I have to take this.”
She didn’t respond, so I took the phone into the house. “Hi, Callie.”
“Is everything okay?” Worry tinged her voice.
I bit my lip not wanting to tell her when I hadn’t talked to Reid about my family yet. “I can’t be at the game today. I texted him. I’ll call him tonight too.”
She was quiet for a few seconds before she responded, “I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“You’re a good friend to him, but I can’t talk about it.”
“Have you explained it to Reid?” Her voice gentled.
“Not yet.”
“You need to.”
“I will.” It had become clear today that hiding it wasn’t good for us. He needed to know. He had a right to back away if it was too much.
“Whatever you’re dealing with I’m sure Reid will want to help.”
“It’s my responsibility.”
She was quiet for so long I thought she hung up. “I’m almost positive Reid paid for my grandfather to be moved to a better nursing facility. The social worker claims there was a special program. I know Reid visits with my grandfather on his own.”
I remained quiet, not sure what to say. She was revealing something personal.
“I’m glad he visits with my grandfather. He loves talking football with Reid. They’ve developed a relationship. It’s special. I’d never call him out on what he’s done for him. I know Reid doesn’t want to be thanked. Let him be there for you too. He’s not the type to run from problems.”
He only ran from his own. My heart ached with longing. I wanted someone standing next to me, someone to confide in, to talk to, but was it fair to ask Reid?
I heard a cheer go up in the background, reminding me she was at the game. “I’m really sorry I’m missing the game. I’d love to be there.”
“He’ll understand if you talk to him.”
“Thanks, Callie.” I hung up with her, spending the rest of the day with Mom. I couldn’t blame her for being melancholy.
Only when she was asleep did I feel comfortable leaving. Dad would be home in a few hours. I’d call in the morning to see if I’d need to stop by.
On the way home my back ached from stress. I was exhausted. My phone buzzed.
“Hey, are you okay?” Reid’s voice rang through the speakers, reassuring me, making me want to talk, to tell him everything.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I was dealing with some family things. I’m really sorry I missed your game.”
I’d checked in the afternoon. They’d lost by a lot.
“It sucked. I was worried when I saw your text after the game. Callie said she talked to you too.”
“There are some things we should talk about. You might think differently about me once we talk.”
“Are you cheating on me?” His voice was harsh.
Surprise made me speechless for a second. “No. Why would you ask that?”
“That would be the only thing that would make me think differently of you at this point.”
Some of the tension released in my neck. Callie was right. He was a good guy. The best. “It’s nothing like that. It has nothing to do with us. It’s my family.”
“Do you want me to come to you?”
“No. You must be exhausted from your game.” I wanted him to come over but didn’t want to ask that o
f him. Not when he was tired.
“I want to see you. I need to know you’re okay.” He sounded worried.
“I will be. I always am.”
“I’ll pack a bag. I can be there in an hour.”
“Reid—” But he’d already hung up.
I parked in my spot, unlocking my door. I had time, so I showered. The warm water felt good on my aching muscles. I hadn’t done anything physical but stress tended to cause backaches. I remembered the last time we were in the shower together, how he’d washed my hair, making me feel cared for, cherished.
I tried not to think about what Reid coming over meant. I tried to numb myself to the possibilities. I wrapped my hair in a towel, lathering lotion on my body before slipping into silky pajama pants and a white tank top. I secured my still-damp hair in a bun, heading downstairs to wait for Reid.
He knocked on the door while I was preparing tea. I opened the door, the numbness sliding away at the concern evident in the lines on his face. He rushed to me, shutting the door with his foot as he wrapped me in his arms.
Burying my face in his chest, I breathed in his scent, reveling in the strength of his arms. Was this what it felt like to rely on someone even for a second? To let their strength hold you up?
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” My words were muffled by his chest.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” He leaned back a few inches to see my face. “Please. Will you let me in?”
The need to tell him everything was a heavy pulsing weight on my heart. “Yes.”
“Let’s sit.” He led me into the living room, throwing some logs into the fireplace before lighting it with the igniter I kept on the mantle.
The tears in my eyes made the fire blurry. “I was making tea.”
When I made a move to go into the kitchen, he stopped me with his hand.
“I’ll get it. You sit.” He pointed to the couch.
I sank onto the couch, my body suddenly weak with exhaustion. A few seconds later, he brought me a steaming mug of tea.