Sucker for Payne

by Carrie Thomas

  She huffed out a breath, and crossed her arms. “It’s a long story.”

  “I got time.” I shrugged.

  “And this is why you just happened to stop by my office out of the blue…to listen to my story?” she pressed.

  “Nah, I came here to apologize for being a prick the other day.”

  She stared at me and chewed the inside of her cheek, before a grin spread across her face. “You interested in some coffee?”

  “Sure,” I lied. Not coffee, just you.

  I followed at a snail’s pace behind Willow as she drove the whole way to her house under the speed limit. I had offered to drive, but she’d declined. I couldn’t be sure why, but I was fairly certain her rejection hadn’t been because she didn’t want to spend time with me—considering she’d invited me to her home.

  Pulling into her drive, I took a moment in the cab of my truck to push my worries back. The last thing I wanted to convey to her was fear. Not after she’d just been so strong in dealing with a junkie. I tucked my keys into my back pocket and met her in the garage.

  “Just let me change right quick. I’ll start the coffee first,” she said as she unlocked the door, and clicked the garage opener, causing daylight to be closed off as the large door shut.

  I took a seat in her living room, while different scenarios ran through my mind. The longer she took to change clothes, the crazier my ideas got. I wanted to know who the guy was, and why she had problems with him. Had they dated in the past? Why would he argue like that with an employee? What kind of dope was he on?

  Willow shuffled into the living room, wearing black yoga pants, an oversized sweatshirt, and light purple house shoes. She looked beautiful. Her hair was twisted up into a messy looking bun, pieces of it falling around her face. I inhaled deep as she took a seat next to me on the sofa.

  I looked around for the first time. Her house was eclectic. Her furniture sat catty-corner in the small living room, but the bursts of color from the picture frames and throw pillows were comforting somehow. There were minute details all over her home, telling me she’d spent time on decorating the space. She was good at it too.

  She tucked a teal-colored pillow under both arms, while pulling both legs underneath her to get more comfortable.

  “What’s he on?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “I think meth. Maybe coke.”

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “No. It’s been mostly verbal stuff,” she said.

  I leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees, knowing she might not like what I was about to suggest. “You need to type up a resignation letter.”

  “I’m not quitting. He can!” She sat straight up, as if she’d caught a second wind. Her anger surprised me. I figured the last place she’d want to be was stuck in an office, confronting old memories.

  “Willow . . .” I wasn’t sure what to say. I closed my mouth, then opened it again, and still, nothing came out. I wrestled with my thoughts as we stared at each other in silence. “You have to find another job. If you want to go to the police, I’ll take you myself, but please don’t go back around that psycho.”

  She studied me cautiously. I’d never been one to shy away from a challenge, but as I sat there, next to the woman I’d considered letting get to know the real me, I was petrified. I’d been able to handle whatever life had thrown at me, in whatever form, but being rejected by her wasn’t something I wanted to feel. It wasn’t that I thought she’d judge me, so much as she wouldn’t want to take a chance on me.

  “I’ll think about it,” she finally replied. Then she added, “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a junkie, you know.”

  I swallowed, hating hearing her words. She was too pure. Too beautiful and smart to have been subjected to something so ugly. “Who?”

  “When I was younger, I may have been a little rebellious.” She looked up at me and continued. “My first love—or what I thought was love—was reckless and wayward. He was selfish, and never thought beyond where the next party was.”

  I nodded, bashing myself on the inside, because honestly, it sounded like she was describing me. And I didn’t want to be anything like the person who’d hurt her.

  “I guess, I just didn’t really know who I was, or who I wanted to be at the time, so every time he’d tell me how special I was, or how much he loved me, I would just chalk his addiction up to us being young. At first, anyhow. I think, looking back on it, that he was abusive. Not physically, but emotionally. It got to a point where I didn’t care about myself.”

  She hugged her middle and shivered, like she was dead-center in the middle of a horrible memory. “For the longest time, I tried to help him. But over time, I just gave up. I gave up on him. I gave up on me. I just sort of threw my hands in the air. My memories from that time in my life feel as if I’d been buried alive. Almost suffocating.”

  I shook my head, knowing all too well what she was saying. Knowing how, even though no one ever wants to think about giving up, sometimes there doesn’t seem to be much to live for.

  “Long story short; I caught him cheating. Walked in right in the middle of it and swallowed the first pile of pills I found.”

  My gut clenched. I couldn’t picture her, this beautiful creature sitting in front of me, being so low. I couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact that she had not only taken drugs, but that she tried to kill herself.

  “Say something. Your silence is deafening.” She wiped a lone tear away from the corner of her eye.

  “I hate that you did that. I hate that a man treated you like that. And I really fucking hate that I can relate to it in any way.”

  “You can?” she asked.

  I nodded. “I can. Not with the dude part though.” She giggled. “But being so low. Not knowing what to do. Partying, like life doesn’t matter.” I pushed my fingers through my hair.

  “I just wanted you to know. I’m not sure what’s going on here,” she pointed from her chest to mine, “but I figured being honest was the way to go.”

