“Hey.”
I stop at the top of the stairs, turning to face Jace in the darkened hallway. For the first time, I truly see a break in Jace’s defenses, and it tears me up inside. I’m pissed at my mom for putting us through this.
“You gonna be okay?” he asks, a strangled smile falls from his face.
“Yes. We need to figure out what we’re gonna do,” I reply, gripping the handrail for support. Even through his own pain, he’s worried about me.
“I know.” He pauses. “I saw Reed waiting outside. Are you coming home tonight?” He asks, fidgeting with his phone.
“I don’t know. We’ll talk later... okay?” I smile warmly.
He nods, rubbing his forehead in frustration like he’s about to say something but decides against it, slipping back into his bedroom. Needing to get out of this place and the negativity that seems to follow me around, I head downstairs. I know I’m stronger than this. I’ve learned to expect the worst, but I stay prepared for something bad to happen all the time. It’s an awful way to live.
I burst through the front doors, practically running to see Reed. I need rescuing. When I find him, he’s leaning up against his truck facing the setting sun, its dying rays splashing across his peaceful face. He’s literally a sight for sore eyes, wearing a white Henley and faded blue jeans. He makes the mere process of breathing look so damn hot. I never needed someone as much as I need him right now.
“Hey, what are you doing?” His smile makes my heart palpitate in my chest, my blood pound. No one has ever made me feel this way. No one and nothing. I feel the warmth of his gaze from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. A smile pulls across my face to match his. God, this feels so right.
“Come here, doll.” I walk into his arms as he brushes my hair away, kissing my neck. “You smell nice tonight.” His breath is hot on my skin, sending a current of heat coursing through my entire body. If I could have my way, we’d run back into my house and up to my room, but not after what just happened. Things are too fresh, an open wound that’s going to need some time to heal.
“Can we go?” I pull away from him giving him a soft kiss.
“Is everything okay?” He raises his eyebrows and opens the door to his truck helping me in.
“Yes, let’s get something to eat. Anything.” I do my best to give him a reassuring smile, but by the way he’s looking at me, he’s not convinced.
“Sure, whatever you want.” He tenderly kisses my cheek and shuts the door. I know I’m hurting him by shutting him out, but I need to figure out what I need to do before I can open up. He holds my hand the entire ride, caressing the top of my hand with his thumb while I gaze out the window. He’s doing his best to give me my space, but how long can I keep him at arm’s length before I completely push him away?
Twenty minutes later, we park, and he kills the engine. Leaning his head against the back of his seat, he turns to me, gazing at me with those eyes that speak to me so intimately before he kisses me. He smiles, hops out of the truck, and comes around to open the door for me.
“Let’s go somewhere fun.” I smile, forgetting about my problems for the moment.
“Sure. I got a cool place where we can watch a game, drink some beer, and eat some greasy food.” He winks, taking my hand as he helps me down and swiftly squeezes me to his chest.
Kenmore Square is a madhouse during baseball season. I’m shocked that he was even able to find a parking space around Fenway Park. The CITGO sign flashes overhead, throwing red and white beams of light into the night. Pedestrian traffic is crazy since there’s a home game against the Texas Rangers tonight. Mobs of people swarm the streets dressed in their team’s color. Overzealous Red Sox fans heckle the Ranger fans while vendors sell souvenirs and memorabilia. He grins like a little boy in a candy store. Throwing his arm over my shoulder, we enter Cask and Flanagan, snatching a small table far enough away from all the chaos and drunks. The game isn’t finished yet, so I can’t imagine what the crowd will be like when the rest of the fans are released into the wild.
“Great choice,” I reply sarcastically. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he slides in across from me. I just want to leap over the table and attack him with kisses. He takes both of my hands and gazes into my eyes for a couple minutes before our waitress drops a couple of menus on the table, mumbling something about being right back to take our order. We don’t pay any attention because we are too focused on each other.
“I need to go to the bathroom. Are you gonna be okay?” He cringes, grabbing his knee as he rises from the table.
