Driven Collection

by K. Bromberg

  “Rylee?” The uncertainty in her voice has me leaning out the window of the car.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s not my place to say it...” she clears her throat “...but be patient. Colton’s a good man.”

  “I know.” My voice is barely audible, my stomach lodged in my throat. If only he would realize it.

  My drive back down the coastline is not as filled with hope as my drive up it was. I tell myself that he probably went out with Beckett and was too drunk to drive home. That he went out with the crew and grabbed a hotel in downtown L.A. after partying a little too hard. That he decided it was time for another trip to Las Vegas and is on the plane home right now.

  The endless scenarios run through my head but do nothing to alleviate the ripples of fear that ricochet within me. I don’t want to think of the one other place that he could be. The townhome in the Palisades. The place he goes to be with his arrangements. My heart races and thoughts fly recklessly at the notion. I try to justify that he crashed there. That he’s alone. But both Teagan’s and Tawny’s comments flicker through my mind, feeding the endless stream of doubt and unease churning within me.

  My mind fills with the many warnings he’s given me. “I sabotage anything that resembles a relationship. I’m hardwired this way, Rylee. I’ll purposely do something to hurt you to prove that I can. To prove that you won’t stick around regardless of the consequences. To prove that I can control the situation.”

  I don’t remember steering the car in that direction, but before I know it, I’m turning down his street from memory. Tears spill over and down my cheeks as I grip the steering wheel tightly. The need to know outweighing the agony of acknowledging what my mind fears. What my heart worries. What my conscience already knows.

  I pull up to the curb, a small sigh escaping my lips in momentary relief when I see that none of Colton’s cars are there. But then I see his garage door and wonder if it’s inside. I have to know. I have to.

  I push my hair out of my face and suck in a deep breath before I slide out of my car. I walk on weak knees up the pathway and into the cobblestone courtyard. My heart pounds so loudly that its thundering is all hear, all I can focus on besides telling my feet to place one foot in front of the other.

  MY FUCKING HEAD. I GROAN as I roll over in the bed. Stop pounding on the goddamn drums. Please. Somebody. Anybody. Fuck me.

  I shove the pillow over my head, but the throbbing continues in my temples. My stomach rolls and twists, and I have to concentrate on not getting sick because my head really doesn’t want me to get up just yet.

  Fucking Christ! What the hell happened last night? Bits and pieces come back to me. Becks coming to get me to shake me out of the voodoo pussy funk. A funk I’m not really sure I want to be shaken from. Drinking. Rylee—wanting Rylee. Needing Rylee. Missing Rylee. Tawny meeting us at the bar for some signatures. A lot of fucking alcohol. Way too much fucking alcohol according to my head right now.

  Pleasure to bury the pain.

  I struggle to fight through the fuzz in my head to remember the rest. Snapshots of clarity amidst the haze. Coming back here. Palisades house closer than Malibu. Drinking more. Tawny not comfortable in her business suit. Getting her a shirt of mine. Standing in the kitchen looking at the fucking Tupperware container of cotton candy on the counter. Memories of the carnival making the ache burn.

  “Oh shit.” I groan as the next recollection flickers through loud and clear.

  Sitting on the couch. Becks, the fucker looking no worse for the wear even though he’s gone drink for drink with me, sitting in the chair across from me. His feet propped up and his head angled back. Tawny next to me on the couch. Reaching over her to the end table to grab my beer. Her reaching up. Hands around my neck. Mouth on my lips. Too much alcohol and a chest still burning with need. Hurting so bad because I need Rylee. Only Rylee.

  Pleasure to bury the pain.

  Kissing her back. Getting lost in her momentarily. Trying to get rid of the constant damn ache. To forget how to feel. All wrong. So wrong. Pushing her off. She’s not Rylee.

  Looking up and meeting the disapproving eyes of Becks.

  Fuuccckkk! I shove myself up from the bed and immediately cringe at the freight train that hits my head. I make it to the bathroom and brace myself on the sink for a moment, struggling to function. Images of last night keep flashing. Fuckin’ Tawny. I look up to the mirror and cringe. “You look like shit, Donavan,” I mutter to myself. Bloodshot eyes. Stubble verging on beard. Tired. And empty.

