Counting On You

by J. C. Reed

  “I can assure you that I understand what I’m getting into, and my answer’s still yes, I want to.”

  “One week.” I lean into her, my lips grazing hers in one final kiss, and then I open the door. “Think it over. If you still want it by next week, then we’ll take the next step.”

  One week.

  Plenty of time for her to think about it. Plenty of time for her to really want me or push me away forever.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Vicky

  “I can’t help but notice that you like someone.”

  “What?” My head snaps to Sylvie who’s sitting in front of me, her blue eyes scrutinizing.

  “Look at the ten o’clock hottie. That’s who I’m talking about.” She gives me a gentle nudge and I turn my head to follow her line of vision. The cantina’s overcrowded today—it might even be the busiest I’ve ever seen it. Something about a new chef arriving has everyone curious. Nothing exciting ever happens so someone’s arrival is the attraction of the week.

  “Great,” I mumble and am about to turn my attention back to my plate when I see someone standing in line, filling his plate.

  It’s a newcomer to the cantina.

  Kade.

  I don’t know when he ever eats, but apparently not at the same times as I do.

  His back is turned to me, but I’d recognize his broad shoulders anywhere. Wearing a black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looks even sexier than on the day we first met.

  A burning flame erupts in my abdomen and settles between my legs, gathering in a delicious pull that reminds me of what we’ve done in that closet.

  It’s only been a few days, but the memory’s still fresh. I can still feel his lips on mine; I can still feel his fingers inside me and his tongue between my legs, doing unspeakably sexy things to me. No man has ever made me feel so wanted. Even though we’ve overstepped the threshold of friendship and entered friends with benefits territory, nothing has really changed between us.

  We still talk about everything. Except about the closet event.

  And Bruce.

  He hardly ever enters my thoughts now, but there are still times when I feel hurt.

  Only Kade can make me feel better. Watching him now, I’m reminded just how much I look forward to our evenings together.

  “That someone,” Sylvie whispers. “I have this kind of sixth sense about romantic relationships and their outcome—unfortunately, I suck at predicting mine.”

  I turn back to her, hoping that the heat covering my face isn’t a major blush.

  “I don’t like him.” I put on a fake smile. “I mean, not the way you think. It’s just…” How do I explain to her that Kade and I have spent a lot of time—a lot of nights—together and we’ve become really close? “…we went out.”

  “He took you out for a date?” Sylvie asks, aghast.

  “It wasn’t a date, per se. It was only clubbing and I didn’t even spend time with him. I sort of looked up with Bruce and then got drunk.”

  Which is only half the truth.

  “Oh, my God, Vicky. Why would you take such a risk?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I needed the change in scenery. I mean, look around you. Who can stay sane in this place?” I squeeze her hand, suddenly worried that I’ve just made a mistake by telling her. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  “Are you serious? I’m not a snitch.” She leans across the table and whispers conspiratorially, “Was it worth it?”

  Was it worth it?

  “Only time will tell.” I take a sip of my coffee, remembering the time I saw Bruce with his ex, and the feeling of disappointment returns. I thought he’d wait for me, but the bitter truth is piercing and harsh.

  He moved on within days.

  It’s not helping that my therapist says things I can’t even talk about. The statement she makes rings true and the seed of doubt has begun to grow, no matter how much I try to bury it.

  Lately, I’ve been having thoughts like, ‘He used me,’ and ‘He’s never really been in love with me.’

  It hurts like hell.

  “Think your roommate wants to fuck you considering he’s, you know?” Sylvie says.

  I roll my eyes. “Of course, he would. He’d fuck anything that walks on two legs, but he hasn’t offered yet.”

  “He hasn’t tried to touch you yet?”

  “Not even a peck on the cheek.” I shake my head a little too vehemently in the hope that Sylvie will buy my bluff. “He’s like a big brother.”

  “You don’t date your brother.”

  “I told you. It wasn’t a date, per se.” Pausing, I sit back and think back to the night he slept on the floor. “He’s a decent guy.”

  Sylvie lets out a laugh. “I wouldn’t call someone who runs around naked decent, and particularly not when he doesn’t care who sees him.”

  “Well, he is. He hasn’t done it again.” Which is a shame, really. I wouldn’t mind seeing Kade naked a second time

  She cocks her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. I look down quickly, realizing that maybe I shouldn’t have defended him.

  “Why do I have the feeling something happened between you two?” Sylvie asks.

  I stare at her, unsure what to do.

  She couldn’t be more spot on, but if I deny it, she might not believe me. If I don’t deny it, she might take it as a confirmation that she’s right.

  Basically, whatever I do, I’m in trouble.

  Sylvie’s expression reflects that she’s growing more suspicious by the second.

  I have to find a way to act like nothing happened.

  Except, I can’t. The whole situation is too ridiculous. Too complicated.

  I feel embarrassed to even think that I was the one who did the chasing.

  “You want to,” Sylvie says matter-of-factly.

  I bite on my lip, afraid to say the wrong thing. The right thing. Anything at all.

