It killed me to see the two of them together, and when he dumped her, I was there to pick up the pieces. We’d shared one night, one fucking powerful night, a night that carried me through some tough, lonely times and gave me some damn good fantasies.
Afterward, Tiff took off for California and summer school, and I never heard from her again. She even changed her cell number, as if wiping out anything and everything from high school would wipe out the horror of what happened in the cafeteria.
Now that I’d seen her again, God, I wanted her. I fucking ached for her. And I wanted her every way I could get her—dirty and raunchy, soft and gentle, hard and fast, soft and slow.
If I didn’t stop thinking about this shit, I’d come in my jeans before I got to the horse barn. That’d make a good impression.
If one more time was all I could have, I’d savor the memory forever, hold it to my heart, and never let it go. But I was a greedy guy, and I wanted her more than once. I wanted her always near my heart and burrowed in my soul. I’d keep her safe, slay her dragons, destroy her demons, drive away her nightmares. I’d be her everything, because she sure as fuck was mine.
I pulled my car into the driveway of the farm, blinking in surprise. I couldn’t recall driving the last ten miles. Another sunny late-September day, low seventies, and blue skies with the promise of an awesome sunset to the west.
Parking in front of the barn, I stepped out of my big-ass Mercedes SUV. After buying Izzy a new car last week, Uncle Coop had insisted I take her old Mercedes. Not that it was old. In fact, it was still under warranty. He wanted to make sure if I got in a wreck I’d be protected. Here was the irony. This was the same SUV I’d borrowed graduation night, memories and all. I wondered if Tiff would remember it. We hadn’t exactly done it in the car, but we’d gotten halfway there.
Tiff stood in front of the barn, wringing her hands and regarding me with a wary expression. Her long hair hung in natural golden waves about her face and down her back. She’d put on a little weight since I’d last seen her, and the extra pounds looked good on her. She’d been too thin back then. A T-shirt clung to a pair of nicely rounded breasts, and her faded jeans hugged her hips and thighs. Her perfect, angelic face was devoid of makeup, and a smudge of dirt decorated one cheek.
As I came closer, a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I inhaled the smell of soap and horses, a scent so very Tiff. My throat tightened and my gut slipped on raw emotions and tumbled, as memories of good and bad times flooded my brain.
She lifted her face and met my gaze with her big doe eyes full of uncertainty and dread. All I wanted to do was wrap her in my arms. She looked as though she wanted to bolt for freedom.
I managed a smile. She smiled back tentatively, her lips quivering slightly and her hands clamped to her sides, probably because they were shaking.
“Hi,” I said simply, as conflicting emotions crashed inside me like waves slamming against a cliff in a furious storm.
“Hi.”
We stood in awkward silence with her staring at the ground and me staring at her.
I gestured to a bench under a large cedar tree several yards from the barn. “Let’s sit down.”
“Okay.”
Together, we walked to the bench. I hated this awkwardness. Despite all we’d been through, we’d always been comfortable with each other. I sat on one side, giving her ample room to sit without crowding her space. Tiff sat on the opposite edge and hugged herself.
“I didn’t know you were coming back to Seattle.” I made a lame attempt at conversation, hoping to break the ice. I should’ve brought Otto. He was the world’s best icebreaker, and Tiff had adored him.
She sighed, a bone-deep, weary sigh, and finally met my gaze. Pain dulled her brown eyes, and I resisted the urge to wrap her in my arms and take away that pain. It hadn’t worked seven years ago, and I doubted it’d work now. “My parents are getting a divorce. There’s no money for me to attend an out-of-state college.”
“I’m sorry.” I meant every word. I’d always felt her pain, as if we were connected or something.
She shrugged and picked at some horsehair on her T-shirt. “Shit happens. Their breakup was inevitable. They haven’t gotten along since—” She stopped and stared into space.
“I know.” I rushed to fill the silence. “Those were tough times for any relationship to survive.”
