Reawaken His Heart

by KL Myers

  “Needless to say, I informed her that I was a wedding planner, not a set designer for the remake of the King Arthur and that maybe she should up her meds some and wake up in the world of reality.” I know that isn’t how to handle a potential client, but trust me when I say in no way shape or form would I even entertain taking on a client with such a bizarre wedding idea. I deal with elegance, beauty, and memories you can cherish for a lifetime.

  Braedyn finds sheer delight in my sassy attitude. He laughs so hard I can see the tears in his eyes. I’m not sure why I feel the need to have his approval about making the right decision, but it does feel good to know he is supportive of my choices. Colt would have told me I was an idiot for passing up the opportunity for work, even if it was virtually impossible. He would have called me stupid and a fucking idiot and lectured me until my self-worth was completely gone.

  I’m not quite sure why I compare Braedyn to Colt or even why I think of Colt, for that matter. I haven’t given a second thought to him since the night of my accident, not counting when I gave my statement to the police. Maybe things are going so well with Braedyn, this is my way of sabotaging my night, because my mood becomes completely somber after that thought, and I can tell Braedyn feels it as well.

  “Rylee, it’s eleven and I’ve got things to do tomorrow, so you should be going before you get too tired to drive.” His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me briefly before he stands to reach for my hand. To say I am not hurt would be a lie. “Don’t you want me to stay the night, Brae?” I ask. “Is it the way I acted earlier? Is that why you want me to leave?” I can feel old emotions rearing their head. My first thought is to beg for forgiveness for whatever it was I did wrong. I want to break out in tears, I can’t leave until everything is OK between us. My need to love and be loved is taking over, and I know I better leave before I say or do something stupid. Before I can let him answer, I kiss him on the cheek, tell him to call me later, then run for my car. I don’t want to break down in front of him.

  I cry all the way home. It doesn’t make sense to me. When he was at my house, he didn’t seem to want to leave, but at his house, it felt like he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. Something is wrong. I feel it, but I don’t know what to do.

  Braedyn

  I LET HER LEAVE. I stood at my door and watched her leave. I knew she was upset. After dinner, she went into a quiet mood, and I could tell her thoughts were somewhere else. If I was honest with myself, I’m not sure I even cared since my own mind was fighting a war with itself.

  I wanted to take her upstairs, strip her naked, and make love to her all night long, but with each thought, I started to break out into a sweat. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to make the commitment to have her stay. I’ve only woken up to one girl since Brooklynn, and that was after a drunken night, which turned out to be a big mistake. I can’t even remember the girl’s name…Barbie, Bambi, Bunny, hell, it started with a B.

  When I saw Rylee yawning, I knew I had to make a decision, take the next step with her and invite her to stay, or send her home. I didn’t know what to do, so I took the chicken shit route and told her she should be heading home. Even though deep down I knew that wasn’t what I wanted.

  I saw the hurt in her eyes when I said it, but I couldn’t take it back. I watched her heart break a little, though she tried to hide it. She kissed me on the cheek, the fucking cheek instead of my lips. She kissed me like I was her friend and not someone she’s spent countless hours naked with, and then she got in her car and drove away.

  The minute she was gone, I wanted to call her and tell her to come back. My emotions were all over the place and for once in my life, I couldn’t compartmentalize them. I couldn’t tuck them into a tiny box and bury them deep. I punched the wall next to the door and then cursed myself for putting my fist through it.

  I reach for my phone and punch in her number, then clear it, deciding to type out a text instead, but then can’t send it. I’m a pussy and I know it. I do this several times before I give up and open up my Facebook app, where I immediately go to Rylee’s timeline. There on her feed is a post from thirty minutes earlier that reads,

  Girlfriends have been telling girlfriends for years, “Be with someone that ruins your lipstick, not your mascara.”

  And underneath that she wrote, “What do you do if you can never find someone like that?”

