I’ve never seen him this mad before. And on the edge of his anger I sense something I myself have felt. Fear. I take a step away from him and wipe my eyes. I hadn’t even known I was crying until my tears blocked my sights. I feel many things—want, pressure, something warm, and at the end of all of that, rage. He’s doing it again, throwing Brady in my face so I’ll feel what he wants me to feel.
“You’re not my boss. I care about you. Deeply,” I promise. “But I’m not going to let you tell me what to do.”
“So, you’re going to keep talking to him?”
“I don’t know!” I erupt.
His face becomes ice. “You can keep talking to him. You can have your Brady. But you don’t get me too.” He points at me threateningly. “You can’t have both.”
“I don’t want both, you stupid jerk. I only want you. Don’t you see that? I get it. You’re upset. But that’s no reason to act like this.”
He shakes his head at me, like I’m stupider than he thought. “Choose right now. Him or me.”
“I don’t want him!” I shout, losing my patience, causing my ribs to scream in pain. For the first time, Julian is causing me pain.
Something dark eats at the lightness that always exists in his eyes, light that defies the shadows within my cracks. He gets up and leaves the room without another word.
It’s as if I’m not even there. I don’t matter, when before I did. I am nothing to him anymore. I can’t even run after him. I hear his bedroom door slam a few seconds later and then the nothing he left behind infiltrates my thoughts.
I want to blame Brady. When it comes to him, Julian is a whirlwind. But so am I. We’re like two storms colliding for the sake of connecting. Our eye is bigger than our storm, and together we are stronger, we are unstoppable. Apart I am a breeze that is unnoticed, a history I am used to. But blaming Brady feels wrong. I said yes to hanging out because I wasn’t used to saying no. I’m the reason Julian is upset.
I’m always the reason.
A rush of exhaustion from deep within sweeps over me. My eyes can’t stand the idea of shedding another tear and my body drags.
I force my feet up the stairs and struggle to get my jeans down my legs. I kick them off and drop carefully onto my bed with a pained sigh. There’s a stain of blood, but I ignore it, curling up with my pillow on the side they didn’t kick. I drift off thinking about Julian’s cold eyes, and if the coldness in them is my punishment for even considering letting Brady back in.
When I wake up, my body is stiff. I’m immediately sorry for myself when I realize I have to pee. As the hour’s progress, they seem to make the pain worse.
I struggle out of bed, whimpering as I rise. My ribs detect every movement. Shuffling down the hall, I make it to the bathroom just as I hear Julian’s bedroom door open. His feet are on the stairs, and then nothing. I panic when I think he might’ve left. I wait for the front door, relaxing when I don’t hear it. I manage to get my panties off and sink gratefully onto the toilet. The hard part is getting up.
It always is.
Horror swells in my eyes when I get a look at my face. I am black, red, and swollen. I lift my shirt. Deep purple bruises snake up my ribcage. I touch one particularly dark spot and hiss in pain. My hands shake as I wash them. I get my toothbrush and scrape it over my teeth just to say I brushed them, and then I shut the light off. I can’t stand the sight of me.
My body is quivering. I want to keep going, but I don’t think that’s possible anymore.
As I’m leaving the bathroom, Julian comes up the stairs. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of blue shorts. His running shoes are black and blue. Like me. He’s got a watch on and he’s holding a glass of water in one hand.
Silently, he holds out his hand. I give him mine and he drops a pill into it. I take the water glass from him and swallow it down gratefully.
I glance sideways at him when I’m done, nervous to meet his gaze.
But he turns around without another word.
“Julian?”
He stops at the top of the stairs but doesn’t turn around. “I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
“Where are you running to?” I grumble. “Decatur?”
His feet pound down the stairs, leaving me alone at the top of them. He has left me alone too many times in too short of length. I don’t like it.
That’s the moment I realize I didn’t pick him. The realization of why he’s so upset hits me like a bolt of thunder. He thinks I picked Brady.
I set the cup down on the bathroom counter and struggle into a pair of jeans and then downstairs. Wrenching the front door open, I grit my teeth against the pain and head into the street. I can spot him. He’s a small speck in the distance against the rising sun.
“Julian!” I shout.
If I’m not mistaken, he runs faster.
I chase after him as fast as I can. I lose sight of him early on, but even then, I continue to chase after him. He has to know I chose him. That every time there’s a choice, he will be mine.
I wind up at a creek. There’s a running path cutting between the overgrown bramble and shrubs. Trees line the creek, shadowing the clear water. I walk over to the edge of the creek and struggle down to the shore. He has to come back this way unless the trail spits him out another place. And even then, he’ll run again someday. Someday he’ll find me here waiting for him.
I pick a boulder and dangle my bare feet in the ice-cold water, thinking. He’s right. I never once stop to think about how my choices are going to hurt him. Julian acts as if we’re a team. Or a couple. Some solitary force that each affects the other. I’m affecting him the way he’s affecting me.