  Honesty. I currently hated that word. It might have been just one word, but it was so hefty that it could shake the entire foundation in which she and I were currently working on building. I glanced up at her, knowing I needed to tell her, but still not wanting to.

  “Just say it, Conner. You won’t scare me away, I promise.”

  “I’m an alcoholic.”

  Her eyes narrowed for a split second. Our gazes never wavered. Neither of us blinked, waiting to see what the other was going to do. I was waiting for her to kick me out. She was waiting on me to elaborate. She won.

  “I started drinking as a teen. Mostly for fun, other times it was out of sheer boredom. Either way, I didn’t have some awful upbringing, where my family was so bad, I was driven to the point of escape. Then, there was like, years that went by, you know?” I rubbed my hands together, more from nerves than anything else. “I just lost control of it. I gave in to it a little bit each day, and it snowballed.”

  “I know you’re not drunk now. So, you changed it. You found that courage somewhere, and changed your life. Look at what you’re doing now with fighting.”

  Her attempt at encouragement fell on deaf ears. I didn’t change anything. I got locked up and dried out over a nine-year sentence. “I wish I could tell you it happened that way.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “You first.” I knew I had to tell her. I knew there was something between us; something that could last for a long time. And lying to her, or trying to hide who I really was, would only make the relationship last until she found out the truth for herself.

  She licked her lips, picked at her nails, and blew her bangs out of her face, before leaning back. “I almost died. I overdosed that night. The night I took all those pills. I found out later, while I was in the hospital, that it was OxyContin.” Her eyes shown brighter. “You know that feeling you get when you realize that everything has a purpose? Like when it finally da
wns on you that you’re here on Earth for a reason? A productive reason. And you feel like you’ve wasted so much time on people who don’t matter.”

  She scooted closer to me, drawing her knees underneath her ass to sit on her legs. “Well, I found that peace the day I woke up in the hospital. I knew I had to change; that I was worth the change. I could be who I wanted to be, if only I’d grasp the reins of my life.”

  I grabbed her hand without a second thought. We both stared, silently watching as our hands intertwined. We could feel it, our souls being woven together, showing the other who we truly were—who we’d once been.

  “I’ve made so many mistakes, Willow. So damn many. And I can attribute alcohol to nearly all of them. I’ve struggled. I’ve…altered other people’s lives because of my choices. But, right now, sitting here with you, wanting nothing more than to kiss your lips . . .” I lifted my free hand and grazed her plump bottom lip with my thumb. “I feel like none of that matters.”

  She leaned in, giving me the go ahead. I brought her mouth to mine, brushing my lips gently across hers. Her hair grazed my jaw, only making me more crazed. I turned my head, so I could deepen the kiss. Stealing every breath I could, I placed both hands under her arms and moved her until she was straddling my lap, never once breaking our kiss.

  Like two teenagers, we threw everything into the kiss, tilting our heads every few moments to match the other. My mind was blank. Negativity ceased to exist when I had Willow in my arms. Insecurity fell to the wayside; my only concern involved being in the moment with her.

  My hands wanted to roam. My pelvis wanted to push into her heat to create friction.

  The doorbell rang, and she ran her tongue along mine one more time before pulling back and looking at the door.

  I groaned in frustration. “Expecting someone?”

  Willow shook her head and shrugged, making her way to the door. When she opened it, there was a mailman standing there, holding a box. The fucking mailman interrupted me from sucking on her lips. What in the hell could have been so important that he couldn’t have just left the package at the door?

  I closed my eyes and breathed in deep, attempting to calm my body down, while Willow stood at the door, carrying on a full-blown conversation with her mailman about the new neighbor. She probably seemed normal to him, but I knew she was speaking to him with pink in her cheeks…because I’d put it there. I knew her sweatshirt was wrinkled because we’d just been body to body on her couch. I continued to watch them in silence—a grin on my face. In fact, I was still grinning when she closed the door and sat the package in an arm chair.

  She crossed the living room floor, with a seductive upturn to her lips.

  It was at that very moment, dread filled my gut. I’d never not wanted to talk to someone so bad in all my life, but I knew, if I had any chance with Willow Stevens, it was now or never. I couldn’t let things go any further until I spilled the beans.

  Just as she was about to sit back down on my lap, I stood and paced the length of the living room like a dog in a cage. I counted to fifty before I spoke. “I have something else to tell you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Willow

  “Tell me.” I could tell whatever he was about to admit was hard for him. I typically liked quiet people. I’d always been drawn to them. I loved that I never knew where they stood, or what they were thinking. They could’ve been a hundred miles away or fantasizing about a cupcake for all I knew. But now that I was witnessing the shadows behind his eyes, the anxiousness and vulnerability in them, I silently wondered what the appeal ever was.

  He wiped his palms on his jeans and chewed on the inside of his jaw, setting off alarm bells in my mind.

  “Conner?” I spoke gently, almost as if I were talking to a child.

  He stopped and looked at me for the first time since he’d started pacing. “Yeah?”

  I patted the seat cushion. “Come sit beside me.” I wanted to hold his hand, so he wouldn’t feel so alone.

