Shadow Heart (Broken Bottle Series Book 1)

by Taeuffer, Pam

  “You don’t have to let a special someone interfere with your plans. Fussing down there.” Alex giggled. “You’re funny. A relationship can complement your life, silly. Boys are happy things and so much fun to play with; I just love them.”

  “Well . . .” I began laughing and had trouble stopping. “God, Alex, fun to play with. It seems when my friends get a boyfriend they have no time for anyone else. Then their grades slip, they get in trouble sneaking out or staying out late; of course there’s . . .”

  “Sex!” Alex shouted. “Sex, sex, and guess what, more sex.”

  “Right.” I couldn’t stop laughing because of how expressive she was. “And when they break up, what was previously a good friendship is gone. I don’t want to take that chance.”

  “Yeah, but you’re smarter than that. I know you wouldn’t let a friendship bite the dust. Besides, you can’t control your life. Love will find you, Nick.”

  “You're right, I’m probably kidding myself,” I agreed. “But I don’t feel ready for boys.”

  “Well, I guess you know what you’re doing.”

  “I’d like to think so, but most of the time I wing it.” I grabbed the remote.

  “Let’s watch a romantic movie,” Alex suggested.

  “Ooh! I love romance.” I began looking through the movies offered on order.

  “You love romance and you don’t have a boyfriend?" She waved her hand in the air. "You’re a weirdo.”

  “I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  We tucked ourselves under her fluffy covers. When she turned off the light, I started Dr. Zhivago and later, we fell asleep.

  When the month of May came, I was too busy to go to anymore photo shoots with Alex, or volunteer with Tara.

  I turned eighteen and prom, finals, and high school graduation were all right around the corner.

  It was just one day after my birthday that Ryan Tilton came back into my life.

  I’d never be the same.

  Chapter 15

  A New Season

  On the Friday just after my eighteenth birthday, I waited at the usual spot behind the outfield fences at the ballpark before we came in for our first performance. My friends were in the bathroom fixing their hair and makeup, and for the moment I sat alone with my headphones on, visualizing our routines.

  When I felt someone next sit to me, I thought it was a teammate.

  I opened my eyes to someone else.

  Oh damn. Ryan. Look at him. His blue eyes . . .

  “Happy birthday a day late, Ms. Young.” He handed me a single yellow daisy.

  “Where did you get this?” The smile on my face told him everything he needed to know.

  “On my run this morning. It was growing in the grass at Crissy Field and the only one that was yellow. I thought, there’s Nicky standing out among all this regularity, so I picked it for you. I protected it all day so it wouldn’t get ruined.”

  He probably got it from some bouquet at a flower stand. Still . . . how sweet to make up a little story to go with it.

  “Are you teasing me? You didn't really find it, did you?"

  "Scout's honor." He put up two fingers.

  I'd love to kiss him.

  "I think you need admit you're just pulling my leg. Which is it, Mr. Tilton? A daisy for my birthday or another joke?” I drummed my fingers on my cheek.

  “I’m not pulling your leg.” His arm slid to the back of my chair while his lips formed a mischievous grin. I twirled the daisy between my fingers and brushed it over my face. “You like it?”

  “Who doesn't like flowers?” I tucked it in my hair.

  “Should I have bought an entire bouquet for you? That can be arranged."

  "If you really picked this daisy just for me, it means more than a dozen roses. Thanks for wishing me happy birthday."

  "I'm also here to remind you of our conversation back in November, when I stood with you, holding your hands in mine, and told you I'd be back."

  Silence was thick between us. Dare I step into the challenge that might end in a cruel joke? Or will it forever change my life?

  "Now that you’re eighteen, I can say the things I've wanted to say to you since last year."

  “Why haven’t you talked to me before tonight?” I tightened the Velcro on my tennis shoes. Although I was certain he was playing a joke on me, a little light burned in my heart from his words at the end-of-the-year-party back in November. "You've had months to tell me what you want."

