by J. Saman
I feel stupid really. Unlike myself. Detached, almost.
And I can’t place why.
It’s funny, after the first time Kyle said he loved me, I started to think about getting tested. I mean, I figured if his affection wasn’t all that strong, then why do that to myself? But the moment he threw the word love out, things started to shift. Then I had the what-ifs and the maybes running through my head on perpetual repeat. But it still took me nearly getting killed, and a lot of failed attempts, for me to pull the trigger. Pun intended.
But now? Now, I just feel . . . wrecked.
The overabundance of excitement and joy I was rocking at Ryan’s has morphed into something else, and it in no way resembles anything good.
Fear? Yeah, that’s what this is.
Because on the one hand, I feel like I have a fresh start. An actual life I can go out and live knowing that my actions have consequences. Most people seek out the opposite, feeling too restricted by the demands of their existence. But I’ve never lived within that realm.
Sure, I went to work and paid my bills, but I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, with whomever I wanted, regardless of the outcome. I simply didn’t care enough.
No regrets.
That was sort of my slogan, but now, I’m filled with them.
And they all revolve around one person. Kyle.
Deep down, I know I’m too late. Yes, he says he loves me, but to what end? How many times can I push him away until he says enough? Three? Yeah, I think that’s what we’re up to now. After the last time, before tonight of course, he didn’t speak to me much. In fact, until the attack, he had little to do with me for over a month.
I pulled him out of a date that was making me crazy with jealousy and then when he tried to kiss me, again, I ruined it. Like I ruin everything. And everyone.
The sad part is, I wouldn’t blame him if he said no.
The city streets are thickly lined with people going out to dinner and drinks and doing their shopping. Families. Husbands and wives. Couples. I feel so disconnected from all of it. Yes, I have Ryan, but he has Kate. And Luke has Ivy. And they’re expecting a baby and planning a wedding.
Who do I have?
Never once has any of my friends asked me why I am the way I am. Not once has anyone said, hey Claire, why do you sleep around the way you do. Why do you live your life like you’re running from something? Like you’re being chased? If they ever had, I would have looked them in the eye and said, because I am. It’s really was that simple and that complicated for me.
But you know what, that’s just life.
I don’t expect pity because things haven’t always been a bed of roses for me. Because my life wasn’t constructed the way I had envisioned it to be when I was six. I mean, hell, most people generally accept that shit happens and that life can be a real motherfucker.
Look at Kate. That girl lost both her child and husband in a car accident. Kate. I mean, can a person be any nicer, sweeter or more understanding? No. Luke? Hell, I can’t even go there. I know very little about his past, but what I do know, is dark and scary and messed up. His present isn’t much better, though he’s changed a lot of it for Ivy.
Ryan? His parents are a mess. Apathetic, alcoholics that don’t want help. I guess that one goes for Kyle too. When I met Ryan, he was dating this total bitch, Francesca and he had just been betrayed by his cousin, Tristan. Both were after him for his money. Tristian’s stupid ass got busted for whatever crooked crap he was into. Francesca decided that the guy Ryan was working with would come out ahead, and he would be her ticket to easy money. She fucked around on Ryan and left him with a broken heart. And Tristian left him with even more crazy trust issues.
Ivy . . . Ivy has it pretty good. Sure, Luke hurt her, and she had a nightmare of an ex, but Luke loves the hell out of her and they’re really happy now. And her family is freaking awesome.
I don’t begrudge anyone happiness. That shit is precious and should never be taken for granted.
Am I jealous? Yeah, maybe a little. Or a lot.
More so now than before.
I had reached the acceptance stage of the game with my life.
Sure, I had moments of what-if, but they were generally useless and short-lived. I tried not to wallow in the pity of my never-will-haves. And I had a lot of those.
But now? Now everything has changed. And all I’m coming up with is longing.
Longing stems from loss.
Did I lose him? God, I hope not.
I quicken my pace, ignoring the beauty of the shops with their decorated windows and twinkling lights, until I’m practically at a run. And just as I round the corner, I spot Kyle standing in front of his building.
His back is to me, but I’d know him anywhere.
I can feel a smile light up my face as my stomach swarms with butterflies. “Kyle?” I call out as I get closer. He turns, his brows furrowed, wondering who this crazed lady is that’s yelling out his name. “I was just coming home to find you. I need to tell you—” and then I stop short, practically falling forward with the sudden change in momentum. Standing next to Kyle is a woman I’ve never seen before.
She has long, dark red hair—darker than mine—with bright green eyes that are so piercing, I find myself actually blinking as I look at them. She’s petite, dressed in a long black puffy coat, skinny jeans and black Doc Martin boots. She’s stunning and I want to die.
“Claire?” Kyle says, a bit taken back, before glancing in the other redhead’s direction. She shifts her feet, looking up at Kyle expectantly. “I didn’t think you were coming back,” he says slowly, carefully, and I want the ground to swallow me up whole. I can feel heat crawling up my cheeks and I hate that obvious tell.
“I, uh . . .” I trail off, totally at a loss for words. I’m too late. It’s over.
