Darker Water
Page 25
With my back still to the wall, I did what he said until my nose stopped bleeding and the throbbing was numbed by the ice pack. The whole time he stood two feet from me, leaning against the other wall, watching and waiting with his arms crossed over his chest, expressionless.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want this to happen.”
I saw where this was going, what he was thinking, from the guilt in his eyes. “Stop it. He did this to me, not you.”
He let out a single bitter-sounding chuckle. “I hit you, Lane. Me.”
“It was an accident.”
“What about next time? Are you going to say that again next time? Am I going to say it to you?”
“There won’t be a next time. It was an accident for shit’s sake.” I reached out but he yanked his arm away before I could touch him. “How can you not see what I see in you?”
He backed up a step. “You keep hoping I’m someone else. Trying to pretend I’m something I’m not. I’m a frog, Lane. I’ve always been a frog and I always will be one. If you don’t get away from me now, I’ll kill the life you have in you right now.” His hand lifted up as if he was going to touch me but then stopped. “I love the life you have in you, Lane. But I’ll end up taking it away, destroying it, turning you into a person you don’t want to be.”
“That’s bullshit.” I shook my head. “You keep telling yourself it could never be good, it could never be great. Well, guess what. It is. You are. You’re great and you’re not broken and you won’t hurt me. The only person you’re hurting is yourself. Over and over in some stupid, useless kind of penance. And it will never end because you’ll never let it. You’ll punish yourself until there’s nothing left to punish. For something that’s never been yours to pay for. You aren’t your father.”
His lip curled in distaste, probably because someone was finally throwing the truth in his face and he couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, or find something to distract him from dealing with it this time.
Why is someone else’s pain so much worse than your own sometimes? To see someone you love punish themselves and think they deserve it?
“You shouldn’t have given me a second chance.” When he straightened and ran his fingers through his hair, I knew he’d stopped listening.
“If I hadn’t, I would be sobbing on the floor because you wouldn’t have been there to stop Kevin. And no one would be here for me, taking care of me and letting me know I’ll be okay.” My body tightened as I tried to hold it together long enough to say what I had to say. “And no one would be breaking my heart because they won’t believe they’ll be okay, too. Because we can make sure you are.”
He shook his head. I swear, if his prick of a father wasn’t already dead, I would have given the bastard a prize. If his goal had been to truly fuck up his son’s thinking, he’d won.
“Damn it, Carson!” I shouted. “I’ll give you a second chance and a third and as many as it takes. Because you’re not a frog. You’ve never been one and never will be. Stop punishing yourself before there’s nothing left of you. Because then there will be nothing left for me to love. And I want to love you.” I paused and took a breath that softened what I asked for next. “Please let me love you.”
His whole body trembled, fought itself, maybe because he couldn’t decide which way to go. I didn’t know what else to say, how to convince him that he wasn’t who he thought he was. He’d saved me and I wanted to return the favor. I just didn’t know how. So I waited for him to do something, anything that would tell me where he stood, where I stood, where we stood.
I wasn’t leaving. But he was.
“I can’t,” he said, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. “I’m sorry, Lane. I’m really, really sorry. Lock the door behind me. Make sure you call the police and get a restraining order against your ex.”
I knew I’d watch him walk away eventually, but I didn’t think it would be like this. “Carson, please. Don’t—” My last word was severed by the slamming of the door. I stood there, undecided, unsure. A minute later, I flipped the deadbolt. There was a much bigger chance that Kevin would come back than that Carson ever would.
I found my phone under a workbench, slumped into a chair, and called the police. But what Kevin had said kept ringing in my ears.
Carson did have a lot more to lose than he did. How could I hurt the person who’d done so much to help me? I hung up after the first ring.
And then I cried more than I’ve ever cried before.
I was in love and it hurt and it wasn’t going to stop. Because I would never give it up. Because he was worth everything.
Chapter 40 - Carson
My misery didn’t want company. It wanted time and attention and things to consume. So I let it. Finally, I’d proven myself to be just as much a bastard as I’d always known I was, just as much as my father and all the fuckers that came after him.
One problem, though. I couldn’t get Lane out of my mind. I couldn’t stop seeing her, tasting her, remembering how soft her skin was. I could’ve sworn I heard her voice, saying things I wished were true. I even went shopping for a new bed because mine was too big and too empty and I couldn’t sleep. But mattress salesmen aren’t very sympathetic to guys who almost lose it in their showroom. Good to know.
I couldn’t even look at my bathtub because all I saw was her smile, and all I thought about was how happy that stupid fucking porcelain bowl made her.
So I let myself suffer, knowing how much I’d let her down. I don’t know if it was ironic or poetic, but as bad as that hit was, as much as I hated myself for it, that wasn’t even the worst thing I’d done. The one before this was the thing that set everything in motion. Biggest fuck-up ever. What I’d been able to deny until now.
I let her love me. I wanted her to love me, and I hadn’t done enough to make her see what was going to happen. Because I was a selfish prick and didn’t want to stop seeing that look in her eyes or feeling her intensity. I didn’t want to give up knowing she’d be there whenever I needed her. So I kept telling myself she could handle it. I even convinced myself it was a good test for her—a new skill pushed to its limit.