  Rylee. Violet eyes begging me. Soft smile. Big heart. Fucking perfect.

  I love you, Colton.

  God, I miss her. Need her. Want her.

  I brush my teeth. Trying to rid the taste of alcohol and misery from my mouth. I start shoving off my shirt and underwear—needing to get the feel of Tawny’s hands off of me. Her perfume off of me. Needing a shower desperately. I’m just about to flick the water on when I hear a knock at the front door. “Who the fuck?” I grumble before looking over at the clock. Still early.

  I look disjointedly for something to wear, trying to shake the fuzz from my head. I can’t find my pants from last night. Where the hell did I put them? Frustrated, I yank open my dresser, grab the first pair of jeans I find, and hastily shove my legs in them. I hurry down the stairs starting to button them up as I try to figure who the fuck is at my door. I glance over to see Becks passed out on the couch. Serves the asshole right. I look up to see Tawny and her mile long legs opening the door. The sight of her—T-shirt, legs, and nothing else—does nothing to me, for me—when it used to do everything.

  “Who is it, Tawn?” My voice sounds foreign as I speak. Gravelly. Unemotional because the only thing I want is Tawny gone. I want her out of my house so I don’t need a reminder of what I could have done. What I almost fucked up. Because it matters now. She matters now.

  And when I step into the blinding morning light through the doorway, I swear to God my heart stumbles in my chest. There she stands. My angel. The one helping me break through my darkness by letting me hold on to her light.

  MY KNOCK SOUNDS HOLLOW ON the front door. I lay my hand on it, contemplating knocking again, just to make sure. My shoulders start to sag in relief that he’s not holed up inside with someone when the door pushes inwards beneath my fingers.

  All the blood drains to my feet as the door swings open and Tawny stands before me. Her hair is tousled from sleep. Make-up is smudged under her bedroom eyes. Her long, tan legs connect to bare feet that stick out from under a T-shirt that I know is Colton’s, right down to the small hole in the left hand shoulder. The morning chill showcasing her braless breasts.

  I’m sure that the look of shock on my face mirrors the one on hers, if only momentarily, for she quickly recovers, a slow, knowing, siren’s smile spreading across her face. Her eyes dance with triumph, and she licks her tongue over her top lip as I hear footsteps from inside.

  “Who is it, Tawn?”

  She just widens her grin as she uses her hand to push the door open further. Colton strides toward the door with nothing on but a pair of jeans; jeans his fingers are fumbling to button the fly on. His face sports more than its usual day’s worth of growth, and his hair is unwashed and messy from slumber. His eyes are bloodshot causing him to flinch at the morning sunlight as it comes in through the doorway. He looks rough and reckless and as if the alcohol from the night before has taken its toll. He looks how I feel, shitty, but no matter how much I hate him in this moment, the sight of him still causes my breath to hitch in my throat.

  It all happens so quickly, but I feel as if time stops and moves in slow motion. Stands still. Colton’s eyes snapping to mine when he realizes who is at his door. When he understands that I know. His green eyes hold mine. Imploring, questioning, apologizing, all at once for the hurt and crushing devastation that is reflected in mine. He steps forward into the doorway and a strangled cry escapes my lips to stop him.

  I struggle to breathe. I try to d
rag in a breath, but my body is not listening. It does not comprehend my brain’s innate commands to draw in air because it is so overwhelmed. So crushed. The world spins beneath me and around me, but I can’t move. I stare at Colton, the words in my head forming but never making it past my lips. Tears burn in my throat and sting my eyes, but I fight them back. I will not give Tawny the satisfaction of seeing me cry as she smirks at me from over his shoulder.

  Time starts again. I draw in a breath and thoughts start to form. Anger starts to fire in my veins. Emptiness starts to register in my soul. Pain radiates in my heart. I shake my head in disgust at him. At her. In resigned shock. “Fuck this,” I say quietly but implacably as I turn to walk away.