She swung her gaze back to mine. “Coop and Izzy became stronger.” Her lips thinned into a tense line.
“Everyone deals with stress differently.”
“Tell me about it.” Her voice trailed off, wistful and full of what sounded like regret, giving my dumbass self a twinge of hope. She looked toward the SUV. “You guys still have that?”
“It’s mine now. Izzy has a new car.”
She smiled for the first time. “Must be tough being you.”
“Yeah, but somebody has to do it.” I grinned back.
“Where’s Otto?” Her smile faded, giving me the impression she was worried about him.
“He’s home. I thought he might be too much.”
She shrugged and fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of her T-shirt, giving it her full attention. So far this reunion wasn’t going well at all. I shifted on the bench, searching for words to make this less painful. I didn’t find them.
“Why didn’t you say good-bye?” I blurted out. At the stricken frown on her face, I wished I could take my stupid words back.
That thread occupied her attention for a long time before she heaved a distressed sigh and met my gaze. “I needed a clean break from everyone and everything. I felt it was the only way I could truly heal. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” The pity in her voice annoyed me, though I wasn’t sure why.
“Did that clean break work for you?” I bit off each word with a bitterness that surprised me.
She studied me, as if reading every line ever written in the book of my life. No one else could do that to me, but Tiff could.
“How well did staying here work for you?”
“I’ve moved on. I’ve healed. I’ve used the bad and turned it into good.” I wanted to add “which was more than I could say for you,” but I didn’t want to start an argument and drive her away.
“I’m happy for you.” She spoke with absolute sincerity and reached out to pat my hand resting on my thigh. The gesture was sisterly, but my body didn’t see it that way. I took advantage and wrapped my fingers around her hand, holding it loosely, giving her the option of pulling away. She didn’t.
“I missed you.” God, I sounded pathetic, like some fucking loser who pined after the girl he could never have.
Her tiny smile broke my heart. She hadn’t missed me. Damn, the truth was written across her face brighter than all the neon in Vegas.
“How’ve you been?” I struggled to upright this sinking conversation. I could feel her slipping away, out of my grasp, one more time. She hadn’t met with me to start something. She’d met with me to finish it.
Fuck.
“Riley.” That one word said way too much. She squeezed my hand and blinked her eyes several times.
“Tiff, I—I—seeing you, it brought back things—feelings. A lot of time has passed, and I was hoping maybe we could—could—” The words stalled in my throat, and I swallowed, dredging up the courage to say what I needed to say.
“No.” How could one word hold so much agony? Her gaze met mine. Her huge eyes were luminous with unshed tears. She shook her head.
“But we’d be great together. We would. We have so much in common, and I lo—” I put the brakes on saying the L-word. I wouldn’t be able to take it back once I said it. Then she’d really pity me for the pathetic loser I was.
Tiff pulled her hand from mine, and the lack of warmth caused me to shiver. “No, Riley. Nothing’s changed. I can’t. I just can’t.” She sniffled but didn’t cry.
“But we’d be a good pair.”
“No, we wouldn’t. Too much mutual baggage. We’d never get bey
ond it. We’d destroy each other.” The determination in her voice wasn’t exactly giving me hope, but I wasn’t a quitter.
“We could heal together.”
Tiff shook her head. “I’m not strong enough to heal with you constantly reminding me of that day. Every time I look at you, I see your face filled with horror. I hear the bang-bang-bang of the guns. I feel the wind knocked out of me as you slam Gina and me to the ground and cover us with your body. Even worse, I can smell Gina’s blood, feel it warm and sticky on my skin as the life drains from her.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she managed to hold it together. She viciously swiped at them with the back of her hand, her brown eyes glittering with steely determination. “I can’t let the past beat me, Ry. I can’t.”
“But together we could—”
“Don’t you understand? There is no fucking together for us. We had a friendship. We had one hot night, and, yeah, I let down my guard, and we fucked. That’s all it was.” Her voice rose to a high-pitched screech, like I’d never heard from her. “I can’t love you, Riley. You deserve someone who can love you, not someone as broken as I am. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” One tear escaped and slid down her cheek.
