“I’ll clear it for you. Mexico. Seven days. You. Me. Us.”
“I’m game.” The butterflies in my stomach aren’t from fear, but excitement. “We aren’t starting all the way over, right?”
His laughter is music to my ears. It’s very own beat dancing throughout my body. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean…will we be sharing a room? I have so much to tell you; we have a lot to talk about, but I’m ready.”
“Ready?”
“For all of us. All of it.” His lips claim mine, and the answer is loud and clear.
Chapter Sixteen
Heath
Her mouth under mine is like the Holy Grail. I thought it was a pipe dream for us to ever be together like this again. I’m not naïve enough to think we don’t have obstacles in front of us, but I’d climb mountains for this girl. Her lips yield to mine. I feel the whisper of her breath igniting me like a candle. Heat furls from my chest, encompassing my body, in every limb, I feel her. Our mouths moving in sync, a promise of what is yet to come. It’s as if our lips, tongues, and mouths were the way to express the emotions surrounding us. A kiss stops being a kiss at some point. Tonight it became a promise.
A vow of our future.
An oath of forgiveness.
A testament to love.
Something new and different was being formed. Nothing like our past, this kiss spoke of desire, freedom, and life . . . salvation. I moaned deep in her mouth, she returned the gesture full force. I hated separating from her, but it needed to be done before things went too far. We have a lifetime for this but tonight I need to hear what changed, why she chose me. I have to understand what she went through. Just remembering her that last day was like ice water being tossed over my body.
Gently holding her face, I place a few kisses over her eyes, her cheeks, her jaw and pull back. “Baby, we need to stop.”
“You always do this, Heath. Why? I thought you wanted this. I thought we both did.”
“More than anything. I have questions.”
“Of course you do, every fucking male in my life thinks my brain holds the answers to cure Ebola.”
“What other men, Bianca?” My body stiffens, and I prepare myself to hear his name.
“My therapist. Slow your roll, Caveman.”
“Therapy? I can only imagine.”
“Oh, I’m his favorite.”
“He told you that?”
“Not in so many words, but I’m good at reading people.” The smirk she wears sets me off. My head tosses back, and I laugh from deep within. “What? He even stocks Airheads for me. Well there was this one time he didn’t but I fixed that.”
“I’m sure you did. God, I’ve missed you.”
“Then why’d you stop kissing me?”
“You know why.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. She turns from me and walks to the couch, kicking off her shoes en route, and I don’t bother picking them up. I know it’s her test for me. I hate how she kicks off her shoes every damn place, but I’m willing to trip over every pair of shoes from now until the day I die if I have her. Looking at her, I see her eyes twinkle in mischief, just waiting for my words of reprimand. Guess she isn’t so good at reading people after all. “Not gonna say a word.”
Her smile lets loose followed by her laughter, and I close my eyes, reveling in it. “If this is gonna be an all-night conversation, I’m going to have a list of demands.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
She shrugs. “Coffee. Sweats. Chocolate.”
“I can do the coffee and sweats, but I don’t have any chocolate here.”
“How are we even compatible?”
“Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you at my door tonight. I was flying to Miami tomorrow to come to you.”
“Really?” I nod. “Guess I need to get my Spidey senses checked, because I didn’t see that one coming.”
I shake my head and head to my room for sweats, and while she is changing I start the coffee. Shit. I don’t have any frou frou creamer for her. I smell the milk at the same time she walks in the kitchen. “I’m not putting milk you have to smell in my coffee.” Her hands are sitting on her hips and her foot is pointed out, in the perfect pout stance.
“That’s probably a good idea because I don’t think it would taste all that good,” I pour the milk down the drain, sure my nose is revolting from the smell.
“Just give me sugar, and we’ll work on the rest.” Hearing the words that she’ll be here in the future sure as hell doesn’t get old.
“Tomorrow I promise we will go grocery shopping.”
“What happened to Mexico?”
“Oh, that’s happening, but don’t you have to get your passport? I’d like a few days of just us.”
“Tomorrow morning . . . grocery store. But words of wisdom. Don’t speak to me in the morning until I’ve had real coffee.”
“I didn’t forget that. You leave a lasting memory in the morning.”
“Not for the faint of heart, huh?”
“Only the strongest survive you and no caffeine.”
“See, I believe in being thorough with everything I do, and what kind of caffeine addict would I be if I didn’t make people cower in fear?”
“Fix your coffee and come on.” I walk to the couch to wait for her. The normalcy of this mundane task shouldn’t cause the excitement it does.
Setting her coffee down, she takes the opposite end of the couch and curls up. “Why so far?”
