Ben’s friends gather him off the floor and apologize to us for his behavior.
On our way back to the bakery, I can see that Nate is clearly in a lot of pain. He is trying to hide it but the veins in his neck are bulging out, he is breathing rapidly and his eyes are watering.
“You need to see a doctor,” I say.
“Yeah, I know.” He looks down at his hand. The same hand that has all of those little scars. “Will you go with me to the hospital, Brooklyn?”
My heart drops into my stomach and I’m instantly pulled back into a small room with white walls and beeping machines. The room where I last saw Michael, lifeless and broken. The room that haunts my dreams when the walls close in on me, suffocating me while I frantically lash around to find a door that will allow me to escape the nightmare.
I close my eyes. “I . . . I can’t.” I look away, ashamed that I’m so weak.
“Oh, okay.” He looks hurt, and not just from the pain in his hand.
“No. It’s not that I don’t want to go with you. I, uh . . . well, I don’t go to hospitals anymore. After Michael . . .”
“God, Brooklyn. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” He looks sad. Then he bites his lip and asks, “Would you consider an urgent care facility?”
I take a deep breath and look at the man I have come to call my friend. He has been nothing but nice and supportive of me. How can I deny him? Plus, his hand is starting to swell so he can’t drive himself anywhere. “Yes. I can do that.” I direct him to stand over by my car when we get home. “I’ll run up and get my car keys.”
“Thank you.” He watches me go in the side door to the apartment.
Luckily, the urgent care center is not that busy and we only have a short wait. They take him back for X-rays while I text Emma to tell her and Graham what is going on. It takes ten or twenty texts and one phone call to get it through her thick skull that we weren’t on a date. She won’t listen. I think she is hell-bent on marrying me off so that I can be as happy as she and Graham are. What she doesn’t understand is the pain she will feel when Graham is taken away. Or leaves.
The nurse comes out to get me. “You can go back now, he is asking for you.” I follow her down the hall to a private room. A room with a railed bed and medical machines and pictures of diseases on the wall. A hospital room. I take a deep breath and cross the threshold.
“This must be hard for you,” Nate says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”
He’s worried about me. He has probably broken his hand, is in a world of pain and he is thinking of my feelings. God, I’m a terrible person for even saying anything. “Nate. It’s okay, really. This is nothing like a hospital anyway,” I lie. “How are you doing?”
“They gave me a pain injection while we wait for the doctor to read the X-rays.”
“Good. I talked to Emma. She said Graham wants you to call him when you get home later.”
He nods.
The door opens and a young doctor walks in and puts the X-rays up on that light-machine thing. He turns around and looks at Nate, then looks at me. “Oh, wow!” he says. “Nate Riley.”
“John Morgan?” Nate says back to him. “It’s been a long time. You’re a doctor now—that’s incredible! I’d shake your hand but . . .” He shrugs and holds up his swollen hand.
John starts to ask Nate about baseball since they were on the high school team together but Nate cuts him off. “John, man, is it broken?”
He takes a good long look at the X-rays. “Jesus, Nate, you have more pins in your wrist than a damn bowling alley.” He looks over at him. “What happened?”
Nate looks at me and then back at him. “Baseball bat.”
“Wow, sorry man. Is that why you’re not in the MLB? I always thought you’d make it to the majors, brother.”
“Yeah, listen . . . about the hand . . . broken?” Nate seems irritated. He must still be in a lot of pain.
“No. You are lucky. It’s probably stronger because of the all the pins. You’ll have some swelling for a few days. Make sure to keep it elevated and put ice on it.”
Nate looks relieved and lets out a long breath. “Good, thanks. Uh, do you remember Brooklyn Vaughn?” He nods his head to me.
“Nice to see you, Brooklyn.”
Of course he doesn’t remember me. Anyone that knew me then, knew me as Lyn. He is simply being nice. “You, too. Thanks for your help.”
He hands Nate his card, along with a prescription for some pain medication, and tells him to call him to hang out sometime.