  “No. I've had to hold back—until now. From the first time I heard your sweet laugh I've wanted to tell you about my feelings. They've been buried for years until you made them surface from deep in my heart." His hand covered my hand. "I made absolutely sure I entered the day you turned eighteen into my cell phone calendar. Here we are. It's over for me, Nicky.”

  God he's hypnotic.

  “Why?"

  "You're telling me you don't know why?" he smirked. "Come on now. You don't remember?"

  "No, I don't.” I remember every word. Don’t start pressing me; I’ve got to perform in a few minutes.

  “Yes, you do," he insisted. "You’re too smart to pretend.”

  “You said a lot of stuff and then except for a few quick hellos this year . . . nothing. What’s your problem anyway?”

  “I do have a problem,” he chuckled.

  “I’m serious. Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re just so easy to . . . sorry.” His upper lip betrayed his amusement.

  “When you make friends with someone you don’t disappear on them, Mr. Tilton. If you were too bashful to be with me alone, we could’ve gone to Yountville with my dad or someone else.”

  “I’m not at all bashful when it comes to you. It's just . . . I'm being careful.”

  “Yeah? Maybe it’s too late for careful.” My chin lifted in defiance. “You bailed on me. Maybe burned once, and then burned twice, well, damn it, I forget how that saying goes.”

  He tried to hide his a smile, but failed.

  I became irritated he found my discomfort amusing.

  “What I understand is that you were playing a joke on me.” My voice cracked. Why am I so emotional with him? “I thought we had a solid friendship. I wanted to see you more, but you didn’t want to see me.” I looked away and tried not to cry.

  “That's not true." He lifted his arm from the back of my chair and laid his hand on my shoulder. "I know you thought we were friends. We are.”

  “But Ryan,” I placed my hand on his forearm. A sensual ache surged through me. Holy shit, he is so, ooh, I want to squeeze those arms. “Wow!” I took my hand off of him quickly.

  “What’s wrong?” His oh-so-delicious smile said hello.

  You know what’s wrong. Your arm . . . your chest . . . your smile . . . your body!

  “You know," I ignored his question, uncertain of how to answer him. "I’ve wanted to thank you face-to-face for bringing me to Yountville since last year. I told you I was still going there at the November party, but I’ve wanted to tell you about all the things that have happened since then.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it." His tone was calm and soothing. "I knew you'd be a good fit. If you wanted to talk with me you could have called, by the way. You’ve got my cell number.”

  “Oh, right, that's all you need, some high school girl pestering you for your opinions and stuff. You’re busy enough without me gabbing in your ear." I paused to consider his offer. "I really did want to talk to you, though. I might have if I'd known it was okay with you. I just couldn't imagine you'd want to hear from me.”

  “You’re the only person who doesn’t have to worry about boundaries with me." His finger quickly touched my cheek. "I haven't built any fences with you. All that I am is wide open.”

  I just don’t know how to respond. All that he is . . . I wonder how his body looks without clothes? He's open for me . . . what?

  “I have news!” I tried to down shift his intensity.
<
br />   “What is it?” He opened his eyes wide to tease me.

  “I got into Stanford! I’m going next January.”

  “I knew you would. Congratulations.” His hand flexed on my shoulder. “They’re damn lucky to have you.”

  “Thanks! And thank you for the birthday wishes, too. It was pretty quiet, actually. My family took all day to say happy birthday. I was beginning to wonder if they forgot." I stared without really seeing anything. As I admitted what had happened out loud, it dawned on me just how dysfunctional it was that no one said a word until late that night. A half-hearted promise was made we'd go to dinner another day. I knew I'd wait for that day forever. "Oh well. I have too much going on with graduation and all that, and . . . oh yeah! I wanted to tell you how great you were in the playoffs. I mean you, personally. I never told you that at the party. Too bad you guys didn't make it to the World Series, but what a great year. Did you have fun?”

  “Yes, I did." His eyes softened and one of his fingers brushed the nape of my neck. "We came close, didn't we? I thought we had the Sharks in that game."