  As if sensing my dilemma, Sylvie leans forward. My whole body tenses, and I brace myself for whatever discovery she might make next.

  “Why don’t you hook up with him?”

  I stare at her, taking in her grin. “He’s my roommate.”

  “And?”

  “It’s against the rules.”

  “Everyone’s breaking at least one rule around here. You wouldn’t be the first.”

  Is she joking? I can’t tell.

  “Are you saying you’re…” My heart beats faster when she nods her head.

  “It’s a lonely place.”

  “Oh, my God. You scared me. I really thought you were going to tell someone.”

  She laughs at my expression. “Please don’t tell me you didn’t see it coming. You’ve been here for two weeks and haven’t noticed that some people seem to be a little too friendly? I’m going to let you take a wild guess what’s going on behind closed bedroom doors.” She winks, her tone changing and dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Whatever they tried to achieve by pairing us up was a flop. Half of the love addicts are already sleeping with the sex addicts.” She cocks her head. “But even if they find out, I doubt they’d rethink the program. Too much money has gone into it. At best, they’ll declare us cured. At worst, they’ll impose new rules, maybe even watch us twenty-four seven.”

  “You think so?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugs. “So what about him? Is he up for it?”

  “Who? Kade?” I look over my shoulder, fearing that he might hear me speaking his name.

  To my relief, I see him sitting at another table, engrossed in a conversation with a guy I don’t know. His glance finds me, and our gazes meet.

  And then he winks.

  My stomach flips a little.

  I turn my attention back to Sylvie. “No, he doesn’t want to fuck me. He’s absolutely not interested.”

  “Hmm.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “He asks you out but doesn’t want to sleep with you?”

  “Yes. That’s about right.” I purse my li
ps, ready to tell her what happened between us when a short ringing sound echoes through the hall.

  “Is this a drill or something?” I stand up, watching everyone else push up to their feet and rush out the door.

  “No.” Sylvie slings her handbag over her shoulder. “It’s visitation day.”

  I was so busy I had completely forgotten.

  “Catch up later?” She leans into me and whispers, “He’s checking you out.”

  Only after she’s headed for the door do I dare to look.

  Kade, standing near the table, holding a note pad in his hand, which he holds up as soon as he notices me looking. On it, he’s written:

  * * *

  Do. Or do not. There is no try.

  * * *

  I grab my bag and head for him, smiling. “The Empire Strikes Back, right?”

  “You know your movies.” He leans into me to place a soft kiss on my cheek.

  “What does it mean?”

  “It’s a mental note to remind you to return to the present moment by letting go of attachments, such as fear and limitations. By eliminating the word try, you have the choice whether to actively do something or not. You have the power to see it through. You’re acknowledging that every act is sacred and you do what needs to be done while facing an obstacle.”

  My lips twitch at his implication. “And visitation time is an obstacle?”

  “If whoever’s visiting you stops you from completing something, it is,” Kade says.

  I laugh. “Thanks, Yoda. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He lifts his hand, offering it to me. “Shall we?”

  I interlink my fingers with his. “Only if you stop the The Empire Strikes Back quotes.”

  “Not a fan, are you?”

  “Can’t say I am.”

  “Me neither,” Kade says, laughing. “I just have a very good memory for quotes.”

  We follow the crowd into an adjacent building. The scent of grilled chicken reaches me long before we step into the hall that’s been rearranged to accommodate the large number of visitors.

  “I thought everything was closed for a mile down.” I let go of Kade’s hand and turn to him. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

  “We even get ice cream.” He points to a stand with a guy dressed in white, offering ice cream to whoever passes by. “I think they’re trying to pretend this isn’t like prison at all.”

  “Yeah. Treat us to candies when we have guests, and let the real torture begin tomorrow.” I scan the room, not expecting to see anyone familiar because, to be honest, none of my friends know I’m here. That’s when I see my sister. “I shouldn’t be here,” I mutter.

  “Why?” Kade asks.

  “Because I didn’t go to group therapy until a few days ago and I feel like I’m not making much progress.” My gaze remains glued to her. She’s talking to someone and nods sympathetically.

  “If it helps,” Kade says, leaning into me, “I’m a work in progress, too.”

  I can’t help but smile. “You’re a goof, you know?”

  “Life’s already serious like shit.” He follows my line of vision. “I have another good one.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you don’t feel it, fake it,” he says.

  “Is that your new philosophy?”

  “No, that’s my survival strategy.” He flashes me a grin. “I’m just roaring with the crowd. Doesn’t mean I mean what I say.”

  “I thought you wanted to get help here?”

  “How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”

  I should claim that I was taking a guess. That I don’t really care. But I do care. I want him to get help. “You know, I’ve been wondering, how the hell could you be so successful in your job with all the sex pop-ups and the dates and the meaningless sex?”

  Probably a lot of that.

  “What can I say? I’m a juggler.”

  His fingers settle beneath my chin and before I know it, his lips are on mine.

  His mouth is both tender and wild—the kiss too short.

  “It’s all for a higher purpose,” he says, taking a step back.

  I stare at him, aghast. “You didn’t just do that in public.”