  It is apparent I hurt her badly. I never meant to, but I did, and now I need to fix it. Seeing her post is like a punch to the gut, knocking all the wind out of me. I have to make this right.

  ***

  I am up early the next morning, probably because I didn’t sleep well. I had dreams of taking Brooklynn off life support, only when I went to kiss her head good-bye, it wasn’t Brooklynn’s face; it was Rylee’s. I woke sitting straight up in bed, shaking. I lay there for quite some time trying to get back to sleep. It never happened.

  I have to make this right with her. I know that includes a huge apology and a grand gesture of some sort, but I’m not quite sure what that is going to be.

  I scour the internet for ideas for hours. Let’s face it. I’m not gifted that way. I am not someone who knows how to speak from the heart, so when I come across a website on what to give a woman to melt her heart, I decide there has to be something in there for me to use. It takes me a few moments; there are stupid things like some man who gave his wife a heart pendant that doubled as a USB stick. I mean, what the hell is that? And what girl finds that romantic? There is a guy who bought a reserved parking space for his fiancée to use for a month. I guess if you live in Manhattan, that would be cool and fitting. I think I’m never going to find anything useful until I come across something called a Love Jar. This has possibilities.

  After reading what this jar is all about, I know it’s the perfect peace offering. So I go to the craft store to buy a mason jar. When I pay the lady behind the counter, I ask her to help me out with making it look pretty, which she gladly agrees to on her lunch break after I explain to her why I need it. Then I go home and start filling it with notes. The first note says, I’m so happy I met you. The second note says, You are so beautiful. And then I add things like, I’m lost when you aren’t around, and, You brighten my days and nights. I just keep going, putting down all the little things about her that make me a better man.

  I stop to buy a dozen Stargazer lilies, because I know those are her favorites, and with flowers and my jar in hand, I head to her house. When I get there, she isn’t home, and I don’t quite know why I just expected she would be. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I text her to see where she is.

  Me: Hi. Where are you?

  Rylee: On my way to visit Bailey.

  Me: I’m at your house, when will you be back?

  Rylee: In an hour.

  Me: I’ll be here.

  My bright idea of waiting comes to an end about fifteen minutes later; there is no way I am going to make it another forty-five minutes. I am already bored out of my mind. I start to back away from her home when I see her pulling around the corner. When she pulls up beside me, I roll down my window. “What are you doing here? I thought you said an hour?”

  “I felt really bad knowing you would be waiting on me, so I called Bailey and explained. Besides, I’d rather spend time with you than Bailey.” She laughs out loud.

  As I get out of the truck, I try to hide the flowers, but she spots them immediately and comes running to my side, grabbing them from my hands. “Thank you! They are my favorite,” she tells me. “I know,” I say and then place the first of many kisses on her lips. We make it inside her place when I realize I forgot the jar in my truck, so I tell Rylee to hold on a second and run out to get it for her. When I return, she is in the kitchen, putting her flowers in a vase. I sneak up behind her and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into me. “Rylee, I want to apologize for last night. I was an idiot. I don’t know why I didn’t ask you to stay. I really should have. I’m so very sorry.” And with that, I hand her the jar.
“What is this?” she asks.

  “Let’s just call it the Braedyn-is-an-ass jar.” She laughs at my comment. “I put all my thoughts about you on little pieces of paper and placed them in this jar.” I can see that she is blushing now. “I’d like to say that if ever there is a day when I am an ass again—and I’m sure there will be—you can grab the jar and pull out a note, and you’ll know just how special you are to me. Then hopefully you will be able to forgive me for whatever I have done.”

  Rylee laughs and pulls me tight against her. As I press my body into hers, I grind my hard cock against her stomach, knowing she will love knowing how much I want her. She moans in my mouth as her tongue caresses mine. “Please,” is the last thing I hear coming out of her mouth.

