by Randa Lynn
She blink several times. “You can’t do that.”
“What?” I ask. “This?” I drop my face to hers, nipping at her full bottom lip. She moans from my touch. She tries to suppress it, but that urge to grab a hold of me, losing herself in the moment, it’s too hard to fight. And I damn well won’t apologize for it.
I slip my tongue between her parted lips, savoring every moment she kisses me back. My heart pounds in my chest. My dick throbs in my jeans. I know where this is going. I feel her slipping; she’s drifting away from me. I just hope like hell I can put it off as long as possible.
I release her wrists. Her hands fall, then gripping my shirt, tugging me closer to her. I slip my hands in the opening of the robe, sliding them around her back. I reach down, pulling her up until she’s in my arms, straddling my waist with her legs. Her warm lips feel so perfectly against mine. Her tongue slides against mine as her arms wrap tightly around my neck. Her cherry blossom scent engulfs me, and my chest cracks at the thought of never smelling it again.
I can feel the erratic beat of her heart against my chest, and I know she feels it too. But feeling and accepting are two very different emotions, and Charlie isn’t accepting of feeling anything at all.
I suck on her bottom lip, giving us both a chance to catch our breath. When her eyes flutter open, I can see the slight crinkle dissipate in the corner of her eyes as they turn dark and distant. And just like that, she unhooks her legs from around me, dropping them to the floor, giving me no option but to release her.
Charlie steps away from me quickly, her back hitting the wall. Hastily wrapping the robe around her, she ties it shut. She’s hiding from me. She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Stop. We can’t do this.”
“Do what?” I ask, anger starts to fill my bones as she refuses to look at me. I know that Charlie. The one who refuses to look you in the eye because she’s pushing. She’s pushing away, and I know I won’t be able to pull her back to me this time.
Her guard goes back up. Her stance gets taller. Her face tightens. “I’m not the girl for you, Slayter. I can’t give you what you want. What you deserve.”
“What I deserve?” I laugh bitterly. “What I deserve is whatever the hell I want.” I take a step closer to her, only inches separating us now. “And what I want is you.”
“You can’t have me,” she says, her voice barely audible, completely going against the hard exterior she’s now showing.
“I’m not asking you to love me, Charlie. I’m not getting down on one knee and asking you to fucking marry me. I’m just asking for you. Any part of you you’re willing to give me is enough for me. You’re enough for me.” My voice grows with every word spoken.
“I’m not anywhere near enough,” she says, her voice feather light. She fiddles with the string on her bathrobe. “I’ll never be enough for a guy like you. I wasn’t enough to be a mother. And besides…” Her eyes dance around, examining the room behind me before they finally fall on me again. “You deserve more than just enough, anyway. You deserve someone whole, someone who can give you the entirety of their being. I can’t give you that. I can’t give you my heart, because I don’t even think I have it to give.”
“That’s bullshit!” I snap. I slap my hands against the wall behind her. Anger pricks my every nerve. Angry because life fucked her up. Angry because she can’t truly live until she lets go of guilt. And she’ll never let go unless she’s got something to hang on to. She’ll never have anything to hang on to unless she remembers. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
I’m not falling in love. I’m there. I’ve been there for longer than I care to admit.
And I guarantee you she’s about to lay one huge blow to a heart that only beats for her.
“Go home, Slayter.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrow. I can see the pain all over her face. I can hear the heartache in her every word. She’s got a heart alright. She’s got a heart so big it aches, longs, and yearns for something I can’t give her.
Her son.
“Leave.”
“Don’t run, Charlie.”
“I’m not running anywhere,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you to leave my apartment. I don’t need you trying to save me.”
“I’m not trying—“
“Leave!” she yells, flinging her hand in the direction of her door. Tears spring in her eyes, but refuse to fall. “I’m not a charity case. You can go on about your life, now.”
“Charity case?” I ask. “You think you are a charity case for me?” I laugh bitterly, interlocking my hands over my head. “You’ve got it so wrong. So fucking wrong.”