  He laughs. “What can I say? I’m a rebel.”

  “You’re not a rebel. You’re insane. What if someone saw us?” My gaze sweeps across the room.

  No one’s looking.

  They’re all focused on their conversation.

  “What could anyone possibly do to us?” Kade asks, drawing my attention back to him.

  “How about serve us some jail time?” I say.

  This shuts him up…for all of three seconds.

  When I look up at him and see his lips twitching, I know he’s about to say something stupid. “You’d look hot in orange.”

  I roll my eyes playfully. “Wow, first a nun, then an inmate. You really have the strangest fantasies.”

  “I don’t judge a book by its cover, and you shouldn’t either. You should give me another try.” His eyes twinkle with something. “Remember when I did that little flip with my fingers that curled your toes and you said—”

  I clap my hand over his mouth.

  Out of all the moments he could have chosen to mention our little oral sesh, he had to choose this one. “Please stop talking.”

  “You sure…”

  “Hush.” I press my finger to my lips and turn my back to him. “My sister’s coming over.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Vicky

  “So, this is where you’re staying.” My sister drops her handbag on my bed, her frown displaying her displeasure. Dressed in her business suit, with her hair styled into a bun, she looks as though she’s here to make an investment rather than visit her sister.

  “Where’s Mom?” I ask.

  “She’s not coming.”

  My mood reaches a new low. “She is still upset, isn’t she?”

  Grace doesn’t reply as she sits down on my bed and crosses her legs. She runs her hand through her hair and shifts uncomfortably—the only two signs that this is a topic she’d rather not talk about.

  She’s strangely quiet today. Too quiet. Something’s up.

  “Aren’t you going to answer the question?” I ask. “Mom promised she’d visit. She’d never break her word. So, where is she?”

  “She can’t see you suffering,” Grace replies flatly. “She can’t see you even more hurt.”

  I laugh. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m here to get help. That’s why we have therapists and professionals available round the clock. The only bug I could possibly catch in here is from eating too much junk food. Or I could get pregnant.” I catch her frown. “I’m kidding.”

  I expect Grace to laugh. But she doesn’t. She looks guilty as hell, and that’s not something I’d ever expect from my sister. My mom and I have always been close. That she doesn’t want to visit hurts.

  “Grace, you make me feel like I’m some kind of criminal. Is Mom ashamed of me?” The realization hits me hard.

  “No.”

  “Then, what’s going on?” I sit down next to her, my heart racing as I mentally go through all the possible reasons why Mom couldn’t or wouldn’t want to see me. “Is it Will? Did something happen?”

  “Will’s okay. Don’t worry about him.” She takes a deep breath. Then another. Then yet another, still not talking.

  “You’re making me nervous. God, Grace. You act like someone just died.”

  “Sorry.” She grabs her bag, and I realize her hands are shaking. “I’m not even sure I should be giving you this. Mom told me not to. That she wouldn’t come if I did, but…” She pulls out a letter. “It’s from Bruce. She actually pleaded with me, but I really think you should know.”

  Her gaze pierces into me, her eyes imploring, apologizing, stubborn.

  “Know what?” I mumble?

  “I should give you some privacy while you read this.” She grabs her handbag.

  I take the
letter from her outstretched hand. “What is this? Jesus, Grace. What’s going on? Why’s Mom not here?”

  “He’s getting married, Vicky,” Grace says slowly.

  “Who?” Her words make no sense to me. Who’s ‘he’ and what does he have to do with Mom’s decision not to turn up?

  “Bruce.” Her tone is soft, almost a whisper. “We heard it from friends who were invited to the engagement party.”

  “What engagement party?” My brain fails to register the meaning of her words. Everything’s racing: my heart, my mind. Even the ground beneath my feet seems to want to slip away. Inside me, I can feel a rift forming that threatens to rip me apart. Pictures begin to flash before my eyes. Bruce and Nat at the beach, clinking champagne flutes, cuddling with the sun setting in the background.

  All so beautiful and romantic.

  The big rock on her finger makes so much more sense now. I initially thought she had purchased it from an accessory shop because it looked so huge and fake.

  I should have known the diamond ring was real.

  “Bruce is getting married this summer.” Grace’s voice draws me back. “I just thought you should know.”

  I peer at her, taking in her expression. The concern is etched in her features, the tiny lines around her eyes.

  “Get out.” I choke on the words, so I try again. “Get out of my room.”

  For a few seconds, she just stares at me, unmoving.

  “Grace.” My tone is a warning. I need to be alone. I need her gone. She seems to realize this because she nods her head.

  “I’m going to wait outside in case you need me.”

  I wait until she’s closed the door behind her before I tear open the letter. Everything’s shaking as I read it.

  * * *

  Dear Vicky,

  * * *

  This is my fifth letter and I still don’t know how to say it. In the end, I’ve decided that being short and direct is the best way to go about this.

  I’m going to marry Nat.

  She isn’t my first love, but she’s the right choice. Marrying her is the right thing to do. My family demands it, and I’m going to honor their wishes.