Tempting

by Crystal Kaswell

  "I won't."

  "How can you promise that?"

  "Did you kill someone?"

  "No."

  "Do you really want to fuck Dean?"

  My laugh breaks up the tension in my shoulders. "Murder and lust for Dean are equally bad in your eyes?"

  "Fuck no." He presses his palm into my stomach to pull me closer. "Lust for Dean is a million times worse."

  "Really?"

  "You have no fucking idea what it does to me, the way he flirts with you."

  But I do. I see the way his jaw cricks, the way his fists form, the way his eyes fill with jealousy. "He does it to get to you."

  "It works."

  "It did work. We're here."

  "You're giving him credit for this?"

  "Well... doesn't he deserve a little?"

  "Maybe." The playfulness falls from his voice. It's back to soft and sweet. "But I'm not giving him credit."

  "That doesn't seem fair."

  "What is?"

  "True." None of this is fair. Not that I need a pill to feel okay. Not that Grandma is sick. Not that my parents are middle class when Brendon and Emma's are rich.

  But it's not fair that their parents are gone. Or that I was born smart. Or with a nice figure.

  Or that he's almost mine.

  That really isn't fair and it's all in my favor.

  "Life isn't fair. But you can't use that as an argument for everything," I say. "Otherwise, what's the point of fairness? Of justice?"

  "You're such a smart girl, Kay."

  "Why don't I like the sound of that?"

  "You should." He intertwines his fingers with mine. "There's nothing you can tell me that will change the way I look at you."

  I shake my head. "You can't promise that."

  "Maybe I lack imagination, but I can't think of a single thing."

  Because he'd never think of this. I have everyone convinced I have my shit together. And, mostly, I do.

  It's just, sometimes I don't.

  I've been healthy for a long time now. But that can't last forever.

  "I don't want you to promise that." It's more that I know he can't. That it will hurt too much if he does. "I don't want you to promise you won't leave. Because you might. And I don't want you to stay out of obligation."

  "Kay..."

  "Don't tell me there's nothing. Because you don't know what this is."

  "Okay." His voice is some tone I've never heard. An understanding one.

  He drags his fingertips back up my arm. All the way to my shoulder.

  It's funny. I'm naked. I've been naked this whole conversation, but I feel like I'm about to strip out of everything.

  This might scare him away.

  I might lose him forever.

  I suck a breath between my teeth. My exhale is heavy enough my hands shake. No. They're still shaking.

  I'm shaking.

  "I..." Too many words rise up in my throat. They knock together. They take over my head and my lips and my heart.

  Then he's running his fingers through my hair with that impossibly soft touch.

  And I'm still terrified to lose him.

  But it's scarier, the thought of being alone with this forever.

  "I don't know a better way to say this." My hands are shaking, but I press on. "I'm broken."

  He doesn't say anything. He just combs his fingers through my hair again.

  "I have depression. I guess that's normal. Relatively. But I... last year. That was when it started. It was before Grandma's heart attack. It wasn't because of anything. Everything got hard. Heavy. Food didn't taste as good. My favorite books no longer entertained. It was like I was moving through water. It took so much energy to make dinner or clean my room. Or even get out of bed in the morning. I couldn't sleep, but I didn't want to do anything else."

  His fingertips brush my neck. My shoulders.

  I can't see his face. I have no idea how he's taking this. But I can't wait to know.

  I need to get this out. All of it.

  "Then I started having these thoughts. I'd be driving Mom's car up the 405 and I'd think about crashing into the divider. Or I'd see sleeping pills in the cabinet and think about downing the bottle. Or look at some tall building, and try to figure out if I could actually get to the roof. I didn't make plans to kill myself. But the thought of it—of not hurting anymore—it was tempting. And I... I felt like everyone would be better off if I wasn't dragging them down. Then I'd think about how sad my parents would be and I'd feel guilty and that would only make it worse."

  He pulls me closer.