What a fucking idiot.
Even though there wasn’t enough money in the world to make up for all the bad I’d done to the most beautiful person I’d ever met, maybe it could help her get one step closer to the life she should have.
I almost started crying when I saw her website—it looked phenomenal. Nothing like it did the last time I checked. It was nice to know she was keeping herself busy instead of just blundering around uselessly like I was. She really was better off without me. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?
Kudos to Eric on the pictures—they were crazy good and showed off Lane’s talent and—
“Shit.” I had to stop thinking about her. I took a deep breath before I picked up my phone so I didn’t sound like a whiny four-year-old when the foundation’s office manager answered.
I ignored the ‘are you alright?’ and ‘why haven’t you come in or answered your phone for the last week?’ portion of the conversation and skipped straight to the favor.
I gave her Lane’s website address. “Buy what you can, but don’t negotiate. Give her whatever she’s asking for each piece, and then add all of it to the fall auction catalogue.” I set the budget at more than I guessed Lane made in a year, way more than she’d gotten for her lily pad tables, but she was still undercharging. She deserved the money, and the exposure from the auction might put her art in front of the right person. And the foundation would probably raise more than I paid from people who had too much money and better-than-average taste. Win-win for everyone. Almost everyone.
A few days later, some friends who didn’t understand anything—or maybe they just didn’t think I was capable of so much sap—dragged me to Vegas. We ended up at a club it was hard not to get laid in. Tonight, I saw at least three women who, if I was sane, I would have taken home. Three chances to forget about Lane for a
little while.
Fuck, what was stopping me? I’d never felt more lonely in my entire life. Since I was really good at not letting anyone get too comfortable, I never thought I could be lonely. She’d ruined me, made me want things I shouldn’t want. Made me need things I couldn’t have. And now I was a fucking mess.
None of these women would do that to me. I’d make one of them feel good and she’d make me feel good and then a couple hours later, we’d both walk away. Simple, straightforward, easy.
The brunette had a great body, a short skirt, and moved in a way appreciated by every guy in the place. A few months ago, I’d have been on that before she’d checked me out once, let alone the four times she had.
Why was I even hesitating? I didn’t owe Lane anything, didn’t love her or even plan to see her ever again. So what was my fucking problem? If this brunette took me to her place, there would be no memories there. For a little while I could pretend I was my old self. I considered it. I considered it while I had three more drinks than I’d planned on having.
Then I stopped thinking. Well, I stopped thinking clearly. And I started thinking with my dick, the way I used to. Before all the danger started, before Lane showed up and everything got turned upside-down. I was kind of happy back then. Well, I wasn’t miserable.
My brain woke up when we stepped onto the sidewalk outside the club. Something about fresh air, I guess.
“Wait a sec.” The woman wasn’t Lane. Why was I with someone else? I didn’t want to be with someone else. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not next year. This woman whose name I didn’t remember might have been really fun, but I didn’t care. I’d already felt more for someone, had already been with the most amazing woman in the world, and everyone else would be a step down.
However good the sex was, it wouldn’t measure up, and I would never be able to sleep with anyone else in my bed. So I apologized, took her back into the bar, and bought her a drink. When she was set, I said goodbye and took a cab to the hotel. Alone.
Just to punish myself, I got into the bathtub, closed my eyes, and deliberately remembered her. I would start to forget soon—I was really good at forgetting and denying and pretending. Everything other than feeling and loving and believing I’d ever find anything as great as what I’d almost had.
Chapter 41 - Laney
If my life wasn’t complete shit, it would have been perfect. A few months ago, I would’ve thought it was. I’d gotten calls from five different people who’d seen or heard about my work. Then, the owner of the Third Street Gallery wanted to meet me and see my portfolio. No promises, just a meeting in two weeks from now, but…
“Oh my god! He wants to meet me!”
Once my parents heard the dollar amounts—ones I never would’ve had the balls to ask for if it wasn’t for Carson—and explained to them what a gallery showing could do for me, they realized that my “hobby” was actually turning into something. That their daughter was an artist. I cried when I heard the pride in my mom’s voice when she said it.
Then again, I cried about pretty much everything these days. Ironic because I had everything I wanted. Except for the person I wished I didn’t want.
Other than to finish the lily pad tables and meet a few new clients, I hadn’t left the house. Even though I had repair work to finish, I didn’t do anything but sit on the couch and eat take-out. I hadn’t cleaned up the mess the fight had caused, just the thought of it made me tear up like an idiot. But it wasn’t because of the mess or the violence. I didn’t want a reminder that I wouldn’t be seeing Carson anymore. He wouldn’t be coming for his Getting Handy lessons, or to talk, or to sneak up behind me and start taking off my clothes while I was trying to concentrate.
Moving on.