“The only thing I ever had wrong was thinking that it was okay to open myself up to you. I shouldn’t have, and it was a huge mistake.” She takes a deep breath. “Now get the hell out.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll walk away right now, but know that doesn’t mean I’m walking away from you. When you need someone to help pull you out from sinking under, call me. You might have given up on yourself a long time ago, but I never will. Because whether you like it or not, I’ve got you, Charlie.”
I lean down and, cupping her face between my hands, press my lips to hers. I kiss her like it’s the first time, but knowing damn well it could be the last.
“You haven’t come for a visit in a while.” Dr. White studies my demeanor, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “What’s brought you in after a six-month hiatus?”
Therapists are supposed to help you with your problems, right? I always feel like he does nothing but make me talk about them. I guess that’s the whole point. Maybe.
I don’t even know why I’m here.
Lies. I know exactly why I’m here.
“Nothing,” I tell him. “Everything.”
“So,” he crosses his legs, grabbing a hold of his penny loafers with his left hand, “is it nothing or everything that’s brought you into my office?”
I bring my legs up, sitting Indian style on the couch. My mind drifts to the last time I kissed Slayter. The night I told him I didn’t need him…
“Do what?” he asks. I know he’s staring at me, those gray eyes yelling at me despite his soft, husky voice right now. I can’t look at him, though. If I do, I’ll crack. And I can’t do that.
“I’m not the girl for you, Slayter. I can’t give you what you want. What you deserve.” My eyes dance around, eyeing the carpet lining my hallway.
“What I deserve?” he laughs, pain dripping from his voice. “What I deserve is whatever the hell I want.” He takes a step closer. My heartbeat accelerates more rapidly from his closeness. He could reach out a finger and touch me. “And what I want is you.”
“You can’t have me,” I lie. He can have me if I just let him, but I’m so confused with everything at this point, I don’t know which move is wrong and which move is right.
“I’m not asking you to love me, Charlie. I’m not getting down on one knee and asking you to fucking marry me. I’m just asking for you. Any part of you you’re willing to give me is enough for me. You’re enough for me.” His voice grows louder, and tears form in my eyes at the pain I’m causing him. The pain I’m causing me.
“I’m not anywhere near enough,” I whisper. I keep my hands busy, toying with my robe. “I’ll never be enough for a guy like you. I wasn’t enough to be a mother. And you deserve more than just enough, anyway. You deserve someone whole, someone who can give you the entirety of their being. I can’t give you that. I can’t give you my heart, because I don’t even think I have it to give.”
The reality of that sentence hits me like a freight train, ripping into my body right where my heart should lie. I don’t have it to give because it’s already been taken, unwillingly plucked from the confines of its home, and firmly planted into the hands of the man in front of me.
I didn’t want it to happen. I don’t want it to happen. Because how can I love someone when I don’t even love myself? I can’t. Th
at’s why this needs to stop, and it needs to stop now. If I let myself continue this, leading him down a path of darkness, it’ll only hurt us both.
There needs to be as little casualties as possible, and this time it should only be me.
“That’s bullshit!” He slaps his hand against the wall, causing me to flinch. He groans from deep inside his throat as the anger bellows within him.
I don’t blame him.
I’m mad at me, too.
I push everyone away.
And I’m about to push the only person who’s ever made me feel something other than sadness right out that door.
I’m not running, but I might as well be. Hiding is the exact same thing.
I’m hiding from my feelings. I’m hiding from the truth.
“Go home, Slayter.” I force the words out, causing every muscle in my body to want to rebel against me, throwing myself in his arms.
“No.” His voice is demanding. Authoritative. My eyes shoot up to him. He glares down at me, his jaw tight, full of tension. I can see the anger swirled with an intense mixture of pain in his eyes.