“It was more than a hot night to me. It was more than fucking.”
“It wasn’t to me,” she said quietly, and stared me straight in the eyes. Despite the lone tear, her face was oddly cold. I couldn’t read her, but I had a hard time believing she meant those hurtful words.
“Tiff, I—”
“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “We aren’t starting anything.”
“Can we be friends?” the pathetic loser in me begged, seconds away from groveling at her feet.
She closed her eyes for a moment, her self-control eroding. When she opened them again, her sad resolve gutted me. Her face paled and her lips trembled as she drew them stiffly downward. “No. We can’t.” With a heart-wrenching sob, she shoved her fist in her mouth and shot to her feet. Without a single glance back at me, she streaked into the barn as if the devil were on her heels and out of my life one more time.
I debated going after her, but for what purpose? She’d made her decision quite clear. And I wouldn’t cause her more pain for my own selfish reasons.
I guess now I had fucking closure, and it sucked donkey balls.
* Tiff *
I cowered in a corner of the tack room and hugged my knees to my chest. I listened for the sound of Riley’s heavy footsteps echoing down the barn aisle, but those footsteps never came.
I should have been relieved, and part of me was. The other part mourned his absence, and I cried until my eyelids practically stuck together. My throat ached from the sobbing, and my head hurt with the mother of all headaches. Unwrapping my stiff limbs from the curled position I’d held for close to an hour, I heaved myself to my feet. Sniffling, I rubbed my eyes with the bottom of my T-shirt and staggered into the small bathroom off the tack room to wash my face. Glancing in the mirror, I saw what I expected to see—puffy eyes and blotchy face with defeat written in the slump of my shoulders. I looked like shit, and I felt worse than I looked.
I peeked out the door but saw nothing. The barn was deserted tonight, and I was grateful no one witnessed my meltdown.
I shuffled down the barn aisle, pausing to feed a carrot to Dex, and looked outside. Darkness had fallen, and Riley’s fancy SUV was gone.
I hiccupped and fought off another wave of tears, shocked I had anything left.
For years, I’d avoided anyone and anything that made me lose control, and Riley always made me feel on the verge of losing control.
I’d come so close to throwing myself into his arms and begging him to be my knight in shining armor. Only I couldn’t, not when I’d fought so hard to get this far.
The last thing I’d wanted was to hurt Riley, but I’d seen the pain in his eyes. I hated myself for doing this to him once again. Hated that I couldn’t be the girl he wanted.
This time, I had to be the strong one. Riley didn’t give up easily, and I wasn’t sure he was done with me yet.
I had to protect him from the dysfunction that had taken up residence in my soul and refused to vacate. He couldn’t know the depths of the damage, couldn’t understand my inability to give him what he needed, would never believe I was doing this for him. If I’d been doing it for me, I’d have leaped into his arms and held on to him forever.
But I couldn’t do that. He’d die a little each day because he couldn’t fix me. No one could. No one could stop the nightmares, no one could end the flashbacks, no one could glue back the broken pieces. There were too many of them, and I’d been broken for too long.
Worst of all, I had a secret no one knew but me.
I was in love with Riley Black, and I had been for a long time. But sadly, love changed nothing and only made my decision harder.
I wandered back down the barn aisle. As I’d done countless times, I wrapped my arms around Dex’s neck and pressed my face against his soft coat. He nuzzled me, checking my pockets for more carrots. Finding none, he stood quietly, as he always did, and offered his silent comfort.
There’d been times when I’d wanted to end it all, but the thought of leaving Dex had stopped me. Besides, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live. I wanted to heal. I wanted to get better. I just didn’t know how. I’d gone through three years of counseling after it happened, but the best therapy I received was from the back of a horse. I couldn’t afford formal therapy now, and I wasn’t convinced it would matter.
