Tempting

by Crystal Kaswell

  I shake my head. "Joy Division."

  He chuckles but his eyes stay sad. "Call me when you get in. And let me know how your grandma is doing."

  "Of course." I wrap my arms around his waist. "You'll let me know what happens with Em? Whatever it is?"

  "Yeah."

  "Good." I rise to my tiptoes. My eyelids flutter closed as I press my lips to his. He tastes good. Like coffee and like Brendon. I don't usually like the taste of coffee, but it's another thing that makes me think of him.

  I pull back with a sigh.

  My eyes fix on his. They're like coffee, his eyes. Rich. Dark. Deep.

  He's here with me.

  Holding my hand.

  Kissing me off.

  He's everything.

  "I don't want to say goodbye, but I guess I have to." I rise to my tiptoes and kiss him again. It's not enough. I need more of him. I need all of him.

  This time, he's the one who pulls back. He runs his fingers through my hair. His voice gets soft. "Me either."

  "I... I'll miss you." I lean into his touch. Words rise up in my throat. Ones I've been avoiding.

  I try to swallow them down.

  I kiss him one more time. Something to keep my lips occupied.

  But that doesn't work.

  I'm shaking when I pull back.

  My eyes meet his.

  And those words spill from my lips.

  "Brendon, I love you."

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Kaylee

  Shit.

  My cheeks flush.

  My stomach drops.

  Not the right time.

  Not at all.

  And the look in his eyes.

  That's not the right look.

  "Kay..." His eyes go to the floor.

  "You don't have to say it. It just came out. I, uh... I mean, I do love you. But it's okay if you're not sure yet. Or if you're not there yet."

  "No." He runs a hand through his hair. Slowly, his eyes meet mine. "Kay..."

  No. That's not the right tone. "What do you mean Kay...?"

  "Don't worry about us. Go see your grandma."

  I shake my head. "No. The way you said that... it's like there isn't an us." I stare into his eyes. I pick apart the way they turn down. It's barely anything, but it's enough. It's bad. "If there's not an us—"

  "There shouldn't be."

  "What?" My heart rises in my throat. There has to be an us. Otherwise, I really don't have anything.

  "Em was right. I'm supposed to protect you from guys like me."

  "Em said that?"

  "Yeah. But that doesn't matter." His voice gets stronger. Like he's sure. "I am supposed to protect you from guys like me."

  "What the fuck does that mean? You're strong and sweet and supportive—"

  "I'm not the kind of guy you should love." Hurt streaks over his face. It seeps into his voice. But he stays strong. Confident.

  "No, Brendon. You're exactly the kind of guy I should love."

  He shakes his head. "I'm not."

  "Well too fucking bad. I do love you."

  "You shouldn't."

  "And you should love me?"

  "Kay—"

  "No, you don't get to say my name like that." My fingers curl into fists. He's still standing there all strong and sure and stoic. Like he's doing this for me. But that's bullshit. This is the last thing I need. "Am I the kind of girl someone should love?"

  "Kay—"

  "Don't say my name like that!" My voice rises. It's too loud for the airport. People are staring. Even a security guard. I swallow hard. I force myself to be quiet. "How am I a girl you should love?"

  "You're smart, strong—"

  "I think about hurting myself."

  "That's different."

  "How?"

  "It just is." He plants one hand on my shoulder. Stares back into my eyes.

  His stupid gesture is calming.

  I hate that it's calming.

  How can he calm me when he's ripping my heart out?

  I stare back at him, daring him to explain, daring him to see what an idiot he's being.

  He doesn't.

  "It isn't different." I try to whisper, but my voice is still too loud. "If you're no good then neither am I. My brain is broken. I think about hurting myself. I might one day."

  "You won't."

  "You don't know that."

  "I know enough."

  I shake my head. "Why should anyone love a girl who might swallow a bottle of sleeping pills?"

  He stares back at me.

  "Is that it? You don't want to be with someone like me?"

  "No."

  "You could at least have the courtesy to be honest when you break my heart." I take a step backward. "Don't tell me this is for me. Because it's not. I know what I want. I want you."

  "Kay—"

  "DON'T SAY MY NAME LIKE THAT!" I press my lips together. Fuck. I'm causing a scene. I need to get shit under control or I'm going to be escorted to some scary secret TSA room. "Tell me the truth, Brendon. Is this really because I shouldn't be with you? Or is it because you could never love someone like me?"

  "No, Kay. This is because I love you."

  "Bullshit." I stare into his eyes, begging him to budge.

  But he doesn't.

  He just stares back. Apology streaks his expression, but he stays silent.

  It feels like we stare forever.

  Eventually, he takes a step backward. "You're going to miss your flight."

  "But... but you love me."

  "It doesn't matter."

  "Of course it does."

  "You shouldn't be with me." His voice is dripping with hurt, but it's still confident. Sure.

  "I get to decide that."

  "Yeah. But I do too." He takes a step backward. "I'm sorry, Kay. Have a safe flight."

  Then he turns and leaves.

  And takes my heart with him.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Brendon

  I sit in my car for a fucking eternity.