Closing her eyes, she inhales. “I need to face you when I tell you what’s happened these last six months. About the time before that. I want you to see my face, my honesty, and understand this wasn’t something I took lightly.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Just let me do it my way.” Her vulnerability makes me want to skip this, protect her. I’m essentially going to strip her bare and make her relive all the pain again. The only saving grace is I will be there to build her back up.
“Why didn’t you come after me after Turks and Caicos?” My voice is harsher than I want it to be, but it still hurts.
I see her flinch, her eyes well up. “I wasn’t ready. I knew that day and every day since that it was you. You had my heart, my entire heart. I just couldn’t admit that to myself or anyone else, because doing so hurt someone else.”
“Dakota?”
“Yes. Regardless of our history, at one time I loved him. I always will but not like you think. He represents my past. The good, bad, and ugly. He was there, and I’m sorry if that bothers you, but I can’t change that fact. One day I hope to have that friendship back, but not now.”
“I went through hell, Bianca. Lost. Wounded. I thought I didn’t matter to you.”
“You mattered. Too much. I couldn’t deal with it without putting my past to bed.”
I understand but don’t agree. “What happened the night of the wedding?”
I see her draw her knees up, physically turning into herself, and I lean forward to take her hand. I’ll give her this lifeline. “I snapped. It’s hard to articulate, but I had so many feelings running through my body. It shut down. I had the guilt of letting you go, hurting Dakota. Rejecting him. I just witnessed Callie and Bronson pledge their love, and I knew I had given that up. I kept seeing Dakota and my roommate in my mind, hearing his promises, his apologies. I felt guilty because I couldn’t forgive him. Wait, that’s not true. I didn’t want to forgive him.”
“And now?”
“I’m getting there. I was remembering everything that night. You walking out, what I did to make you doubt me. Not my proudest moment. I walked past a room that reminded me of him, and then walked outside to your memory. I had just told him to let me go, but I refused to let anything go.” She pauses, biting her bottom lip and lets go of my hand. “One of you wasn’t more important in that moment, but it was all swirling in my mind and I blamed myself. In truth, I still do.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m tryi
ng. Work in progress. I’ve let a lot of it go, seeing it more clearly. Anyway, I went to the hotel where I lost my virginity.” I must react in a way that she doesn’t like. “You wanted to know, Heath. I can’t censor myself, it’s all or nothing.”
“Sorry, baby. It’s hard, but I know we need this.”
“So I went as far as asking for the same room. In hindsight, it wasn’t my smartest moment. The memories continued, on constant replay, and I couldn’t stop them. I felt myself sinking farther and farther in despair, and I needed a way for it to stop. I don’t know what triggered me that night, but I looked for a razor or anything sharp in the bathroom. It’s like I was on autopilot, my body knowing what I was craving. I didn’t want to die, I just wanted a moment of peace. I needed a way to release the pain, allow it to escape.” She stands up and paces. I can see her getting agitated, rolling her wrists with her hands fisted.
“You need a break?”
She shakes her head. “I went in the bathroom and saw my reflection. The girl staring back wasn’t me. I could see her flaws, like they were stamped in ink across her face. She was weak . . . feeble. I lashed out, slamming my fist over and over into the mirror trying to make her disappear, trying to break her. The pain I felt in my hands calmed me. So I kept going. With each shard of glass slicing my skin, the release started to come. The bleeding brought peace. Not because I was in danger of bleeding to death, but as if each drop of blood represented my sins, my mistakes. They signified each fractured relationship. With each drop lost it was as if I was releasing myself of that particular burden, that memory of guilt or shame. I remember Bronson and Callie rushing in, the paramedics were there, but after that, I had checked out. My mind shut down, everything went dark, because I couldn’t deal anymore.”
“Are you better?”
She cocks her head to the side and comes back to the couch. I don’t know how to process this. Every instinct is to lecture her, watch her every minute, and protect her, but I know that isn’t what she needs. “Yes. I’m not saying the urge isn’t there when I get overwhelmed or I process as Doc calls it. It’s hard to explain because I wasn’t a cutter or self-harmer, but that night when I figured out it allowed me a false sense of release of my emotions. It became something I craved because there were moments in therapy, with my family and reliving each transgression, I wanted to slice my skin. I wanted to feel the peace that comes with the pain. I had to cut my fingernails because I would dig them in my palm subconsciously.”
“You still want to hurt yourself?”
“Sometimes. I use it as a tool. Obviously not a healthy one, but it’s like it replaces the pain inside of me. Hence, the therapy. Endless hours of therapy.”
All I feel is regret.
I regret leaving that day.
I regret not being there for her every day since.
I regret not being able to protect her.
I’ll never make it up to her, and I want to place her in a bubble and kill anyone who tries to pop it. She could revert to this at anytime, and I’m helpless to stop it.