My guilt is swift and painful. I cover my face with my hands. He’s only ever tried to help me. He’s only wanted good for me. But I don’t enjoy being told what to do. His intent may be genial, it’s still annoying. I’ve been taking care of myself for most of my life. I have this man now—who I am not supposed to want—and he wants to help me. All I can seem to do is push him away.
“What are you doing out here?”
My head snaps up at the sound of his voice. He’s holding one earphone out of his ear and his bare chest rises and falls rapidly. Sweat drips down his abs and face.
“Waiting for you.”
“You walked all the way over here?” His gruff tone sounds like a growl with his labored breathing. “Why don’t you ever think?”
I look down at the water. “I choose you. Just so you know I chose you a long time ago. I didn’t know I had to say it.”
He sighs. From my peripheral, I watch him walk down to the water’s edge. He joins me on the boulder, sitting so close I can smell his sweat. I want to lean in and inhale him. Somehow, I don’t think he’d appreciate it right now.
“I’m not psychic. I wouldn’t mind hearing it.”
I peek at him. His eyes are still off, but they’re not cold anymore as they stare at the water. “I choose you. I’ll never talk to Brady again if that’s what you want.”
“Is it what you want?” He meets my gaze.
“I don’t want Brady for anything. Nothing.” I swallow hard. “I only want you.”
His expression softens further. “I know you can’t cut all ties right now, considering he’s involved in helping us get Nessa in jail. What I don’t want is for you to get hurt again. It’s the last thing I want in this world, Kael. He’s hurt you so much already.”
“Is that the only reason?”
His lips quirk. “That, and I’m jealous. I’ve never been a jealous guy with any other woman. But with you, I can’t stand the idea of another man even looking at you. Wanting you, touching you—it drives me crazy. But I accept it. It’s going to happen. You’re attractive and any man worth anything is going to see that. What I refuse to accept is Brady. Knowing you’ve been with him infuriates me. I don’t like it, and I refuse to deal with you two hanging out. If I hung out with Layla would you like it?”
&nbs
p; I kick at the water. “Or Deborah?”
“Exactly. Now imagine if they hurt me.” He seems desperate for me to understand. “Badly. Repeatedly. And I let them hurt me. How would you feel then?”
“Powerless.”
He inhales sharply. “That’s how I feel every time you’re around him and I’m not there.”
“You’re mean when you’re jealous.” I take my feet out of the water, purple and numb from the cold. I bring my knees to my chest.
“I am. I apologize for that. I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.” He looks more upset by his outburst now than Brady. “Please forgive me? I’ll never yell at you like that again.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. Men probably promise women that all the time. I’ll never do THAT again, or I’ll never do THIS again. I heard Mr. Gibson and Bruce make them many times, and they’d break their promise hours after making them. And though I want to doubt his apology, I believe Julian. There’s no doubt, and I am struck by how incredible it feels to finally trust a man. “Forgive me for being selfish.”
“Do we forgive each other?” He kisses my hair.
I inhale his tangy and salty sweat, keeping it in my lungs where it’s safe. “Of course, we do.”
He stretches his arm around my shoulder and brings me close to his sweaty side. I refrain from licking his body. “Now would be the perfect time for makeup sex. Toe curling rough makeup sex.” He holds me impossibly close. “But you’re in too much pain and I’m too tired. Makeup sex will have to wait.”
Even in pain, I am disappointed. “That and I’m hideous.” I want that with him. A new kind of connection.
“You could never be hideous.”
“Admit it. I’m not even remotely attractive right now.”
He grasps my chin and turns my face up so I can look into his eyes. “You are breathtaking.”
I close my eyes. “You’re out of breath from running. The lack of oxygen is starting to get to you.”
He kisses my swollen tender lips softly. “I’m well aware. Wait here and I’ll go run and get the car?”
I nod against him.
A few minutes later, I hear a honk. Getting to my feet alerts me to the fact that another painkiller might not be a terrible idea. The ride back to the house is silent. I don’t feel better like I do after all the other fights we’ve had. I can still sense something in the air between us. I’m not sure how to fix it. It doesn’t feel like it wants an apology. It feels as if it wants something else, something far more substantial.
When we get back to the house, I follow him inside. The clock over the fireplace says it’s nearing noon.
“I’m going to shower.”
He’s hesitating at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m going to go do some jumping jacks.”
He gives me a wide humored smile. It’s so handsome on his face I can only stare. “Tell me how that goes.”
“Outlook not so good.”
He shakes his head at me and disappears upstairs.
My stomach growls the moment I am alone. It feels emptier than it should. I ignore it the way I always do, and walk carefully over to the couch and sink down, gritting my teeth against the pain. The TV is off and I can’t be bothered to reach the remote without bending over. I stare at my reflection instead. It’s a horror movie on its own. How long will it take for me to look like myself again? How long will it take for makeup sex? I want to have sex with Julian, to make this real. I want it now, even hideous and in pain. Him on top of me, pressed so firmly he knows I chose him.
There’s still something missing. I can feel it all the way from down here. The walls are not strong enough to block the missing pieces from my cracks.
When Julian comes back downstairs, he’s dressed in a pair of black jeans and that plain white shirt that shows off his abs. His thick brown hair is damp and pushed back, and when he walks past me I can smell his cologne. I wiggle in my seat, trying to relieve the hunger he instills in me. He is so hot right now it hurts.