  I check the flight notice again and again.

  Boarding.

  Boarded.

  On its way.

  I turn my car on. Plug my cell into the stereo. Blast something by The Descendants.

  The parking fee is a fucking crime.

  But I don't care.

  I take the streets to Lincoln and I drive. I drive until the street becomes Pacific Coast Highway proper. I drive until I'm curving around Pacific Palisades then the Malibu hills.

  It doesn't help my thoughts come together.

  I keep seeing the hurt on Kaylee's face.

  Like I ripped her heart in half.

  I was sure I was right. That hurting her was a necessary evil. That she shouldn't be with me much less love me.

  But the more I drive, the less sense it makes.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Kaylee

  I rest my head against the window and watch the clouds roll by.

  It's strange. I'm empty. But my thoughts have nowhere to go.

  My head is only more of a mess.

  Brendon insisting I shouldn't love him.

  Emma calling me a liar.

  Grandma promising she's fine.

  I pull out my Kindle and try to read. The words are fuzzy. They're nothing. They're pointless.

  This isn't happening.

  I find my journal—the one he bought for me. And I put my purple pen to the page.

  None of this makes sense.

  I let my thoughts pour from my fingers.

  And I don't stop until I don't feel anything anymore.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Kaylee

  Mom is waiting at baggage claim.

  Her eyes are puffy. Red. She's been crying.

  From the way she's looking at me, I'm pretty sure mine are the same.

  Fuck.

  I knew things might be bad.

  But not this bad.

  Mom makes small talk.

&
nbsp; And I let her.

  Until we take an early exit.

  She turns on an unfamiliar street.

  Then down another.

  The hospital comes into view.

  "Mom..." I place my hands in my lap. "What... What the hell?"

  She pulls into the hospital parking lot. "I can explain."

  "How can you explain?" Grandma is supposed to be okay. Okay people aren't in the hospital. That's a fucking fact.

  "Your Grandma had another heart attack last week." Mom pulls into an end space and turns the car off. Her hands stay glued to the steering wheel. Her gaze stays on the windshield. "We knew you were coming. We figured it would be better to wait until you were here."

  "And all the stuff you've said the last few months about her being okay?"

  "She was okay—"

  "Mom." I blink and a tear catches on my lashes. I don't have the emotional energy for this. For anything. I need a million hours of sleep. "Tell me the truth. How long have things been bad?"

  "Bad is relative."

  "She's dying."

  "She..."

  "Mom. Tell me the truth. Is Grandma dying?"

  She turns to me, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her lips quiver.

  Mom usually looks so put together. Pretty. Trendy.

  But she's in leggings and a hoodie. Her hair is in a ponytail. Her only makeup is a little lipstick. It's not like her.

  "Mom..." My voice cracks. I know the answer, but I need to hear her say it.

  "I'm sorry, Kay." She shakes her head. "We thought it would be better if you didn't know. It's what Mom wanted."

  "But—"

  "She didn't want you to see her like this."

  "But—"

  "She only has a few weeks, max. Or maybe a few days. It's hard to say."

  My hands are shaking again. A tear stings my eye. It's hot and salty. Then there's another. Another.

  Words rise up in my throat.

  But what is there to say?

  Grandma is dying.

  There isn't a word in the universe that will make that better.

  I unclick my seatbelt and move toward Mom.

  She wraps her arms around me. "I'm so sorry, Kay. We thought we were protecting you."

  "Well stop." I tug at her hoodie. "Stop making decisions for me. Stop protecting me. I'm an adult and I can tell you what I can handle. Or what I want. Or who I love."

  "Kay?"

  "He... he isn't here."

  "Who?"

  "He loves me, but he won't be with me."

  "Who loves you, Kay?"

  "It doesn't matter." Not anymore. I have to get through this without him. That's his decision. It's probably for the best. Otherwise, I'll fall more in love with him.

  I stop chocking back sobs.

  I hold onto my mom and I cry until I can't cry anymore.

  Chapter Fifty

  Brendon

  This is taking every ounce of my concentration.

  It's a simple tattoo. Black line art. Three colors. No shading.

  Fuck, it's like I'm apprenticing again.

  I pull back to check on my client. Allison. She's a tall girl with short hair and a quiet smile. Her boyfriend is sitting opposite her, holding her hand, whispering words of comfort.

  "You okay?" Sweat is gathering on my brow. It's not the heat. The air conditioning's hum is competing with the buzz of Walker's gun.

  It's the devil on my shoulder, telling me I fucked up.

  And the angel arguing that this is for the best, no matter how badly it hurts right now.

  Allison grunts a yes.

  Her boyfriend smiles at her. Squeezes her hand. "It looks awesome."

  "Yeah?" She turns toward the mirror to catch a glimpse of the ink forming on her shoulder blade. It's two dinosaurs facing each other with a heart between them. She must be able to see because her eyes light up. "That's perfect." She looks to me. "How much longer?"

  "Ten minutes." It's a small piece and we're halfway there.

  She nods. "Ten minutes. I can do that." She lies back down. Rests her head on her hands. "Do you get a lot of people saying it doesn't hurt?"