“Are you okay?” I ask, extending my hand to him as the pain shoots across his face like a bullet.
“Yes.” He nods. “Just a little tenderness. Nothin’ to worry about. I’ll be right back.” He smiles, or more like flinches. I can’t really tell.
He limps across the room in obvious discomfort. Whatever is going on with his knee seems to be getting worse. I lose him in the crowd and absently flip through the menu, trying to distract myself from what I just discovered at the house about my mom. How are my brother and I going to handle the situation? Does she seriously need some kind of intervention? Has it really gotten to this point? It seems like I’m going from one crisis to the next. I can’t seem to get a handle on my life.
Reed reappears a few minutes later, shouldering through the crowd while balancing a margarita in one hand and a beer in the other. A couple of female Red Sox fans in the crowd try to make eye contact as he makes his way across the room, but his baby blues are focused on me and I get warm all over knowing that he only has eyes for me.
“Just thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.” He grins crookedly, kissing me on the cheek before setting the drinks down on the table. He slides into the booth and leans forward, folds his hands on the table, and hits me with his passionate eyes.
“Who said I wanted a margarita?” I smile warmly, grabbing his hand from across the table.
“Me.” He winks. “If you don’t like it, I’ll share my beer with you,” he says softly. He raises my hand to his warm lips, sending a surge running the length of my body, needing to close my eyes from the extreme pleasure I feel when he touches me.
“I can share,” I whisper, opening my eyes. “But you can’t do things like that to me in public.”
“What do I do to you?” His voice is raspy and deep, his eyes playful. “I want to make you feel good. Is that so wrong?”
“You’re going to spoil me, aren’t you?” I say breathy and light, feeling the heat instantly pool between my legs.
“If you let me, I’ll do more than spoil you.” He whispers, tracing circles on my hand and peeking at me through his lashes. “Soooo... baby, you’re still a mystery to me.” He smiles, using my words from the other night. “Tell me what scares you.”
I smile, lifting the margarita to my lips, and look into his eyes that look like two sparkling gemstones. I take a sip tasting the salt and the sour liquid on my tongue. “Thank you for the drink.” I set it down and poke at the ice cubes with a straw. “So, what scares me?” I laugh softly.
“Yeah. I find a damsel in distress sexy.” He smiles, leaning over the table motioning with his finger. “Come here.”
“What...?” I answer, frowning. I eagerly concede to his request.
“Salt.” He whispers. Taking my chin in his hand, he kisses the salt off my lips. “There.” He sighs, sitting back with a satisfied smile. “You always taste so good.”
“You’re so romantic.” I smile, falling back in the booth. My tenacity is slowly fading or it may already have disappeared. “You.” I reply.
“You what?” He asks, grinning charmingly.
“To answer your question. You. Us. We.” I gesture between us. “Scares me.” I say. He tilts his head contemplating my words.
“I thought you were gonna say something like spiders.” He laughs, pinching his brow. “But, why me?”
“It’s all so new,” I say, gazing across the table at him. I
want to release this burden, and stop hanging on to whatever past is hurting and haunting me. Won’t I suffer more if I let whatever’s happening right now with him slip through my fingers?
“I told you that you have nothing to worry about with me.” He counters, leaning his head against the booth and running his fingers through his thick hair.
“It’s me,” I say, twirling the straw in my drink.
“Doll, I told you before, I’m not going to hurt you.” He leans forward, taking my hand in his and tracing the outline of my fingers. “I can take my time if that’s what you need. I want to and I have been.”
His eyes never leave mine as he softly kisses the tips of my fingers. I was comfortable with Cane for two years. And, here I am with a man I barely know, someone so unpredictable, but it feels so perfect in so many ways. It seems too good to be true, and I don’t know if my heart can withstand another disaster if I’m wrong. I want to be right this time.
“I like you.” I sigh. “A lot and that’s what scares me.”