“Kyle?” the other woman says cautiously and he turns to her with a small smile. She widens her eyes at him.
“Oh, right. Um. Abby, this is Claire Sullivan. My roommate.” Roommate? Not friend. Not the woman I’m in love with. Roommate. That’s all I am to him now. And it’s the last thing in the world I want to be. Kyle looks back at me, his expression betraying his discomfort at this situation. “Claire, this is Abby Scofield. She and I . . . grew up together.”
Abby Scofield. I know that name. Why do I know that name? Holy kittens and marshmallows, this is his Abby. The high school girlfriend that he loved. The girl who broke his heart.
“Hi,” I manage, through the lump in my throat. “It’s really nice to meet you.” It’s not. I mean, she looks nice enough, but I sort of hate her a lot right now.
Abby smiles and it makes her already beautiful face even more stunning.
“It’s nice to meet you, too.” She reaches out and I shake her hand. It’s so forced and awkward and I don’t belong here with them.
“Abby is in town for a conference. She and I were just going to grab some dinner,” Kyle says. His voice has an undercurrent of something I can’t quite place. “You don’t want to come with us, do you?”
Wow, could that have been anymore loaded?
“No.” I laugh, because if I don’t I’ll cry. “Have fun.”
Kyle looks relieved and Abby just looks a little confused. I throw them a wave and run for the door to Kyle’s building. I can’t even say anything else to her or to him.
I wave off the doorman because he’s a chatty bugger, and as the elevator ascends, I drop into a squat, leaning my back and head against the wall of the elevator. “Well, that sucked,” I say aloud to myself.
And then there’s that stupid voice inside my head that answers me with, what did you expect? Yeah, she’s right. Bitch. The elevator doors open and I immediately jump up and walk into the apartment.
It smells like Kyle.
I need to get the hell out of here. I don’t want to live here anymore. Not like this. Not where I’m only his roommate.
I bang a right and head straight for my room. The guest
room, I should say, since it will no longer be mine once I’m packed. Thank God, I didn’t give up my place. That would have been epically stupid.
Heading straight for the closet, I reach up on my tippy toes and grasp the handle of my suitcase. I give it a good pull, jumping back out of the way as it crashes to the floor with a loud bang. Tossing open the top, I set to work on filling it with my clothes. I don’t even care if they’re folded or not. I just want to get out of here as fast as humanly possible.
Once it’s full, I grab my other small red duffel and head into the bathroom.
In under five minutes, everything of mine in this apartment is packed up.
I hit the button for the freight elevator instead of the main one. My car is parked closer to it in the garage. I step inside, hit the round button with the big letter G on it, and watch as the doors slowly close, my heart breaking more with each inch until it’s shut completely and I lose all control.
He didn’t come for me.
Chapter 34
Kyle
The elevator doors slide open and I practically pry them the rest of the way before I’m pushing my way through and into my apartment. “Claire?” I call out, running into the great room. Empty. I turn right and sprint down the hall to her room, calling out her name as I go.
No answer.
Her room is dark, and the moment I flip on the switch, I know she’s gone. Her glasses aren’t on her nightstand. Her perfume and the scattered jewelry she normally has on top of the dresser are gone. I tear open the doors of her closet and it’s completely empty.
“Goddamn it!” I yell, running my hands through my hair and spinning around, searching for answers. Home. She must have gone back to her apartment. God, I’m such a fucking idiot! How did I miss her? I couldn’t have been out there talking to Abby for longer than a couple more minutes. Just long enough for me to explain that I needed to go get Claire.
Just how the hell did I miss her?
Unless she took the freight elevator.
Maybe I can still catch her before she leaves. I run over to the freight elevator and slam my fist into the call button. It’s taking an interminable amount of time to get here, so I run down the hall and press the button for the regular elevator. I’ll take whichever comes first.
The main elevator dings and the doors slide open and I’m inside that thing, hitting the button for the garage before the doors were even fully opened.
“Come on!” I demand, pacing the small box as we descend far too slow for my liking. Finally, after what feels like hours, I reach the garage and sprint down to the other end, looking for her car. Gone. “Shit!”
I reach into my pocket, my fingers fumbling as I grab hold of my keys and click the button to unlock it. I jump into the driver side, hit the button to start the car and tear out of the garage as fast I can. Claire lives three blocks from me, but it’s a Friday night in the city and parking near her building can be real shit sometimes. I would have been better served running over there.
“Shit,” I yell again, slamming my palm on the steering wheel, realizing my mistake. But it’s too late now, so I weave in and out of traffic and somehow manage to find a spot a half a block from her place. I’m locking it up and running down to her building, ignoring the glares and complaints of the people I brush past.
Will our timing ever work out? It feels like it never does.
I open the first door that leads her building and before I even press the button for her apartment, I try the second door. It opens, which tells me that the fucking lock is still broken. Which tells me that she’s vulnerable. The idea of Claire being attacked again is enough to have me racing for the elevator, my fists clench like a madman.
There is no way I’m leaving here tonight without her.
I hit her floor and before I can even think about it, I’m banging on her door. I sound desperate. Maybe I am, but I’d rather not tip her off to that so I school my features and my temper real quick.