  “Rylee,” Colton calls out in despair, his voice gravelly from sleep as I hear the door slam behind me. “Rylee!” he shouts at me as I all but run down the path, needing to escape from him. From her. From this. “Rylee it’s not what you— ”

  “Not what I think?” I yell over my shoulder at him in disbelief. “Because when your ex answers your door this early in the morning with your shirt on, what else am I supposed to think? ” His footsteps are heavy behind me. “Don’t touch me!” I yell as he grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. I yank it from his grip, my chest heaving, my teeth clenched. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

  Albeit temporarily, anger has replaced the hurt now. It is coursing through me like a wild inferno, emanating off of me in waves. I clench my fists and squeeze my eyes shut. I will not cry. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he has torn me apart. I will not show him that giving my heart away for the second time might be the biggest regret of my life.

  When I look up, his eyes meet mine, and we stare at each other. My love for him still there. So deep. So raw.

  So forsaken.

  His eyes swim with emotion as he clenches and unclenches his jaw trying to find the right words. “Rylee,” he pleads, “let me explain. Please.” His voice breaks on the last word, and I close my eyes to block out the part of me that still wants to fix him, comfort him. And then the anger hits me again. At me for still caring for him. At him for breaking my heart. At her for…just being.

  He runs a hand through his hair and then scrubs it over the stubble on his face. The sound of its rough scratch—the one that I usually find so sexy—does nothing but drive the proverbial knife deeper into my heart. He takes a step forward, and I mirror him taking a step back. “I swear, Rylee. It’s not what you think…”

  I snort incredulously, knowing the consummate playboy will say anything—do anything— to talk his way out of this. The image of Tawny snuggled in nothing but his shirt flashes in my mind. I try to quiet the other ones that form. Of her hands on him. Of him tangled with her. I close my eyes and swallow purposefully, trying to wipe the images away. “It’s not what I think? If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck...” I imply with a shrug “...well then you know what they say.”

  “Nothing hap— ”

  “Quack!” I shout at him. I know I’m being childish, but I don’t care. I’m pissed and hurting. He shakes his head at me, and I can see the desperation in his eyes. Tawny’s smug smirk fills my head, her previous taunts echo in my mind, and they fuel my fire.

  Colton’s eyes search mine as he steps toward me again, and I retreat. I see the sting of rejection glance across his face. I need my distance to think clearly. I shake my head at him, disappointment swimming in my eyes and pain drowning my heart. “Of all people, Colton…why choose her? Why turn to her? Especially after what we shared the other night…after what you showed me.” The memory of the intimacy between us as we looked in the mirror at each other is almost too unbearable to envision, but it floods into my mind. Him behind me. His hands on my body. His eyes drinking me in. His lips telling me to look at myself, to realize why he chooses me. That I’m enough for him. A sob I can’t hold back escapes and is wrenching and comes from so deep within me that I wrap my arms around my torso to try and stifle its effects.

  Colton reaches out to touch me but pauses when I glare at him, his face etched with pain, and his eyes frantic with uncertainty. He doesn’t know how to assuage the pain he’s caused. “Rylee, please,” he begs. “I can make this right again...”

  His fingertips are so close to my arm that it takes everything I have to not lean into his touch. Visually shunned from touching me, he shoves his hands in his pockets to ward off the early morning chill. Or perhaps mine.

  I know I’m hurt and I’m confused and I hate him right now, but I still love him. I can’t deny that. I can fight it, but I can’t deny it. I love him even though he won’t let me. I love him even through the hurt he’s inflicted. The floodgates I’ve been trying to hold back burst and tears spill over and down my cheeks. I stare at him through blurred vision until I’m able to find my voice again despite the despair. “You said you’d try...” It's all I can manage to say, and even then my voice breaks with each word.

  His eyes plead with mine and in them I can see the shame. For what, I can only imagine. He sighs, his shoulders sagging and his body defeated. “I am trying. I...” His words falter off as he removes his hands from his pocket and something falls out of one. The scrap of paper flickers to the ground in slow motion, the sun catching its reflective silver packaging. It takes my mind a moment to process what has landed at my feet—and not because I don’t understand, but rather because I am hoping against hope that I’m wrong. I stare at the emblazoned Trojan emblem on the torn package, synapses slow to fire.