“I’m not in town long, but I’ll try,” Nate says.
He won’t call him. He hates this town. I’m not even sure why he agreed to come here. Maybe his dad forced him to take this job. Why else would he torture himself in a town full of people he doesn’t want to see?
For you. My goddess within speaks.
On the drive home, he just stares at his wrist. Baseball bat, what did that mean? He broke his wrist on a baseball bat and now he has a bionic arm? I’m itching to ask him about it, but like everything else in his past, he is very tight-lipped.
He told me about the tattoo. Maybe someday he will tell me about this. I eye the scar on my own right hand. Maybe someday I’ll tell him about mine as well.
“Maybe we should stick with movies,” he jokes, as we make our way up the stairs to the apartment.
“Okay, you pick tonight.”
He smiles that gorgeous smile at me. Then he grabs my hand and leads me over to the couch. I am aware that he is crossing the line but I don’t care. His hand feels like heaven on my skin. He sits me down and releases me and instantly I feel cold. I miss his hand. The hand that held mine for mere seconds. I want it back.
He puts in the movie and sits next to me on the couch. Closer than normal, but not too close. We fall into our routine of laughing and yelling at the characters. I’ve never had so much fun staying at home as I have with him these past weeks.
My hair is tickling my neck and I realize that he is playing with a lock of it behind my ear. He is twirling it, over and over. I’m not even sure if he is aware that he’s doing it, but suddenly it’s all I’m aware of. I close my eyes and steady my breathing and my head falls back against the couch. He is putting me into a trance with the rhythmic twisting of my hair. Then I feel his hand softly stroke my check. And I could swear I hear him inhale deeply through his nose. Is he smelling me?
Oh, God, he thinks I’m asleep. My heart races and I try to control my breathing. I don’t want him to know I’m awake. Why is he doing this? He should stop. But I don’t think I want him to stop. I think I want him to keep going. My goddess within and my conscience are busy arguing about what I want when he lifts me off the couch.
Effortlessly, he carries me. I can feel his heart beating through his shirt. I can smell his minty breath as it rolls over my face. I think that this must be killing his hand but he doesn’t make a sound. I try, but fail, to control my own heartbeat so that he can’t see how this is affecting me.
Where is he taking me?
Please don’t take me to your room.
Yes, do.
No, don’t.
He places me on a bed and I can tell by the smell that it’s not his bed. I don’t dare open my eyes yet. I can feel him in the room—staring at me. What is he doing? I should open my eyes. I should say something. I feel a blanket coming up over me. Then I feel his hot breath on my face. He is going to kiss me.
Yes, please, kiss me.
I know I shouldn’t, but if he kissed me right here, right now, I don’t think I could resist. I know what he tastes like, I remember his kisses. I know I shouldn’t want him. I know that I can’t have him. But in this moment, I need him. I need him to kiss me.
“Goodnight, Brooklyn,” he whispers, his hot breath floating across my face. Then his soft, firm lips touch my cheek for a lingering, yet chaste kiss. He lets out a deep sigh and I hear him walk out of the room and gently close the door.
I open
my eyes and a tear rolls down my face. I cry because in this moment, I realize that I want Nate Riley. I want him so badly that my skin is humming everywhere he has touched me. I reach up and touch the place on my cheek where his lips fell moments ago. I want him to the very core of my soul.
And that is exactly why I can’t have him.
Chapter Sixteen
I love lazy Saturday mornings. When I was little, I used to crawl in bed with my parents and watch cartoons. Now that I’m older, I stay in my sleeping shorts and tank top and snuggle on the couch, watching reruns of stupid reality shows. The programs may have changed, but the feelings are still the same.
Nine o’clock rolls around and I figure I’d better get my run out of the way before I waste away the day, so I get up and throw on my running clothes. I pass by Nate’s door on my way down the hall. He is on the phone but he looks up at me and gives me a smile and a wave.