Thirty seconds later, the door swings open and she’s standing there in front of me. I don’t even know if she checked to see who I was before she opened. I don’t care.
“Claire, I—fuck it.” Without warning, I yank her into my arms, clutching her to my chest and holding her so tightly against me, I wonder if she can breathe. I nearly died twice from leukemia. I’ve had scares when I thought it was back. I’ve been overtly threatened by the mob. I was shot at. But nothing in my life has scared me the way the woman in my arms does. She holds a power over me like no other. She leaves me bare, vulnerable—utterly exposed.
And I’m okay with all of that. As long as she’s mine.
“Hi,” she says quietly.
“Hi,” I respond, pulling back and cupping her face. “You moved out.” It’s not a question, but she nods her head in my hands all the same. “Why?”
Her eyes pierce mine. “What are you doing here, Kyle?”
“I’ve come to bring you back.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t live with you like that anymore.”
I smile, skimming my fingers across her face and through her hair. “Good. Because I can’t, either.”
“You can’t still want me,” she whispers. “I’ve been horrible to you. More than once.”
“How do you not know?”
She blinks at me.
“How do you not know that I would crawl to hell and back if it meant I could have you?” Now she blinks back the tears that fill her eyes.
“But that girl. The other redhead. Abby.”
I laugh, because I suddenly get it. “Yes, Abby is a redhead. Is that why you think I want you?”
A shrug.
I shake my head. “If your hair was blonde or green or brown or orange, I wouldn’t care. Abby is Abby and she is in the past. She’s married and happy and I’m happy for her. Even if she wasn’t married, it wouldn’t matter. I don’t want her,” I say looking deep into her cerulean eyes so there is no confusion, no second-guessing. I lean down and press my lips to hers. “I want you,” I whisper against her. “I love you.”
“I’m a mess,” she says and I can’t help but laugh.
“Yeah, you sort of are. And we have a lot to talk about and work through, but I’m done letting you push me away.”
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I think I’m done with that too.” She smiles up at me. “I want to be with you, Kyle. I want to go to sleep with you every night and wake up with you every morning.” Her eyes sparkle in a way I’ve never seen them before. They’re bright. Alive. On fire. “I think you’re my forever guy.”
I don’t give her the chance to say anything else. I just dip my head down and kiss her, because it feels like I can. But also, because she says she wants to be mine. Forever. And that’s an amazing feeling.
“But, Kyle,” she says pulling back from me, “I have a lot to tell you. And there are things you need to know because they impact your future.”
“Okay, Doc Brown,” I say and she starts to laugh. “We’ll talk about everything.”
“Is it weird that I might love you more for throwing in a Back to The Future reference right now?”
“More?” I smile, raising my eyebrows at her. She’s never said she loves me out loud before.
“Yeah,” she says, grabbing my shirt and yanking me inside her apartment. She shuts the door behind me and then jumps up into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as her arms encircle my neck.
“More,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine. “Because I love the hell out of you, Kyle Grant.”
And then she kisses me. And I kiss her back. Good. Long. And hard. I want to stain her mouth with mine. Imprint myself inside of her.
I rip her shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor as I walk us through her apartment, into her bedroom before I lay her on her bed. What I really wanted to do was slam her up against a wall and fuck her blind. But this is not the moment for that. You don’t do that when you’re in the mi
dst of professing love. You don’t do that when you need to make the moment count.
Reaching behind my head to the collar of my shirt, I yank it over my head. Her eyes feast on me. My mouth lowers to hers again as I allow the weight of my body to drop, pressing her deeper into the bed.
“Tell me again,” I whisper against her lips.
“I love you,” she says quietly, but with a smile.
“No more bullshit,” I say and she nods.
“Promise. Now can you please shut up and get me naked? The suspense is killing me.”
I laugh, but do exactly as she demands. I strip her down piece by piece. But I take my time doing it. I want to savor this moment. Remember everything about it. When she’s completely bare before me, I strip myself down too and just stare at her. She stares back and we both get it.
No more secrets. Sure, we have a million things to talk about and figure out. A million things that could still cause us issues and have us fighting. But none of that matters, because we’ll get through it. Together. She’s not leaving me in the morning.
The time for holding back is done.
We kiss, and touch, and caress, and in the next moment, I’m inside of her with nothing between us. No more barriers. We move together, her nails scratching down my back, making me wild. I tell her things. Every goddamn sweet and dirty thought that enters my mind comes out my mouth. She loves it. Begs me for more until we both explode together.
Nothing has ever been this good.
I wrap her in my arms and hold her close to my chest, my fingers gliding down her slightly damp hair. I kiss her deeply, breathing her in. Claire holds me back just as tight. She kisses me, eliminating any last shred of doubt or insecurity with each pass of her lips.
Claire pulls back fractionally, just enough to look into my eyes as our foreheads and noses touch.
And then she tells me everything.
She explains her mother’s diagnosis and subsequent suicide. About how her father is out to control her life. How she doesn’t actually have Huntington’s Disease, but that chance is what has paralyzed her all these years. It’s why she pushed me away time and again.