  “No, no, no—” Colton repeats in shock.

  “You’re trying?” I shout at him, my voice rising as anger blazes. “When I meant try, Ace, I didn’t mean try to stick your dick in the next available candidate the first time you got scared!” I’m yelling now, not caring who hears. I can sense Colton’s rising panic—his uncertainty of how to have to actually deal with the fallout of his actions for once—and the notion that he’s never had to before…that no one else has ever called him on it, made him accountable, feeds my anger even further.

  “That’s not what I— I swear that’s not from last night.”

  “Quack!” I shout at him, wanting to grab him and hold him and never let him go and at the same time wanting to hit him and push him and show him how much he’s hurt me. I’m on a fucking roller coaster, and I just want to jump off. Stop the ride. Why am I still here? Why am I even fighting for something he so obviously doesn’t want? Doesn’t deserve from me?

  He runs his hands through his hair in exasperation, face pale, eyes panicked. “Rylee. Please. Let’s just take a pit stop.”

  “A fucking pit stop?” I shout at him, my voice escalating, pissed that he’s patronizing me right now. A pit stop? More like an engine rebuild. “Did you not believe in us enough?” I ask, trying to understand through the hurt. “You told me the other night that Tawny had a tenth of the sex appeal I had? Guess you chose to go slumming, huh?” I know I’m being overdramatic but my chest hurts with each breath that I take, and frankly I’m beyond caring at this point. I’m hurt—devastated—and I want him to hurt like I do. “Did you not believe enough in me that you had to run to someone else? Fuck someone else?” His silence is the only answer that I need to know the truth.

  When I finally have the courage to look up and meet his eyes, I think he sees the resignation in mine, which in turn causes panic to flicker through his. He holds my gaze, emerald to amethyst, a volume of emotions passing between us— regret the biggest of all. He reaches out to wipe a tear from my cheek, and I flinch at his touch. I know that if he touches me now, I will dissolve into an incoherent mess. My chin trembles as I turn to go.

  “I told you I’d hurt you,” he whispers behind me.

  I stop in all two steps of my walk away from him. So much for distance, but his words infuriate me. I know if I walk away without saying this, it’ll be something I will forever regret. I whirl back around to face him. “Yeah! You did! But just because you warned me doesn’t mean th
at it’s okay!” I shout at him, sarcasm dripping with anger. “Suck it up, Donavan! We both have baggage. We both have issues we have to overcome. Everyone does!” I seethe. “Turning to someone else…fucking someone else, is unacceptable to me. Something I won’t tolerate.”

  Colton sucks in his breath as my words hit him like punches. I can see the torment on his face and a part of me is relieved to know that he is hurting–maybe not as much as I am–but at least I know what I thought we were wasn’t all a lie. “You can’t possibly love me, Rylee,” he says quietly resigned, his eyes on mine.

  “Well you sure tried to make sure of that, didn’t you?” I say with a wavering voice. “Did you sleep with her, Colton?” My eyes beseech his, finally asking the question I’m not sure I want answered. “Was fucking her worth losing me?”

  “Does it matter?” he snips back, emotions warring over his face as he goes on the defensive. “You’re going to think what you want to think anyway, Rylee.”

  “Don’t turn this on me, Colton!” I scream at him. “I’m not the one who fucked this up!”

  He stares at me for a few moments before he responds, his eyes accusing, and when he does, his voice is an icy barb. “Didn’t you though?”

  His words are a stinging slap to my face. Callous Colton has resurfaced. Tears re-emerge and run down my cheeks. I can’t stand here anymore and deal with my pain.

  Something behind him catches my eye, and I glance over to see that Tawny has opened the door. She is leaning against its frame, watching our exchange with amused curiosity. The sight of her there gives me the strength I need to walk away.

  “No, Colton,” I answer him sternly, “this is entirely on you.” I close my eyes and breathe deep, trying to control the tears that won’t stop. My breath hitches and my chin trembles at what I should have done the first night we met. “Goodbye.” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion and my eyes full of unshed tears.