“I know that your break up with Cane is fresh in your mind, but I’ll never push you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. What can I do to make you believe me, to trust me?” He scratches his head anxiously. “To tell you the truth, I’m scared of this, too. What we have and what I feel for you, I’ve never felt before. I want to make sure I’m doing everything right with you. Can you believe me?”
Before I can answer, a group of rowdy Texas Rangers’ fans diverts our attention. They are arguing back and forth at the bar, yelling something about the Dallas Cowboys. He must have caught something in the conversation because Reed immediately lowers his head.
“Do you know them or something?” I ask glancing over.
“No. Just heard them say something about the Cowboys.” He chuckles, but there’s no humor in his eyes but a hardness. Fear.
I don’t get a chance to ask him what’s wrong. The loud group barrels through the crowd and heads toward our table with beers in hand. “Holy shit! Landon Hunter?” I look at the drunk and then back at Reed, whose body noticeably tenses. He slyly shifts his head in another direction, trying to hide his face by rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, man it’s you! No fucking way! I knew it when you walked away from the bar. Can’t mistake you man!” He whistles in obvious amazement.
I look across the table, watching Reed’s gorgeous features grow tight, and his nostrils flaring. “Nah, I think you got the wrong guy.” He smiles, fidgeting in his seat.
“No, man, it’s you. Damn! You can’t say you’re not. Texas A&M. You were the star wide receiver, drafted by the Dallas Cowboys in the first round senior year! Then you blew out your knee. How’s your knee anyway?” His eyes grow wide as he takes another swig of his beer waiting for Reed to give him an answer as if they are old college buddies or something.
I snap my head back at Reed at the last comment. How would this person know anything about his knee?
“I told you, man! It’s not me. Now can you leave my girlfriend and me alone?” His voice rips across the room. The vein in his neck bulges, his knuckles grow white as he grips the edge of the table. Several people turn around to see what is going on. I’ve never seen him angry before, and it scares me. I’m not sure if I should hug him or run.
“Whatever man, I’m not crazy. I know my football,” he answers, turning to his friend. “Hey, Chance, isn’t that him?” he questions. His friend doesn’t respond, rather he grabs his friend’s arm and starts to pull him away from our table.
“Come on man, you’re drunk. Leave them alone.” He shoots us an apologetic look trying to restrain his drunk friend.
“Dude, it’s him!” It takes two guys to pull him away from our table and across the room, but you can still hear him arguing with his friends that it’s him. Whoever him is. Shaking his head, Reed grabs his beer, finishes it off, and slowly twirls the bottle under his fingers as the tension in his shoulders gradually disappears. “Some people shouldn’t drink.” He chuckles softly, cautiously eyeing me from under his lashes.
“Is that all it is? Landon Hunter? Who’s that?” I ask, looking him in the eyes. He laughs softly as he stares down at his hands. I slowly reach for his chin and raise his eyes to me. “Do you know something about that? Do you know someone named Landon Hunter?” He’s deathly quiet. “Reed?” For the first time, he appears powerless and weak sitting across from me unable to answer my questions.
“Doll...” His voice is barely a whisper.
“What the fuck?!” I gasp, feeling the weight of Reed’s silence. I drop my hand from his chin. “You are, aren’t you?” I whisper.
“Doll, wait.” I grab her arm seeing the fire in her eyes combined with the sadness I saw earlier. It makes me want to kick myself for doing this to her. “Let me explain.” I sound like a fucking asshole.
“You want to know what scares me now?” She whispers angrily, turning to face me. “This scares me.” She chokes, looking down at my hand grasping her wrist and back up at me. “Who are you? Landon? Reed?” She sighs, pulling her arm away from me. She gets lost in the crowd. Fuck. I curse to myself as I bolt from the table, trying to run after her, but my damn knee doesn’t want to cooperate. I endure the pain and limp across the bar, not wanting to lose sight of her as she walks outside.