On my way out the bakery door, I cut the corner too close and my shirt snags on the door hinge. I look at it. Darn, it tore a hole in one of my best running tops. Silently cursing my way back to the apartment, I head back in and hear two voices.
I walk towards Nate’s room and realize it is Graham’s voice that I hear and that Nate has him on speaker. I’m about to turn and go get a new shirt when I hear my name.
Huh?
I’m not a nosey person by nature. Live and let live and all that. But when the guy who penetrates my dreams is talking about me with his best friend, well, that clearly has dilemma written all over it. Do I listen? I know I shouldn’t. He doesn’t know I’m back in the apartment. He is having a private conversation.
Nothing good can come from this. I need to change my shirt and sneak out. So why are my feet firmly planted outside his door? I’m pressed against the wall trying not to breathe. I can’t get my legs to move.
I am going to hell.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, man. I made her this promise. A promise not to ask her out, not to touch her. Do you know how hard that is? It’s like trying not to breathe. She is so goddamn beautiful and she doesn’t even know it. She has no fucking idea.”
“Nate, give it time. You said she seems to be coming around, acting like you are friends and having a good time with you. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes she wants you.”
“I don’t know if I can wait that long. It’s like baby steps with her. She makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I might be getting under her skin and then she makes some remark about never dating. She’s messed up from Michael dying or something. All I do is think about her. Do you know how hard it is for me to get this project off the ground when all I can see is her face, every time I sit down to sketch?” He pauses to breathe. “Dammit, now I sound like a pussy. What is happening to me?”
“I think they call that love, brother.” Graham laughs.
What? Love? No, no, no, no.
He doesn’t love me. He simply wants to sleep with me. I walk away. I don’t want to hear what Nate says next. I have to get out of here. I race down the stairs for my run, not even caring that I forgot to change my ripped shirt. I run until I almost throw up.
He can’t love me.
I have to fix this. I have an idea about how to do that. On my way back, I stop in the bakery and talk to Kaitlyn, putting my plan in place.
I shower and try to avoid Nate for most of the afternoon but I’m going to have to face him eventually. He will wonder why I’m not up for movie night.
I take some deep breaths and meditate for a minute, working up the courage to do what I have to do. What I know will hurt him. But it’s for his own good. If I can spare him the pain, I should do that.
I find him at his drafting table in his bedroom. He is drawing something and I catch a glimpse of it before he sees me and covers it up. It wasn’t the usual sharp lines of a building. It looked more like a face.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.” I bite my lip. “Um, I wanted to let you know . . . uh, I wanted to tell you that I’m going on a date tonight.”
I jump back as he startles me when he stands up so quickly that his chair falls over and smacks against the floor. “What?” He looks at me with intense eyes. “I thought you didn’t date, Brooklyn.”
“I don’t. I didn’t. But I thought maybe I should.”
He stares into my eyes and I know he is hurt. He is trying to hold it together but he wants to tear my head off. He wants to yell and scream at me. What he doesn’t understand is that I’m doing this for him. “Who is he?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“Nobody, just a friend of Kaitlyn’s.” I try to sound indifferent.
He grabs his keys off the desk, sending papers and pencils scattering around the floor. He blows by me. “Do whatever the hell you want. I’m finished.” He walks down the hall and slams the door on his way out. Hard. I think he might have even cracked the frame.
I’m standing in the doorway to his room and I can’t move. I’m staring at a drawing of me that landed on the floor at my feet. He is an incredible artist. He makes me look beautiful. An unbidden tear runs down my cheek. I’m doing this for him. I turn away and go get ready for my date.
~ ~ ~
I’ve never been to this club before and I’m glad it is halfway across town. The farther away I am from Nate, the better.
Kaitlyn’s boyfriend, Carl, has brought a friend to be my date. Scott is thirty-ish with dark hair, a solid body and a great smile. He is a firefighter so I imagine under that tight green shirt he has muscles to die for. He is gorgeous. Every woman’s dream date.