  I reach down and pull her tank over her head, baring her breasts to me. I lower my head and begin to lick and suck on her nipple. I can feel the shudder run through her. My hand reaches up to caress her other breast and caress the nipple with my fingers. She cries out in pain and pleasure as I keep sucking her other nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. I don’t think I can get any harder, but I am wrong. With each shiver she makes and every little moan that comes from her, my cock twitches in my jeans. I feel her reach down and unzip my pants, then she reaches in with one hand and pulls out my hard cock. It throbs in her hand and little drops of pre-cum form at the tip. Within moments, she drops to her knees in front of me, and I feel her warm tongue lick the underside of my shaft and then swirl around the head. My knees are shaking from the amazing feel of her mouth on me. “STOP!” I shout at her. “I don’t want to come in your mouth, and if you keep going, that’s what will happen.”

  I came to her house to make her feel better, not the other way around, and if I come in her mouth, I will feel guilty, so I reach down and pull her into my arms, carry her to the couch, and lay her down. I lower myself on top of her, kissing her lips tenderly at first, but then tenderness gives in to a savage harshness that has our teeth and tongues clashing. By the time I pull away, I am ready to burst just from that kiss. I can barely breathe, my heart is beating so fast. My hands are caressing her face, my thumbs rubbing her cheekbones, while my eyes connect with hers. I hope she can see in my eyes all the words I can’t vocalize just yet. I want her to know she is special to me and that being with her means more to me than she can imagine.

  “I want to take you to dinner tonight. Anywhere you want to go. And then I want you to come home with me and stay the night.” I think she is shocked to hear those words, but they are true. I place a chaste kiss on her lips and continue, “I have to be at work in the morning, so it will be an early night, but I want yours to be the first face I see when my eyes open.” A smile crosses her face, and with a nod of her head, my heart finally settles down.

  ***

  Rylee and I find a compromise that works for both of us. On days I’m not working, we stay the night together. More often, I stay the night at her house than her staying at mine. On days I do work, she stays at her place, and we talk to each other at least once a day. It works for us, a balance of being in a relationship but also feeling the freedom of being single. I can handle this, but I’m not sure for how long she will. When will enough be enough for her before she wants more than I can give?

  We have been together for several months now and things are going quite smoothly. I think it’s time to introduce our friends to our relationship. They all know we’ve been dating, but we haven’t actually spent time together with them as a couple, so tonight we are going to Scott’s for dinner.

  “Brae, I’m a little nervous about meeting your friends. What if they don’t like me?” I can hear the panic in her voice

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart, they will adore you. What’s not to like?” I laugh, and she hits me. What the hell?

  When I introduce Rylee to Jeanette and Scott, I think Jeanette is going to piss herself. The girls hit it off immediately. Scott and I can’t get a word in edgewise throughout dinner. I knew she would fit in perfectly.

  When Ry goes to use the washroom, both Jeanette and Scott swoop in on me. “B, she’s perfect for you. I never though you would find another woman that fit you so well. But I have to say this one keeps you on your toes. There is an innocence about her, so I now see what drew you to her.” Scott says, “She has the same kindness Brooklynn had.” When he realizes what he just said, he immediately apologizes. “I’m sorry, bro, I didn’t mean to bring up Brooklynn. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No worries, Scott, you’re right. Her heart is as big as Brooklynn’s, but what I’m feeling for her is so different. I don’t know how to explain it though,” I tell him. “Thing is, I’m still struggling with her staying at my place, and I’m not quite sure why. I stay at her home without any problems.”

  I can see the wheels turning in Scott’s head before he speaks. “Do you think it has to do with making the commitment? I mean, it’s like playing house if she stays with you, where as if you stay with her, you know deep down that if you want to leave, all you have to do is get up and go.”

  “When did you become doctor Phil?” I ask. “I’d never do that to her, get up and leave just because I can. But having her at my house and letting her stay over screams the word COMMITMENT, which is something I’m not ready to admit to, and I know it hurts her.”