What the fuck? This is the bullshit I get myself into. This isn’t how I wanted it to go down. It’s not how I wanted her to find out who I am. I should’ve known that there was going to be a random crazed fan from Texas that would recognize me from my college days at Texas A&M. My mug was plastered everywhere, big man on campus, going to and winning four National Championships, nominated MVP each season while I was there. What fucking guy doesn’t have twenty-four hour ESPN Sports Center? My whole damn football career was televised every damn day of the week. That was the price I had to pay, the crap I had to put up with to play.
That drunk forced my hand tonight. It’s all true, every single word that she heard. I just had my chance to tell her everything, and I didn’t do it. I’m risking so damn much by doing this, and I know it. That’s how I’ve always been. I like to gamble with every part of my life, even with my relationships. I don’t know how much more she can take if she reacted like this tonight.
I watch her from a distance for a couple of minutes, standing up against the side of the building, twisting her brown hair with her graceful fingers. When I finally walk up to her, I gently turn her face to me. There’s a tortured look in her eyes, and I’m the one who’s fucking responsible for it. I can’t stand to see her like this. I wish I could rewind, go back, and make things right.
“What?” She whispers looking up at me. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?” She inhales and looks away from me. I need to fix this now. I swallow hard trying to find my voice to speak, unsure of where to start. I didn’t want it to be like this.
“Baby, remember when you asked me why I left Texas?” I say, taking her cheeks in my hand. She stiffens, slowly dropping her eyes to her chest. “Look at me. Talk to me.” My heart just collapses in my chest.
“Yes, I remember. But you neglected to tell me other things apparently,” she says softly. “Like the fact that you played football, that you were drafted by the Dallas Cowboys.” She locks her eyes with mine. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t share these things with me.”
“It’s still hard for me to talk about,” I whisper, jamming my hands through my hair. “I wasn’t drafted. I blew out my knee before that could happen.” I inhale, wanting to forget the fucking memory. “It was one of the last games of the season and Coach wanted to take me out, but I asked him to keep me in. I should have listened to him.” I swallow hard, feeling the knot in my throat choking the life out of me.
She takes my fist, unclenching my hand, and lacing her fingers with mine. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispers. Look at her—so strong and forgiving, trusting me with her heart. I don’t deserve her.
“I thought that the further away I was from it, the easier it
would be to move on and focus on getting better without all of the attention.” But there’s more. “I didn’t want to think about it, but I know that I’m going back.” She flicks her eyes back up at me and squeezes my hand. “I’m going to try out again. My knee will be good as new. I need this.” But, I need you more. “I have to play. I can’t see my life without football. I’m sorry for keeping this from you.”
“I can understand that need, that drive. I only wish you would’ve told me. I would never ask you to give up something you love.” The pain in her eyes tears at me. I let her down. I clutch her hand, hoping that somehow my touch will make some of the hurt go away.
I can’t respond.
“Your name,” she whispers. “What about your name?” She closes her eyes for a second, sighing deeply as if she’s bracing herself for the worst. There’s nothing I can do to ease her mind, but just tell her, come clean.
“Yeah, that.” My chest seizes at the sound of my old name. “Landon is my middle name and Hunter was my dad’s name before I took my mom’s maiden name. My momma sacrificed everything for my sister and me—everything. When my career started to take off in college, I legally changed it to honor her. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be where I am.” Her hazel eyes soften, and my heart breaks a little seeing her this way, conflicted and torn all because of me. “We both have secrets that we don’t want to tell. I won’t lie to you, but I can’t tell you everything. Not now. And based on the look in your eyes, I know you’re keeping some painful secrets, too. I accept that. I won’t pressure you to talk about them until you’re ready.” I rest my hands against the building to protect her and to keep her close to me.
“There’s so much we don’t know about each other. I knew when I met you that you were different, dangerous, but I didn’t care. I knew I needed you.” A smile turns up at the corner of her mouth and I start to say something, but she raises her finger to my lips to finish. “It’s like jumping without a safety net, though. I know that no matter what happens, you’ll always be there to catch me.”
Breaking Elle Page 24