  "I understand now. It's my messed-up brain chemistry. I take medication. I see a therapist. She helped me understand a lot of it. And the medications stops most of the thoughts. But not always. Sometimes they flood my head, and I can't stop thinking I'll never be good enough. Sometimes, things get heavy again. It's short phases now. But it might be longer one day. Medications stop working. Life gets stressful. And I... one day, those voices might be loud enough to convince me to do it."

  I'm still shaking.

  I want, so badly, to turn around and look in his eyes. To figure out what he's thinking. But I can't. If it's bad, I'll lose my nerve. Then I'll never get this out.

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "I need you to know. It's not a phase. It's forever. I'm always going to be broken—"

  "You're not broken."

  "You can use another word, but it will mean the same thing. My brain is fucked up. It will always be fucked up. I'm always going to be fighting the voice that tells me I'm worthless. That everyone would be better off if I wasn't around. Can you really love someone like that? Someone who might fall and end everything?"

  "Are you thinking about it now?"

  "No. It's been awhile since I've really considered it. But I still have fleeting thoughts. And I always will. I just... I want you to know the reality. I see how you look at me. Like I'm heaven sent. But I'm not."

  Slowly, he turns me around. His hand goes to my chin. He tilts my head so we're face-to-face.

  I keep my gaze on his chest for as long as I can stand it.

  My eyes meet his.

  He's... I don't know. I just don't.

  He cups the back of my head with his hand. "Thank you."

  What?

  I...

  Huh?

  "It's an honor, you sharing that with me."

  What? I blink a few times. Everything gets blurry.

  I'm crying.

  "You... you don't want to leave?" A tear rolls down my cheek and falls off my jaw. It lands on my shoulder.

  "Never."

  "But I... You... You hate complicated."

  "No. I just never met someone worth complicated." He stares back into my eyes. "Are you taking care of yourself? Taking your meds? Seeing your therapist?"

  "Yeah."

  "And everything else?"

  I nod. "Aren't... aren't you scared?"

  "I'm always scared of bad shit happening to you. But this, no—I'm not scared that you have depression. Or that you've been suicidal."

  "But one day... I might... what if I..."

  "You think about it that much?"

  "I did. It was scary. I didn't trust myself. I guess I still don't."

  He stares back into my eyes. "Nobody can promise they'll be okay forever. I don't care that you need a little chemical help, Kay. You're still the sun in my sky. You're gonna struggle, yeah, but I want to be there for that. I want to be the person holding you up when shit is bad."

  "I... you... you're not leaving?"

  "No."

  I stare back at him, blinking away tears until my vision is blurry.

  He plants his palm on my check and wipes my eyes. "Are these happy or sad?"

  "Both. And everything else. I... I just can't. I thought... I thought you'd leave."

  He shakes his head. "There isn't a single part of me that wonders if you're good enough for me."

  "Really?"

  "
Not even a molecule."

  The weight lifts off my chest.

  My hands stop shaking.

  I...

  He...

  Maybe things will be okay.

  He leans in to press his lips to mine.

  It's an I love you.

  We haven't said the words.

  But I can feel it.

  He knows.

  And he's staying.

  And he loves me anyway.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Brendon

  Kaylee steps onto the stairs with the world's most content smile. She's already in some adorable sundress. One with a blue floral print and thin straps.

  Her eyes brighten as they meet mine.

  I have to force myself to direct my attention back to my sister.

  This is giving too much away.

  And I'm not doing enough to check in with Em. The school year isn't as big a deal for her—she started college officially back in June with summer courses, and she's only going part-time—but it's still a transition.

  "You've been working more." I snap my piece of bacon in half and take a bite. It's salty, chewy, rich. Perfect.

  "I like money." Emma stirs another splash of cream into her coffee. "I'm not going to suffer another 'you should be in school full-time lecture,' so if that's where you're going you can save your breath." She turns to watch Kay step into the main room. "Where are you going dressed like that?"

  Kay's laugh is nervous. She twirls a long, blond strand around her finger. "With my hair a mess and no makeup?"

  "That's a mess?" Emma shakes her head, sending crimson hair in every direction. "Life is unfair."