He sits down next to me, barefoot and warm, and grabs the remote. I peek at him, outlining his profile. He even shaved. I recall how the sweat clung to his abs and have no choice but to fan myself. I want to cling to his abs, to taste them, to feel them pressing into me as he moves his hips …
“You hot?”
“Boiling.” I smirk and drop my hand. “Must be the pain meds.”
He turns the TV on to an episode of CSI. “Must be.”
After fifteen minutes, his cell rings. He leans over, putting his face close to me, as he gets it out of his side pocket. His expression is indistinguishable when he gets a look at who it is.
“Hunt? I haven’t checked on her. Have you?” He gives me a look like come on, how stupid do you think I am? “I don’t know her new address. You do that.” As Mr. Hunt speaks Julian’s face falls. “I’m not sure I’m up for that anymore. It’s just a Halloween dance. The kids will be fine without me.” He takes the phone away from his ear and mouths swear words that make me giggle. Putting the phone back to his ear, he sighs. “Thanks, Hunt. I’ll owe you one.” After he hangs up, he gives me a relieved look. “I’m glad that’s over.”
“The dance is ruined now. What would you have gone as?”
“Probably myself.” He tugs at his shirt. “I’m a pretty awesome costume already.”
“Yeah, you are pretty hideous.”
“Ha-ha,” he mumbles, giving my thigh a playful shove. “What would you have gone as?”
I point at my face. “Kaelyn Jeffries.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs. “She sounds hot. What color are her eyes?”
“Blue.”
A low groan burns in his throat. “Nice ass?” he checks. “She’s got to have a nice ass.”
“Are you an ass man?”
“Typically,” he reveals. “But that was before I met someone with deep red hair and a perfect pair of tits. Oh, and her legs. Oh man, Kael, her legs wrapped around my head is my fucking fantasy. Wait,” he says, when I groan in embarrassment. “Her voice is so soft and sweet, if she’s not pissed at me. Then it’s husky and sultry. It’s almost worth pissing her off. We probably shouldn’t let her go to the dance by herself. Will you go to the Halloween dance with me?” He’s grinning so wide I know he’s kidding. “We’ll ignore each other all night, you’ll dance with other guys, and then we’ll come home and I’ll wrap those thighs around my head.”
“I like the last part.”
“I bet you like the last part.” He winks at me, eyes playful. “Too bad you’re in so much pain. Maybe this time you’d stay awake long enough to see me finish you off.”
I ignore the pain and bite my lip. It’s either that, or I’ll bite him. “I’m not in that much pain.”
He reaches over to run his fingers down my cheek. “Don’t worry. When you’re better you won’t be getting any breaks.”
I lean into his touch, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry about Brady. I don’t want him to come between us.”
His thumb strokes my cheek. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I have to remember that you’re in a different place in your life than I am. You’re eighteen. You’re allowed to make mistakes and do things you shouldn’t, with people you shouldn’t,” he adds sullenly. “Although,” he continues, and I know in that instant we’re talking about what’s missing between us. “If you want to be with me, you have to accept that I’m in a different place as well. We have to meet in the middle. I acknowledge you’re not there yet, and that I am. We have to cooperate.”
“Why are you saying if? I only want to be with you.” I kiss his palm and rub against his hand, trying not to purr.
He takes a deep breath and smiles nervously. “I’m just going to come out and say this.”
He is so unlike himself, I get nervous. “Say … what?”
“I want to be with you, Kaelyn.”
Swallowing hard, I can barely meet his eyes. They’re teeming with his feelings. His wants, desires, and his fears. He’s terrified of what
he’s admitting, as if he can’t take it back once it’s out. We will be different from here on out. It terrifies me as well. I don’t want to be different. I want what we have. But what if different is a better version of now? What if we can get closer?
But what if we can’t?
“I want you to be with me too. I want you with me. I’m tired of this uncertainty. Of wondering whether you feel the same way. I can’t keep wondering. It’s driving me crazy. And then you do things like hang out with Brady and I’m left here confused. I argue with myself. She wants me, doesn’t she? The next second I’m not sure. I want to be sure. I have to be with you. I think I’m ready to move on with you.” As he speaks he leans in close, until his lips are a breath away from mine.
My eyes fill with tears. I blink them away and lean so our foreheads are pressed together. “Julian, I want the same things. You’re the only man I’ve ever met that makes me feel safe and happy. You know how to make me smile and how to make me feel beautiful. You make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. But you’ve got to remember you’re going to be my first relationship. I’m not always going to know what to do, how to do it, or how to give you what you deserve. I just want to be what you deserve.”
He closes his eyes and smiles. “Don’t worry about being what I deserve.” Opening them, he grasps my face gently between his hands. “You already are. Everything you are is everything I want. It’s that simple. And I can be patient. I’m not always going to know what to do either. We’re going to fight, disagree, and knowing you, we’re going to do it often.”
Under The Peaches (Teaching Love Series Book 1) Page 24