I know doing this is going to hurt both of us, but I can’t do this anymore. Allowing him to continue this will only make him believe that someday I’ll be able to give him every last piece of me. I can’t do that when I can’t decipher my own feelings. I can’t do that when I know I’ll never have every last piece of me to give.
I can feel it, the darkness waiting just up ahead, begging for me to enter.
I let my eyes study over Slayter’s features—his strong jaw and four-day old stubble. His gorgeous eyes silently beg for me to not do this.
But I have to.
I force the word out. “Leave.”
He breathes out slowly. “Don’t run, Charlie.”
“I’m not running anywhere.” I clench my teeth, forcing the anger I feel toward myself to emanate in his direction. “I’m telling you to leave my house. I don’t need you trying to save me.”
“I’m not trying—“
“Leave!” I flail my arm towards the door. Tears threaten to fall from my eyes, but I won’t let them. “I’m not a charity case. You can go on about your life, now.”
“Charity case?” He huffs. “You think you are a charity case for me?” He laughs, placing his hands on top of his head. “You’ve got it so damn wrong. So wrong.”
“The only thing I ever had wrong was thinking that it was okay to open myself up to you. I shouldn’t have and it was a huge mistake.” I take a deep breath, trying to calm every emotion swirling inside of me. Ironically, I wish to forget all about Slayter Beck. Maybe then my heart wouldn’t hurt this bad. “Now get the hell out.”
“Fine.” His head leans down slightly. His voice becomes deeper. “I’ll walk away right now, but know that doesn’t mean I’m walking away from you. When you need someone to help pull you out from under, call me. You might have given up on yourself a long time ago, but I never will. Because whether you like it or not, I’ve got you, Charlie.”
He leans down, and before I have time to do anything, he kisses me. He kisses me like I’m the oxygen in his lungs.
The last straw snaps as his tongue glides out from my lips, leaving me with a sense of emptiness I haven’t felt since he etched himself into my being.
I’m snuffing out my light. The darkness never looked so inviting.
I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to let all my emotions free in this room.
“Charlie. Is it nothing or everything?” Dr. White repeats.
“Everything.” I chew at the inside of my cheek nervously as he jots down notes on his pad of paper. I always feel so vulnerable in here. It’s a place of safety. A place I’m supposed to be able to lay everything out with no judgment. Yet when I’m in this room, on this hideous couch, I feel… judged.
“Can you elaborate on everything for me?”
We have a staring match for a moment before I succumb. I’m paying for this visit, after all. Way to do this to yourself, Charlie. “Sure. Why not,” I finally reply. “Well nothing has progressed, in terms of remembering.” I pause. “But my love life has, I guess you could say. Meaning I’ve actually attempted to put myself out there. I truly think I could really love someone. But I feel so guilty for having any sort of happiness. So I ran. Well, I really didn’t run. I hid. I pushed him out.” I shake my head, looking down at my chipped black polish. “That probably makes no sense.”
“It makes complete sense,” he retorts. “This is good. I already see progress from your previous visits. I usually have to pry your emotions out.”
“Yeah, well….” My voice fades, my sentence hanging in the balance.
“Now, what’s special about this love interest?”
“Everything.” When I say the word out loud, I regret it. The ache in my chest from Slayter’s absence instantly grows. He’s like a malignant tumor. I want him to leave my body, but his presence grows no matter how hard I try to ignore it. I try to shut myself off from spewing my truth, but I’m full of word vomit today. “It’s how he accepts me, brokenness and all. He doesn’t shy away at my memory loss. He doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile, instead like I’m strong.” But I’m not.
“You are strong, Charlie. You have to believe that.”
I look up at Dr. White as he glares at me over his eye glasses. “I don’t feel strong. I feel quite the opposite, actually. But with Slayter, he gives, no, he gave me a sense of life I have never known.” Which is why I pushed him away.