  "True." Kay's eyes meet mine. Her smile gets wider. She's stupid happy.

  Last night meant a lot to her.

  I'm still turning it over. I'm going to be turning it over for a long fucking time.

  It terrifies me, the thought of Kay doing anything to hurt herself. It hits me like a punch to the gut.

  But, mostly, I'm humbled by her sharing that with me.

  Fuck, I want to find every place she hurts and destroy it.

  I don't think she's broken. But if she is, I want to be the glue that holds her together. I want that as much as I want the shop to succeed. As much as I want Em to thrive. As much as I want anything.

  "There's more eggs and bacon in the pan." I nod to the kitchen. "And coffee."

  "I'll make a tea." She nearly floats into the kitchen.

  Is that all from spilling her secret?

  Fuck, I can't imagine the weight of that.

  Taking all that on her own—she's so fucking strong, so fucking brave.

  Emma turns back to me. "Really? No lecture?"

  "You want to stay part-time." I bring my mug to my lips. Damn. This coffee is good. Nutty. Rich. With that hint of toffee. It's the best fucking coffee I've ever had. Or maybe that's the smile on Kay's face. The honor and responsibility of her placing all her trust in me.

  "Nothing about how I should work a little harder and get done in four years instead of languish for eight?" Emma takes a long sip. "Really?"

  "You've worked retail for two years. You know what it's like. You know you'll be doing that forever if you don't go to college." The coffee warms me everywhere. No, that's Kay. "If you want to own a boutique one day, you'll need those business classes. Trust me."

  "I do. It's just..." She scoops her eggs onto her fork. "Weird that you're being reasonable."

  "I'm always reasonable." I eat the other half of my bacon slice.

  Emma laughs so hard she slaps the table. "No." She turns to Kaylee, now pouring hot water into her mug. "Back me up here."

  Kay laughs. "Always isn't the right word."

  "Yeah. It's weird. It's like... like you're happy." Emma stares at me like she's picking me apart.

  "I am." I really fucking am.

  Emma tilts her head to one side. "Why? You're never happy."

  "I own a quarter of the shop. We're putting a new sign up next Friday. With a logo I designed. We're getting rid of all the old shit that doesn't suit us. I finally talked Ryan into interviewing another artist or two." My eyes meet Kay's as she takes her seat. And that. Her. "Why wouldn't I be happy?"

  "Because you're Brendon." Emma brings another scoop of eggs to her lips. Chews. Swallows. "It's good. I'm happy for you. Just weird."

  "He's always weird." Kaylee smiles at me. "That isn't new."

  "True." Emma turns to Kay. "And you're happy too. Satisfied. Like you... like that hairstyle is really working for you."

  "It is." Kaylee dunks her tea bag. "It's great."

  "When did you... try it out yesterday? Weren't you working all night?" Emma asks.

  Kay giggles. "After."

  "After. Hmm." Emma shoots me a stop eavesdropping look.

  I should let them talk. I finish my last bite. Even these eggs taste better than usual. The room is brighter, the air is sweeter, the coffee's bolder.

  Everything is better.

  I bring my plate to the sink. Finish my last cup of coffee. Watch Emma and Kaylee giggle over their incredibly obvious metaphor.

  "I have an appointment." I look to Emma. "You're working this afternoon?"

  "Yeah, till closing. I'll get dinner at work." Emma turns to Kay. "Are you closing again?"

  Kaylee nods. "It's the best shift in the summers."

  "But it means I don't see you weekends," Emma says.

  "Except early." Kaylee motions to the table.

  "Yeah, except early." Emma leans in to whisper to Kay.

  The two of them giggle.

  "Keep an eye on her, all right, Kay?" I grab my keys and take a step toward the door.

  "Sure." Kay smiles back at me.

  "Hey!" Emma feigns offense. "Why don't you ever tell me to watch Kay?"

  "Keep an eye on Kay. All right?" I ask.

  Emma laughs. "Perfect."

  I slide into my shoes and I slip out the door.

  And I nearly float to the fucking shop.