  All the time. "Mostly guys."

  "They think it makes them tough?" she asks.

  "Yeah." I check the work. The green dino is done. Now it's the pink one and the red heart between them. "You know men."

  She looks to her boyfriend with a smile. "I do."

  "Hey." He folds his arms. Throws her a look of faux irritation. "I told you it would hurt like a bitch."

  "Stay still." My voice drops to that demanding tone. Damn. I don't have enough focus to keep shit professional.

  She doesn't notice. She's too busy smiling at her boyfriend.

  "You ready?" I hold her back in place with my free hand.

  "Ready," she says.

  I get to work on the pink dinosaur. She lies there, squeezing her boyfriend's hand as he distracts her with conversation about their upcoming vacation.

  Usually, I love it when the boyfriend comes. Wife, daughter, mom, best friend, coworker—it doesn't matter. Talking keeps people distracted from the pain. If they're here alone, that's my job.

  I should appreciate it more right now—I don't have a shred of comfort in me.

  But, fuck, I hate seeing them happy.

  I hate the way they're smiling at each other.

  I hate that the sun is shining.

  I hate the music flowing from our speakers.

  I hate that Kay is hurting alone.

  It only takes eight minutes to finish. I clean and bandage her, go through my aftercare routine, take her to the register.

  She throws her arms around me. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

  The boyfriend shoots me a friendly nod. "Thanks for taking care of her." He offers his hand.

  I shake. "Just doing my job." I motion to Leighton, standing behind the counter. "Will you get them some A+D ointment?"

  "Sure. But you should—" She motions to Walker, leaning against the wall, staring at me like he's thinking about how he's gonna deck me.

  On anyone else, that expression would be you're mildly annoying. But Walker never shows that he's pissed. Or hurt. Or annoyed even.

  That look might be I'm gonna kill you.

  He waits until the clients are out the door to approach me.

  His eyes narrow.

  His voice drops to a threatening tone. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

  "A lot. You need to be more specific," I say.

  Leighton clears her throat. "We have customers."

  Walker shakes his head I don't care. "What the fuck is this?" He shows off his cell. With a text from Emma.

  Emma: Kaylee said Brendon ended things.

  "And?" I press my lips together. I'm not defending my decision to him. Or to anyone.

  "What the fuck, Brendon?"

  "Not a question."

  "Is Em talking to Kay now?"

  "No. Just fielding texts. She said she sent something to you. But you know that."

  Fuck. My stomach drops. "No. My phone is charging in the office."

  Leighton clears her throat. Nods to the short guy waiting in the lobby.

  Walker ignores her. Continues staring at me like I'm the devil.

  He's probably right.

  But I'm finally fixing that.

  "That's not an explanation." He stares back at me. "I'm not going to watch while you throw away the only person who makes you happy."

  Leighton joins his glaring. "You really dumped her?"

  "Yeah. And I don't see how it's your business," I say.

  "You're my friend, you idiot. And she is too." She runs a hand through her short hair. "I don't get it. You pine for her for months. She follows you around like a lovesick puppy. You finally have her, and you're both happy. Then, what, you dump her because you're bored of her?"

  "No." It's not even close to that.

  "What reason could you possibly have for leaving Kay?" Leighton asks. "You're w
orse than my ex."

  "No arguments there." I have no idea what Leighton's ex did to hurt her, but right now I feel like the scum of the Earth. Fuck, the way Kaylee stared at me like I tore her heart out.

  "What the fuck, Brendon? Are you going to explain?" Walker asks.

  "How many times are you going to ask the same question?" This isn't what I want. It's how things have to be.

  "Until I get a straight answer." He shakes his head. "Why would you break up with Kaylee?"

  "She shouldn't be with someone like me," I say.

  "What the hell does that mean?" Leighton asks.

  "God. Still with this shit? Get the fuck over yourself." Walker's voice gets angry. "Do you treat her well?"

  "Of course," I say.

  "You make her smile?" he asks.

  "Yeah. And?" I fold my arms.

  "You support her?" he asks.

  "I try." I do.

  "You listen when she needs that?" he asks.

  "You make her come?" Leighton jumps in.

  "Of course. That's a stupid fucking question," I say.

  "You're a stupid fucking idiot." She slams the table. "You make her laugh. You make her feel safe. You make her come. Explain to me how she shouldn't be around you."

  I... I can't.

  "She lights up like a pinball machine when you're around," Walker says. "She loves you. You love her. The two of you are a million fucking times more pleasant when you're around each other. Whatever bullshit you're selling about her being better off without you—nobody is buying it but you."

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Kaylee

  "Kay-bear." Grandma's voice is soft. Quiet. She's smiling. Her eyes are a little fuzzy.

  According to Mom, she's on a lot of painkillers.

  But she doesn't look like she's dying.

  She just looks tired.

  How can she only have weeks left?

  Or less?

  I swallow hard. "Hey, Grandma."

  Mom squeezes my hand.

  "You look terrible, Kay. Haven't you heard of under-eye concealer?" Grandma teases.

  It's the same as always. Except for the circumstances.