  He sat down, awkwardly putting off a restless energy. I brought our hands together, squeezing once for comfort. He took in our clasped hands, then smiled sadly to himself.

  “I used to be in real estate,” he said, his voice thick with memory. “Had a decent life. Made decent money.” He shrugged and sighed. “This is fucking hard.”

  I thought he was going to pull away from me. The storm brewing in his eyes frightened me. He was struggling, and I wasn’t used to seeing him like that. His hands trembled in mine. His right leg bounced with nerves, and I worried he would back out.

  He blew out a deep breath and looked me straight in the eyes. “I trust you. And I’m not sure why. I’ve never felt the need to tell someone this.”

  Seeing the look in his eyes, the way his knee pressed tightly against mine, and the complete crack in his outer appearance, hit me like a ton of bricks. It was as if my body had forgotten the simple task of breathing. Tightness filled my chest, causing me to exhale slowly. I made no fast movements because I was afraid he might spook and not finish.

  “Nine years ago, I drove drunk, had a wreck, and killed the driver of the other vehicle.”

  My brain buzzed, so many thoughts circling around the small space; dizziness shook me, making me feel lightheaded. Conner was no killer. He couldn’t have been responsible for taking an innocent life. Could he? But he just told me he was.

  Sympathy flooded every cell in my body. I couldn’t believe he’d had to live with something so heavy. No wonder he was wounded. Carrying that burden was almost unreal. I’d made mistakes. Many of them. But all the bodily pain I’d ever caused had been to myself. I’d never hurt anyone else. Not physically anyway. My heart broke for him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, and moved our clasped hands onto his thigh as I leaned closer. “I’m sorry that happened.” My breath sped up, not knowing what he was going to do or say next.

  “You have no idea.”

  I pulled him closer. I might have needed the intimacy as much as him, but either way, I had to console him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and clutched him so tight, it seemed as if I were the stronger one. He leaned into me and I held him.

  After a while, I pulled away, but still kept contact. I had questions. Before I could ask them, he spoke again.

  “I went to prison. I’m a convicted felon.”

  I fought to keep my composure, but my eyes widened. There was such vulnerability in his voice; something so sincere, I couldn’t look away. I found myself wanting to fix all his hurts because I could see just how deep they were burrowed into the depths of his soul.

  “I get if this is too much, I just—well,” he said and pulled away. “I thought if we were going to hang out, you should know.”

  Cool air hit my legs as he created space between us. I pressed my hand on his thigh, rooting him in his spot. “I appreciate you telling me.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek, wishing I had more to say. My gaze dropped to his large, tanned hands that were constantly ringing each other. Swallowing, I added, “Thank you for today. I don’t know what would have happened if you’d not shown up.”

  “It was nothing.” He shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  The silence grew, taking on a life of its own. For the life of me, I didn’t know what to say. How could I ever heal that part of him? It had taken me years to forgive myself for not loving myself enough to care what happened to me. Years.

  I couldn’t imagine taking the responsibility of ending someone else’s life, and putting that in a box in my brain, where I could live with it and accept it. A place where I could still be okay—

  have peace in my life. I ached for him bone deep, knowing all the support in the world wouldn’t fix the hurt he carried around with him every day. I wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, and that we’d figure it out, but I just didn’t know if that was true.

  “I’m going to go. Give you some time to digest everything. It’s cool either way, really.” He stood. T
ucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he appeared less confident than I’d ever seen him. “You know I’m private.” His gaze met mine head on. “I’d appreciate if we could keep what I told you just between us.”

  “Conner, I’d never . . .” I reached out to touch his arm, but pressed my hand to my stomach instead. “You can trust me.”

  Pain flickered in his eyes as they focused on my middle. His shoulders fell forward as he nodded, then he walked toward the front door.

  “Wait.” I stretched my pinky out to him.

  Even though he didn’t smile, the lines around his eyes relaxed. He took hold of my pinky, and pressed his thumb to his lips. “I’ll see you around, Willow. I’m sorry about—well, about everything. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  Before I could thank him again, he walked out.

  I stood in turmoil at the large bay window, and watched him drive away. Hollowness hit the pit of my stomach. It hurt. I felt as if I’d just lost something I never quite had.

  ***

  “Know anybody hiring?” I asked the second Lena picked up my call.

  “Why?”

  “I quit my job.” I sighed.

  “What?”

  “Andy’s a dick. He tried to come onto me, and I think he’s on something. He’s a freaking mess.”

  “Gross. He didn’t touch you, did he?”

  I was glad we were on the phone. If we had been together, she would have picked up on my lies. “No. He was aggressive though. He cornered me at work, and Conner walked in at the end of it. It was intense.”

  She gasped. “Wait. Conner? What was he doing at your work? What did he say? What did Andy do? Oh my god! What did you do?”

  “Conner was…concerned.” I grimaced at the memory. “But thankfully, Andy left before things got out of hand.”

  “And why was Conner at your office? You little minx! Are you guys hooking up?”

  “No. Well, I think we might have, had he not walked in on me and Andy arguing, but—it’s complicated.”