  I wait until I'm inside to text Kay.

  Brendon: I'll be done at noon. I'll meet you at home.

  Kaylee: You think I wait around for you all day?

  Brendon: I think you read, study, or watch TV when Emma is at work.

  Kaylee: Maybe.

  Brendon: Aren't you writing a novel?

  Kaylee: Yeah, but not right now. It's the weekend. I need a little incentive if you want me at your beck and call.

  Brendon: Trust me. You want to meet me at noon.

  Kaylee: For...?

  Brendon: For a surprise.

  Kaylee: Which is?

  Brendon: I'll see you at noon.

  Kaylee: Maybe. Or maybe I'll be out.

  Brendon: You won't.

  Kaylee: How do you know?

  Brendon: You can't come on my cock if I'm not there.

  Kaylee taps her fingers against the dash. "You really aren't going to tell me?"

  "You struggle with the concept of surprise," I tease.

  "No. I just like knowing." She grabs the aux cable and plugs it into her phone. A moment later S&M is pouring from the speakers. She looks to me with a coy smile. "Who are you imagining?"

  I arch a brow.

  "Me or Dean."

  "You." I leave one hand on the wheel and place the other on her leg. I rub her soft skin with my finger.

  It makes her shudder.

  Fuck, the moan that falls off her lips is distracting.

  All that heavy shit is still in the air. We'll have to ride through the storm soon. But not yet. She's facing reality as soon as she gets off that plane.

  I want to make the next two weeks—well, nearly two weeks—as blissful as possible.

  Rhianna purrs about her love of whips and chains.

  I slide my hand under Kaylee's dress. Higher and higher, until my thumb is brushing the edges of her panties.

  Her fingers dig into the seat. "You're a tease."

  "You just figuring that out?"

&nb
sp; She shakes her head. "It's more obvious some times than others."

  I can't help but smile. She does that to me. She makes me stupid happy.

  I turn my attention back, but I keep my hand on her thigh, my thumb tracing the edge of her panties.

  Marvin Gaye serenades us.

  I turn on Santa Monica Boulevard.

  Then into the little strip mall on the right and grab the first spot I find.

  Kaylee looks around carefully. First, the donut shop. Then the juice place. Then our destination. Then the liquor store. "I don't really like donuts."

  "Guess again."

  She motions to the juice place. "Lunch."

  "No."

  Her eyes go to our destination. A Perfect Romance. "Brendon Kane. You... you're not..."

  "I am."

  I pull my hand away.

  Her sigh is heavy. Needy. "You... you're... why..."

  I undo my seatbelt and step out of the car. Fuck, there are a million reasons why. "Because I want to be sure you're thinking of me every fucking night."

  She gets out of the car and presses the door shut. Her eyes find mine. They're still dumbfounded.

  "You don't have a vibrator."

  Her cheeks flush. "People can hear you."

  I hit the lock and slide my keys into my pocket. "People should hear me." I slide my arm around her waist. "People should know how much I love it when you come."

  Her blush deepens. "You... you do this on purpose."

  "Maybe."

  "Yeah. You do." She rests her head on my shoulder. "I'm not sure why I talk to you."

  "You want people knowing."

  "No." She shakes her head. "I... aren't you supposed to do this somewhere dark and quiet? Or online? It's the twenty-first century."

  I lead her toward the store, pull the door open for her. "I want it now." I lean in to whisper in her ear. "I want to go straight home and use whatever we buy to make you come until you pass out."

  "Oh." Her blush spreads to her chest. Her teeth sink into her lower lip. "I guess that's acceptable."

  "Just acceptable?"

  She nods. "Don't push your luck."

  "My luck?"

  "Yeah. Your luck." Her eyes go wide as she takes in the store. She presses her lips together. "I... I'm on birth control. If you... if you're sure you're clean."

  "I got tested last month." A few days before her birthday. Three months earlier than scheduled. Yeah, I knew exactly what I was doing. And it was fucked. But at least I'm safe. "There hasn't been anyone for a long time."