“Laney?” Hillary called from the kitchen. She’d been awesome. I’d had to tell her about Kevin after she saw what he’d done to my face, but I didn’t say much about Carson. Since I wasn’t with him anymore and I was a total wreck, she must have known something was going on, but the title of “Man Hillary Most Wished Dead” went to Kevin now.
I didn’t waste any time thinking about Kevin because I was too busy obsessing about the other crappy things that had happened. All of this was my doing—not the Kevin parts, those were all him—but the broken heart thing was all me. Carson had never lied or cheated or done anything wrong. He’d never wanted me to be someone I wasn’t—I had. I’d wanted him to be someone who could love me. And saying, ‘Oops, my bad,’ didn’t cut it.
“Didn’t you hear the knock, Laney?” Oh, that’s why she looked so freaked out. I didn’t answer the door anymore, just in case it was Kevin. I couldn’t file a restraining order because then I’d have to explain why I needed one. I didn’t look up until I heard her open the door and mumble to someone. Then she came into the living room with…
Carson. I stopped breathing, afraid to move because I knew I’d do or say something stupid and he’d bolt again.
When Hillary stepped out of the way and I could see all of him, my mind couldn’t bend around the idea that Carson had cut his hair, put on a business suit, and somehow got the incredibly frustrating and gorgeous smirk off his face.
“I’m Hayden Bennett. You know my brother.”
“Oh shit.” What a moron. I’d spent enough time looking at Carson to know better. “Of course you are. Sorry.” I blamed it on the fact that I hadn’t eaten a vegetable in over a week. I wiped my hands off and shook his. “I’m Laney. Is Carson okay?”
“From what I know, he’s…” He looked around for a place to sit, difficult because I’d practically moved into the room—mine didn’t have a TV in it. I shoved some crap out of the way so he could have a chair. “Vegas is an easy place to be for someone who doesn’t want to be found. He switched hotels, so no one’s seen him for a few days.” He must have seen my look of panic. “But I hired someone to find him, and I’m told he’s fine. Carson does what Carson wants to do, but he’s not stupid. He did something like this after our father died. He ran away and then two days later he was back, acting as if it had only been two hours.”
“Sounds super healthy.”
Hayden smiled sadly. “I’m sure he’s told you enough to know we’ve never had a particularly healthy family.” We talked for a few minutes, which was something I was pretty proud of because not once did I ask him if Carson had told him about us. Hurray for me.
But I wasn’t actually sure why Hayden came here. To shoot the shit with someone who was no longer an issue? “Is there something you need me to do?”
“In a way.” He relaxed slightly, now that I’d let him out of small talk about how screwed up his family was. “A man—your ex-boyfriend, I believe—approached me.”
Oh shit. “I’m so sorry. We broke up a long time ago, back when he wasn’t crazy. Believe me, it was an unpleasant surprise for everyone when he showed up.” I rambled for a bit longer, until I had to stop and catch my breath. That was when I realized he didn’t care about all that stuff. He cared about his little brother.
“Did Kevin ask you for money?”
“Ask? No, there was no asking involved, but I wouldn’t have expected there to be any. He did bring up a past incident involving Carson, though, something we all thought was done.”
“Kevin mentioned it to me, too.” I just didn’t think he had the balls or lack of intelligence to use it.
“That’s why you didn’t go to the police?”
“I love your brother, so I don’t want him to get—” Both of us stopped. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was a poor word choice. I just meant I care a lot about him.” If I hadn’t seen Carson’s ‘you actually expect me to believe that’ face about a billion times, I wouldn’t have recognized Hayden’s.
“The bar fight was over a woman,” he said.
“Oh. I didn’t know that.” I smiled to cover a grimace. I didn’t want to think about Carson and I really didn’t want to think about him with someone else. “Well, Carson has questionable taste in women.”
I blinked. Carson stopped her from being beaten. With maybe more violence than necessary, but it didn’t mean he was unpredictable or dangerous to anyone other than someone who deserved it.
“I don’t think that’s how he remembers it,” I said.
“I doubt he remembers it at all. I only know because I heard the story from multiple sources, am a fairly good judge of character, and I know my brother. He wouldn’t have done it for any other reason.”
“He needs to know what really happened. You need to tell him that he did the same thing for that other woman as he did for me. He saved her.”
Hayden didn’t ask me what happened, like that would be invading my privacy. Much appreciated. Although it wasn’t privacy I was holding onto, it was my sanity. If I really started talking about it to someone who had the same jerk of a father Carson had, I’d lose it.
“I should go,” he said after a quick glance to his watch. “My plane leaves in an hour.” Then he answered the question I didn’t ask. “Vegas. Only to pick him up, though—I’m not a gambler.” He stood and handed me his card. “It was a pleasure, Laney. I hope things work out for you, and I hope my brother realizes what an idiot he is.”
Since I wasn’t sure what to say to that, I didn’t say anything. As soon as I closed the door, I regretted not asking if there was anything I could do to help. Other than not talking to anyone but him or Carson’s lawyer. I went back to the couch, flicking Hayden’s card onto the table. I wasn’t going to call. I was moving on with my life. Plus, I was chicken-shit.