“Heath, I see everything you’re thinking. Stop worrying. Worrying will end us faster than anything. I can’t change my past; you can’t blame yourself, just like I can’t carry the burden of everyone’s feelings. I did it. I own it, and I’m in the healing stage. It’s like an addiction; even if it’s out of your life, you still have the urge to sample it. I’ll fight it, I’ll talk through it, but I can’t change that it’s there. Is this something you can handle?”
“It’s a part of you, therefore a part of me. I can’t help feeling remorse for not being there. I think a part of me believes that I could have fixed it.”
“You can’t fix me. I’m stronger now and will keep working to get where I need to be. When that day comes, I’ll keep working to stay there.”
“You’ve always been one of the strongest people I know. Determined. Focused. Selfless. You’re everything to me. Promise me if it becomes too much, you’ll talk to me.”
“I promise.”
“I think we’ve had enough for tonight. Lets go to bed.” I sweep her off the couch and cradle her as close to me as I can get her.
“Hold me tonight.”
“Tonight and every night you give me the chance.” Her exposure tonight, craving my touch, my arms around her, showed me a side of her I’ve always wanted. I feel completely wanted and loved in this moment. Pulling the covers back, I settle us both in the bed, and my arms never let go. All night I felt her heartbeat in sync with mine, her breath against my chest, her peacefulness filling the empty place inside of me that’s been waiting for her.
Chapter Seventeen
Bianca
I don’t know what I expected from him, but all I got was acceptance. Complete adoration. His eyes would change from bright, glassy-like to aversion. He was struggling with his own emotions, but in the end, he reached out, stared at me with a wide smile, and held me close all night. I hated to bring everything up from that night. Telling him the aspects involving Dakota hurt both of us, but now it’s in the open and not an anchor weighing us down.
Funny, I thought I’d be timid with him; it’s been almost a year, and I left a lot of debris when I imploded. Seeing his face, hearing his voice, feeling his touch set me at ease. A luxury I hadn’t had in a while, if ever. I had always been battling something within myself, but with Heath, I can lay it all at his feet and he takes my burdens, making me feel weightless.
No judgment.
No ridicule.
Only approval. I wasn’t seeking it. I’m the only one who can determine what works for me . . . he gave it to me anyway. Hearing he got involved with the Costa family I was ready to flee; turned my back ready to flee until I remembered what I was here for, what I was fighting for. I’ve brought myself back from the brink of darkness, but he’s been my light throughout it. Some days it was just a glimmer, a shard of light through the storm clouds but just like his love, it was always constant.
Completeness.
All the components are here.
Love.
Loyalty.
Want.
Desire.
Trust.
Future.
We’ve had an ending. Now beginning again is bringing us full-circle.
A second chance.
I’ve been up for a few minutes, savoring his arms holding me, his scent cocooning me, his hand creating an intricate design on my back, soothing . . . loving. “Where’s my coffee?”
“If you’d release your spider monkey-like grip on me, I can go start it.”
“Hmph. I don’t want that crap from last night. Can’t you run to Starbucks?” I am completely aware my voice is whiny, bordering on nasally, but I don’t care.
“I could, but I don’t want to leave you.”
“I can promise if I don’t have coffee in the next twenty minutes you’ll be running for the hills.”
“You don’t scare me.”
“No, but my alter ego Bertha will. She’s a rabid bitch who craves caffeine. It’s her lifeline.”
He chuckles, “Bertha, huh? Where the hell do you come up with this shit, Bianca?”
“My snark is a natural talent. One can try to recreate it, but they will fail. I’m the master.”
“I’m well aware of that. I’ll go get you Starbucks, you get in the shower, then we can hit the grocery store.”
I gasp. “You’re leaving the house before showering? Has hell frozen over?” He is a stickler for showering, shaving, and dressing before stepping foot in the living room.
“Smart ass. Do you want coffee?”
“Do you want to live?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact that’s at the top of my to-do list. So untangle yourself from me, and I’ll go get coffee. Keep it up, and I’ll have them pump some pumpkin flavor in it.”
I narrow my eyes, scanning the room for something to hit him with. One does not joke in regards to the seriousness of my aversion to all things pumpkin. I give Callie a hard ti
me, but only because she shares in my hatred. “Blasphemy.”
“Give me a kiss, hit the shower, and your coffee will get here faster.” I make quick work of moving off of him, as much as it sucks. I peck his lips and hurry to the bathroom.
After a quick shower with his sub-par shampoo and conditioner, I’m attempting to untangle my hair when I get a brilliant idea. Let’s face it . . . most of my ideas are. I know Callie would have a different opinion, but she would love this one. Running the comb quickly through my hair, I make quick work of drying it. I stare at all his products, then look under the sink. Just as I expected. Most men I know keep baby powder for shaving nicks.
Bellissimo Rilascio (Beautiful Release): The Family Series #3 Page 10