I stare at him and try to get all warm and tingly inside. I laugh at his jokes and make pleasant conversation. On the outside it seems that maybe we’re hitting it off. On the inside all I can think about is how he doesn’t have dirty-blonde hair that curls up at the ends. He doesn’t have that smile that is reserved just for me. He doesn’t have that smell.
I close my eyes and try to invoke that smell of fresh laundry and Nate. When I open them, I think that I must be some kind of witch who has conjured up the perfect man of her dreams, because when I look across the expansive bar, there he sits. I blink twice and look around. I must be hallucinating. I look back again and there he is. I know it is him but he is not looking at me. He is looking at the beautiful woman sitting next to him.
I look to my right and see that Kaitlyn has noticed Nate as well. I give her my ‘what-the-hell’ look and she beckons me closer with her finger. She whispers in my ear, “He came down to the bakery earlier to ask me where we were going tonight.” She smiles at me and shrugs.
“And you told him?” I say a little too loudly and then look around to make sure Scott and Carl aren’t paying attention.
“Sure, why not? I thought it would be fun and who doesn’t want a little excitement in their Saturday night?”
I look her dead in the eye. “You are so fired.”
She laughs at me and says to everyone, “Let’s go dance.”
Out on the dance floor we are all finding our rhythm, dancing as a foursome. Scott is a good dancer and he is starting to attract stares from hordes of women. I wonder if any of them will ask him to dance. It dawns on me that it wouldn’t bother me in the least if they did.
I look over at Nate. He has a beer in one hand, and the woman in his other hand. His hand is around her waist and his thumb is rubbing little circles into her back. He whispers something in her ear and she throws her head back, laughing in a deep throaty, sexy laugh that I can hear across the room.
I know this shouldn’t make me mad. After all, I’m the one who is out on a date. He should be able to do whatever he wants. So why do I feel compelled to go over there and rip her eyes out and pour acid into the sockets?
He finally looks over in my direction and tips his beer to me. Then he takes his hand and rubs it up her arm all the way to her neck and plays with her hair. The same way he played with my hair last night.
Hmmpf. Two can play at this game.
&n
bsp; I look away, vowing to forget he is over there with Miss Throaty-laugh. I take a few steps towards Scott so that I’m right up against him and I start to move. I move slow and sexy. I close my eyes and attempt to forget about everything for just a minute and feel the music wash over me.
Scott responds immediately, grabbing my hips and moving along with me. “This is more like it,” he says, in a deep voice that should have me begging for more. His hands are rubbing on my hips. His chest is touching my breasts. His breath is on my face. This gorgeous hunk of man is mine for the taking and I don’t feel anything. Not one spark, not one twinge. Nothing.
But Nate doesn’t have to know that. So I pretend. I put on a show for all to see.
Scott twirls me around and pulls my back to his chest. I’m dancing against him with my hands over my head. He runs his hands up and down my ribs. He puts his hand on my stomach and pulls me hard against him—so hard that I can feel his erection growing into my back. This shocks me and I open my eyes only to lock eyes with Nate, who is now on the dance floor doing similar things with his partner.
I try not to think that maybe he has his own erection from the grinding his partner is doing up against him. She throws her head back so that she can see him and her tongue comes out to lick a place under his ear. He looks at me and a slow smile creeps up his face. Not the smile he has for me. This one is different. This smile screams ‘screw you’.
The walls are closing in on me. I can’t breathe. I feel bile coming up and burning my throat. I have to get out of here. “I have to run to the ladies room,” I say to Scott.
I bee-line to the bathroom so that I can splash water on my face and get myself together. Why am I falling apart over this? This is what I wanted to happen, for him leave to me alone and get on with his life. But every time I think about him moving on, my stomach ties in knots and my fists ball up. I want to stomp right back over there and tell his date to get out, that he is mine. Then I realize how ridiculous it is that I can even think of claiming him. It goes against everything I believe, everything I know to be true. Nobody can ever be mine again. Because I don’t deserve the right to claim anyone, and if I did, they would surely be taken away.
Be My Reason Page 15