I hugged Dex tighter and bit back another wrenching sob, surprised I had any cry left in me. I’d never imagined that finally ending it—whatever it was—with Riley would cause such emotional anguish. I hadn’t realized until now that I’d been harboring a smidgen of hope we might eventually be together.
Not anymore. I’d closed that door, burned that last bridge, and scorched the earth.
A profound sadness, pervasive and gloomy as a Seattle winter, weighed me down and pulled me toward the pit of despair. I’d spent too long in that pit, and I wasn’t going back. Not today and not ever, and seeing Riley had made things worse, not better.
Chapter 6—Pizza, the Food of Choice
* Riley *
I got home that night, parked the Mercedes in the garage, took Otto for a walk, and got shit-faced. I drank every bottle of beer in the fridge and started on the whiskey until Gage snatched the bottle and hid it. If I’d been sober, I might’ve made sense of his puzzled expression and how my roommates gathered around me shooting meaningful glances at one another. Otto laid his body across my feet and pressed close to my legs, as if he could transfer some of his quiet strength to me.
“You’re done, Ry-man,” Gage said, hands on hips and wearing his best badass quarterback glare. “No woman is worth this.”
They knew?
Oh, yeah, they knew Tiff had shot me down, right out of the sky, leaving my heart to free-fall without a parachute until I burned in and left a small crater.
“I’m going to bed.” I staggered toward the bedroom, Otto on my heels, and fell down in the hallway. I passed out before my head hit the floor.
Hours later, I blinked in agony at the sun streaming though my window. An entire marching band performed inside my head, elevating the pounding to unbearable levels.
Shit, just let me die now.
Still fully clothed, I had no idea how I’d gotten in bed. The guys must’ve carried me, dragged me, something. I couldn’t have made it here by myself. I rarely, if ever, drank to the point where I passed out, but I had last night.
Otto groaned from his spot at the bottom of the bed. He wasn’t a morning dog, and he hated being woken up before eleven. Right now, I knew how he felt.
My stomach, rebelling against my binge several hours earlier, began to roll. I stumbled to the bathroom, sank to my knees in front of the toilet, and heaved. When I was finished, I felt a little better. I struggled to my feet and swayed back and forth. Gripping the counter, I
managed to brush my teeth, then staggered back to bed and fell asleep.
Several hours later, I woke again. I felt better, with the exception of the vise squeezing my heart tighter and tighter, but that had nothing to do with my drinking and everything to do with Tiff.
Oh God.
At the thought of Tiff my stomach rolled again, but I managed to fight off the nausea. I glanced at the clock. Two thirty in the afternoon.
I bolted upright and immediately wished I hadn’t as the room spun around me. I fought off the nausea and dizziness and held my throbbing head in my hands. I was a fucking mess. I would never drink like that again.
I’d be late for practice. As if I could practice in the shape I was in.
I swung my feet off the bed and hung my head between my knees until the spinning stopped. My phone beeped next to the nightstand, signaling one text message or several.
Bleary-eyed, I blinked several times and squinted, trying to read the newest message.
Told Coach you had the flu.
Not the way to impress a new coach who’d given me a chance to play backup to the backup quarterback. I’d always wanted to be a QB, but because of my screwed-up home life prior to living with Uncle Coop, I’d never been able to stay on a team long enough to learn the ropes. By the time I moved in with my uncle, I was so far behind, I couldn’t catch up. My high school coach recognized my innate athletic ability and put me at tight end. I did play a little QB throughout high school, but I was never at the level of the starters.
The Tyee Chinooks’ new coach believed in giving everyone a shot at their dream position. I’d been just good enough that he’d seen some talent and allowed me to have a few reps per practice with Gage and our backup, Preston. I hadn’t missed practice once this year so I imagined I’d get a pass, but I hated being an idiot. My mother had been unreliable because of her lifestyle and drug addiction, and I so did not want to be that person.
Sacked in Seattle: Game On in Seattle Rookies (Men of Tyee Book 1) Page 4