  "I know! That was a nail biter! Whelp, I guess I'll talk with you later, then." You'd better leave before I slide off this chair in a liquid mess.

  "I’m not done yet, Nicky.”

  Oh hell, here we go. I want to close my eyes and look away. Damn, he’s good looking. Look at those muscles in his arms, his golden brown hair . . . I'd love to grab it!

  “I’ve been dreaming . . .” His pupils expanded and contracted. His throat was throbbing and one vein stood out and bulged as if trying to get out of his body. “Dreaming about us."

  "Us?"

  "Being together. I didn’t know exactly who you’d be, but when I saw you, I knew. Were you aware that all this time you were making a silent announcement that called me to your side?”

  My throat is closing.

  “We'll be so good together . . .” He looked all over my face. “I know you can feel me. Don’t you know why I stopped going with you to Yountville? Didn’t I already explain it?”

  “Yes, but . . .” I didn’t believe you then and I don’t now.

  “You make things rise up in me that . . .” His sumptuous smile beckoned. “. . . I haven’t felt since my father was alive.”

  Please just stop.

  “I don’t know what to say." I swallowed.

  “Don't say anything." He stopped talking but wouldn't turn away.

  "And?" I urged him to continue.

  "I saw the light in your eyes and the movement in your body from the beginning. Tell me I didn't misread your signs.”

  “Well, I—”

  “In the bistro last year, we felt the same things, didn't we?" Ryan interrupted. "When I told you I wanted to focus my attention on you, did you like it?”

  “Yes.” Just listen to him, and answer yes or no to get him out of here before you fall over dead. What is this strange pulsing in my belly?

  “I didn’t mean only for that day." He pulled a box from his pocket. "Something to remember your eighteenth birthday."

  I opened it and found a sterling silver charm, the kind that was added to a bracelet. It was the number eighteen with a little emerald on it. Tears welled in my eyes. He remembered and my family didn't. "Thank you. It's too much, but I love it. I really love it, but I don’t . . . I don't understand about lights and body language. I'm not sophisticated and don’t have anything to give yet. I haven't done anything, Ryan. I'm empty handed.”

  His eyes narrowed as if he was suddenly possessed by something not evil . . . but far from good.

  “Oh, Nicky, you just don’t realize how much of a woman you already are. The beauty inside your heart, the love and generosity you have for others . . . those are my gifts and my privilege to witness. Close your eyes for a minute.”

  He put his fingers on my eyelids. I kept them closed. He took the daisy from my hair and tickled my nose with it. I smiled when I heard the dance in his voice.

  “I come to your house and pick you up some morning. The fog’s hanging low. You put on my jacket. I say hello to your parents and we walk to my car. We drive to the bakery so you can run in to get our coffees and then head up to Yountville for a phenomenal day. Ms. Young, I see a big smile on your face.”

  I know. Damn it, I know. I can't seem to hide from him.

  “After we’re done at the Veterans’ Hospital, we have one of our great talks over a late lunch and head to the coast to watch a the sunset. My arms surround you. My lips enjoy yours. You feel so safe that you reach out to bring me close—and you do. Can you picture that? Do you share my vision?”

  “Yes.” I looked away.

  “I’m not seeing anyone else. Do you understand what I’m saying? I don’t want anyone except you. To prove my commitment, I’ve stopped seeing other women.”

  He lifted my hand and kissed it. "Until next time." Then he walked away without looking back.

  I was a goner.

  All my focus on our upcoming cheer routine faded.

  Instead of preparing to entertain the fans, I felt as if I was preparing for a new part of my life. I tried hard to get it together so my teammates didn’t see I was flustered.

  In reality, I felt taken apart.

  I grasped the little charm in my fist and then tucked it in my pocket. I never shared Ryan's visit or his gift to me with any of my friends.

  Quietly over the next week I waited to be taken to Yountville, watch the sunset at the ocean and perhaps experience his kiss.

  He never called me.