I haven’t seen or talked to Slayter in weeks, successfully ignoring his calls and texts. I managed to dodge seeing him when I bid Lizzie farewell at the airport. I’ve managed to not drink myself into oblivion over him. Instead, I drown myself in work, keeping myself busy with sessions and editing instead of busy with thoughts of him. It only works half of the time.
“And what about that scares you?”
“I didn’t say it scares me.” It most definitely scares me.
“But it does, doesn’t it?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer.
“Yes.”
“So, what about it scares you?” he prods again. His voice louder this time, demanding of an answer.
I throw my head back on the floral print couch and stare off at the ceiling tiles. “I’m not as much scared as I am full of guilt.”
“Guilty for being happy?”
I snap my head back down, meeting his stare. “Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?”
“You need to admit the things that weigh you down, Charlie.”
“Fine,” I state, rather coldly. “Yes, I feel guilty. Why do I deserve to have an ounce of happiness when my son is buried six feet under? He should be here. Then I wouldn’t have to live every day wishing I could remember him.”
“You’re not dead, Charlie. Why should you pretend like you are? Phoenix passed away. I know that, on top of your brain trauma, is a huge burden to bear, but you can’t stop living. Your son wouldn’t have wanted that.”
I stand up abruptly, pissed off that he thinks he knows what my son would have wanted. He was four years old, for Christ sake. He should be living and learning and laughing. “Thanks for wasting my time. Don’t expect to see me again after this visit.” I grab my clutch, walking towards the office door.
“Charlie,” he calls out. My hand freezes on the knob. “Don’t die before you’re dead.”
I nod my head once, tears brimming my eyes, and walk out of Dr. White’s office for the very last time.
I fling my hard hat across the floor of the on-site office. “This is bullshit, Paul.” I flail my arms towards the door. “That out there is a huge cluster fuck. We should have been doing a final run through. Not still a week out from completion. Over schedule means over budget.” I take a deep breath, needing to calm my nerves.
“I’ve got it taken care of, Beck.”
“Taken care of?” I seethe. “This doesn’t look like it’s taken care of to me.”
&
nbsp; He slams his fist on the desk before sticking his finger in my face, his dark brown eyes glaring at me. Hot anger boils in the atmosphere. “You think I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing? You think I haven’t been working at this son of a bitch longer than you have? Twenty years, Slayter. Twenty years I’ve been helping your Pop and Glenn run this show. I fired the bastard who was lolling around, not doing his job. So yeah, I got this shit.”
He stares at me, japing off shit in Spanish I’ll never understand. Every time he gets heated, his Spanish pops out, knowing damn well I can’t understand him. I guess that’s why he does it. It pisses me off.
“English, Paul,” I grit out.
He shakes his head, sitting down in the chair. After a few moments of both of us cooling off, he finally says, “We were able to cut back spending by getting a new subcontractor. We’ll still be over budget, but not enough that will take us out. And we have this quick reno coming up that will be easy money.” He throws his stack of papers at me, and I take a look. Eyeing the numbers over makes my head hurt. I haven’t been able to fully concentrate on anything in the past few weeks. Charlie takes up every thought I have.
It’s driving me crazy.
She’s driving me crazy.
I worry about her, and I can’t help it. I try not to care, because why should I, when she chose to push me out? But, no matter how many times I tell myself to forget about her, my damn heart won’t listen.
“You need to get with it, Beck. You’ve been here, but haven’t really been here for a while. If you want this company to continue soaring, you’ve got to stop slacking on the reigns. I can only do so much when I’m not the one in charge or writing the paychecks.”
I nod my head in agreement. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Paul. My head is just fucked up lately.”
“That girl?” he asks, propping his hands behind his head. He’s heard me talk about Charlie in passing. Never in depth, because as much as I trust that man with everything in me, we never really get personal with our friendship. We keep most things work related, but he knows me better than most people despite that. He knows I’m not the guy to let someone get to my head, messing with my work. Even when Jodi left me, I didn’t allow it to mess with my company. I was able to shut that pain out, leaving it at home.