  “B, when and if that time ever comes, you’ll know. Don’t go rushing into something, because in the end, if you aren’t one hundred percent committed to long term, you’ll hurt her more; and I’d hate to have to kick your ass for hurting that girl.” He laughs and tips his beer to me.

  Over the next month, we talk a lot about her previous relationship with her ex and how relieved she is that he is behind bars and can’t harm her anymore. I learn that he not only verbally but physically abused her, which makes me sick to my stomach. If he weren't behind bars, I’d probably be, because I would have hunted him down and beaten the shit out of him. Just the thought of her with a split lip or a black eye sends my blood boiling, which apparently was not out of the norm for her in her past.

  When I finally get to meet Bailey and Chris, it becomes very clear how tight she and Bailey are. Bailey is more like a sister to her than a best friend, and by extension of Bailey, Chris became like a brother. There isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for her. Through talking with them, I learn that neither truly knew the extent of the relationship she had with Colt. Neither of them would have condoned what was happening. However, my girl never likes to put her problems on someone else’s plate; she would rather die trying to handle them herself than involve someone else. Well, that stops now, with me. I’ll gladly take on any hurdle she has in her life and make it my own.

  I guess in some ways I am similar to her. I haven’t shared too much about my past with her, and it’s not because she didn’t ask; it’s because I avoid it like the plague. But I know I have to tell her about me, and I promised I would tonight. I avoided talking about it, because I don’t like reliving that shit; and honestly, I’m not sure how I truly feel about it. It was a dark time in my life that feels unsettled, and I buried it so I don’t have to deal with it.

  I went through the past three years believing I lost my soul mate when in reality, I had no idea I hadn’t found her until now. What I felt for Brooklynn wasn’t love to the depths of my soul; it was just a young man’s first love. It wasn’t until I found Rylee that I realized that my soul hadn’t been living. Rylee has reawakened my heart to the possibility of a future.

  She is the reason I get up every morning and the reason I want to be a better man. I can’t imagine a life without her, without her love, without her acceptance of who I am and not who I was. Without her by my side, I am half a man. Realizing this makes me know that I have to be honest with her tonight and lay it out on the table. I am damn scared of my feelings, but I need to man up and admit them. She is my soul mate. I know it as sure as I know snow is white and Santa wears red.

  I have a plan for tonight. I’m making her dinn
er; and if all goes well, I’m going to let the walls crumble that hold in all my insecurities and let her in to heal my soul. I’m going to take that step, and if it goes the way I hope it will, she’ll wake up in my arms tomorrow morning in my bed, in my house and my life permanently. It’s time to stop being a pussy and be the man I know I can be.

  Dinner is in the oven. I set the table, and my surprise is all boxed up and waiting to for her to open it. I make my way to my bathroom, turn on the hot water, and jump in the shower. I let the water run down my shoulders to relax the tension that has built up. I am nervous about tonight. I don’t know how she will react to my confession of having been married before. I don’t know why I’m so worried. She knows what a manwhore I was, which didn’t scare her away, but being a dick to women is completely different than having been married previously.

  I remember the night I fessed up that I didn’t do relationships and never slept with the same girl twice until her. I saw the disgust in her eyes at first and then the hurt that followed, which ended with her leaving my house and me not hearing from her for a week. I thought that was it for us, that I’d never hear from her again, and though it sucked and I was disappointed, I would learn to live with it. Thank God, she just needed time to think through what she had learned.

  Since then, I was nothing but honest with her, which has required me to sidestep conversations about my past. The water is starting to cool now, so I rush through the rest of my shower and get out, dry off, and dress. It’s 7seven o’clock when she arrives at the house and we sit down to eat. By the time we finish our dinner and empty a bottle of wine, I’m feeling relaxed about the rest of the evening. My earlier tension subsides when I take her hand and guide her to the patio. It’s a nice evening out, so we sit on the bench and relax for a few moments.