  I waited for more than a week for him to visit me again.

  Ryan’s conversation, while heated and unnerving, faded away like a dream I once had.

  I finally got it.

  He was joking. His plan was to wind me up every once in a while and then have a good laugh with his friends about how he'd charmed someone naive and gullible. So I made up my mind to shut him off completely. Cut him off before the hurt was too deep—I was an expert.

  My parents taught me well.

  No longer would I fall for Ryan Tilton’s bag of tricks.

  Regretfully, I let him—let us—go.

  Secretly, I hoped we could still be friends.

  Secretly, I was sad we’d never be anything more.

  Chapter 16

  Jerry Stowe

  Two weekends after my birthday was my senior prom. Jerry Stowe, a close friend I’d grown up with, asked if I’d be his date.

  Creating memories was my mission. I always felt like I was short on time with friends. I happily said yes.

  Shortly after I received my letter of admittance to Stanford, Jerry received his. His partial scholarship for baseball wouldn’t begin until spring, and so he'd also go to junior college in the fall. I was excited that we’d be going to both colleges together.

  Lately, our friendship seemed to morph into something else. His goodbye hugs were a little tighter and he gave them to me more often. His kisses didn’t seem as innocent, and were no longer reserved for my cheek. He held my hand a little longer when we walked together and gave me gentle squeezes when our conversation danced with suggestive teases.

  Jerry’s body took on the shape of a man in our senior year. His two hundred pounds and six-foot frame was previously thin and awkward. He’d filled out beautifully.

  My innermost thoughts were slightly less innocent when I was with him as of late, and things like, what if we, and I wonder how he’d feel against me, replaced my buddy, and let’s hang out.

  All of my friends had boyfriends, so their prom plans were locked up months ago. They had already purchased their dresses and only needed to try them on after having them fitted. When they invited me to go with them and promised to help pick out my dress, I was relieved. I knew they'd give me objective advice—the great thing about girlfriends—no holes barred.

  We went to several stores. While my friends tried on their dresses one final time, I frantically tried on a variety at each stop, hoping to find the one. Eventuall
y, we ended up at Macy’s.

  “Look, Nicky!” Colleen shouted. “Hey, everybody, look!" She pointed toward the ceiling. "Look at Nicky plastered up there with her silly pose!”

  High on the walls of the junior department was a collage featuring high school senior girls with a graduation theme. A variety of photos hung on the wall including one Ben took of me, when Alex had modeled swimsuits weeks earlier.

  “Wait until I get a hold of Alex," I warned gently. "That picture was taken last month when she was modeling bathing suits. I thought Ben was just fooling around.”

  "Who's Ben?" Lorraine asked.

  "Her photographer."

  "You posed?" Marilyn pushed, obviously excited.

  "Not on purpose." I tied my hair in a knot. The excitement built as my friends’ listened to the details of the photo shoot.

  It seemed because I was in the middle of it, Colleen took their attention away and held up a dress for me. “Here, Nicky, this dress is perfect.”

  My head jerked at her sudden movement and high tone. I wasn't ready to have a dress shoved in my face as I was talking.

  "Hold it up," she ordered.

  It was a floor-length, royal blue strapless, Decode 1.8 dress, and definitely my color. I was tired of shopping and bought it immediately.

  After we all had our dresses, we not only made a day of it, but during the week leading up to prom, we alternated sleeping over a different friend’s house each night. We paraded around in our dresses, styled each other's hair finding the perfect look, made up our faces, tried on all kinds of jewelry, and then took a vote on what the right look was for each girl. Once the vote was unanimous for one of us, that girl was set.

  When it came to my friends spending the night at my house, we skipped it. Everyone understood it was off limits.

  * * * * *

  Prom night arrived.

  Just as I finished my makeup, the doorbell rang. Mom yelled for me to answer it, both us thinking that Jerry was early. I rushed down the stairs in my dress, my hair up and my tennis shoes underneath my gown. I wanted to meet him at the door to make sure we left before my father came home.