Colby: I had a burrito today from Salsa Brava and it made me think of you and our burrito dates. I could use one of those right about now.
Colby: One week until I’m back. Are you going to open your door if I knock on it?
Colby: I miss you, Ryan.
Chapter One Hundred Six
RYAN
“This baby has Stryder’s personality, stubborn and annoying.”
“Hey, I heard that,” Stryder calls out in the background. I barely laugh.
I don’t think I’ve laughed in weeks.
When I got back from Colorado Springs, avoiding any contact with my mother—thank God—I went straight to Donovan’s apartment, broke it off with him, and then spent the next day wallowing on my blowup mattress. Unfortunately for me, wallowing doesn’t bring in a paycheck, so I’ve been working and sleeping. That’s basically it.
The wallowing by no means was because of Donovan. He was actually a giant dick about the breakup, said a few choice words, which barely penetrated my soft and very penetrable wall. Key word being barely. There were still a few things that hit me harder than I would have liked.
Things like you were a decent lay.
The guys weren’t that impressed with you anyway.
I’m trying my hardest to keep the negative thoughts out of my head, but it’s practically impossible when I’m not in a good headspace, when I despise myself every time I look in the mirror, when I know no matter what I do to try to improve my body image, I will always think I’m not good enough.
I’ll never be good enough.
“Are you there?” Rory asks.
My throat tight, tears at the corner of my eyes, I say, “Yeah, I’m here. You broke up for a second.” I lie because I don’t want to worry her. She’s been calling more frequently, and I wonder if it’s because Colby said something to her. Since I won’t answer him, I’m wondering if he’s having Rory check up on me.
The only calls and texts I answer right now are from Rory and my dad. I’ve even stopped talking to Leah, because ever since I told her I think I’m going to leave the show, she’s been trying to convince me otherwise. She also wants to know what happened with Donovan, and I don’t have the energy to tell her.
And then there’s Sage.
She’s messaged a few times asking how I am, and I know she’s being polite, but she probably has wedding things she wants to talk about. I can’t physically get myself to answer her calls, to even think about talking to her. I can’t. There is no way I can talk about the wedding and listen to how she excited she is to marry Colby. It’s a dagger to the heart, twisting and turning with every mention of what their life is going to be like, the life I wish I could have. The life I’ll never have, because no one will ever think I’m enough.
I have to call her back at some point and let her know I can’t be her maid of honor. I can’t. I can’t fathom standing at the altar, watching Colby marry someone else, seeing the joy in his eyes when he watches his bride walk down the aisle, the love he has for her.
It will be too difficult.
“The doctor said I’m not even dilated a little. I was told your first pregnancy usually doesn’t go full term, and I have to be the exception, don’t I? Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s healthier for the baby, but let me tell you something, Ryan. I have to grip the wall to get off the toilet, and that’s horrifying.”
I politely chuckle. “Maybe have Stryder get you a cane or something.”
“I might. Carrying a bowling ball on your stomach is hard, especially when it’s constantly pressing on your bladder.”
“Might have to bust out the diapers.” I’m having a conversation, but I know my heart isn’t in it. My mind is barely registering what we’re talking about, and I know Rory can sense it, but she’s not saying anything.
It’s throwing me off actually. By now she would have asked me what’s wrong. Maybe the baby is taking over everything. I don’t blame her. She needs to focus on the baby, not me.
“Hey, I actually have to get going. Dinner isn’t going to make itself.”
“Ooo, what are you making? Can you tell I’m pregnant? I’m super excited about food all the time.”
“Before you were pregnant you were happy about food too,” I tease.
“Hey, I’m more sensitive now too.”
“Sorry about that. Just making some simple pasta on my hot plate. Super involved.”
“Sounds like a delight. I’ll let you go. We’re still on Sheppard Baby Watch, so I’ll be sure to keep you updated at all hours of the night.”
“You better.”
We hang up the phone and I toss it onto my little faux nightstand—which is actually a storage bin turned upside down. I’ve done nothing to this apartment to make myself at home, to make it a place I truly want to come home to every day, but then again, it’s a single room with no kitchen. There’s not much I can do or want to do. Instead of making dinner like I said, I curl up into my pillow and pull my sheets over my shoulder.
There have been moments in my life where I’ve felt depressed or unsure where my life was going, but nothing has been as bad as this moment. It’s so . . . dark. Desolate.
Nothing has happened to me, so I can’t say I’ve hit rock-bottom, but my mental capacity, my heart, they’re broken, shattered into a million pieces and practically impossible to put back together.
Meditate. Get some fresh air. Listen to some music. They’re all suggestions to get me out of this dark hole I’ve been living in, but nothing seems to work.
They always say the mistakes you make shape you into the person you presently are. Well, there is one mistake I wish I could take back, one that has shaped me into a pile of nothing.
I should have never gone with Colby to fly his planes. I should have told him I had plans. I should have insisted on staying with Rory and Stryder, but my heart guided my feet out of that house and into his car. My heart wanted more, craved more. Just some more time with him before he gets married, before it all comes to an end.
Because then he’ll be gone.
And it was one of the best moments I’ve ever had. Colby behind me, arms circled around me, helping me fly his airplane, laughter, the ease and simplicity of our relationship showcased as we shared a special moment, flying his plane. It almost felt like we fit together like peanut butter and jelly, I was the sweet to his salty. His heart was open and exposed and . . . beautiful. And for that tiny moment in time, it felt like it was mine. That he was mine.
I can still see the smile on his face, the rumble of his chest behind me as he spoke into my ear, telling me how to maneuver the plane.
The feel of his hands on mine.
The smell of his cologne seeping into me . . . branding me.
And then when he was dropping me off, the way he gripped my chin, the look in his eyes. For a brief second, I thought this was it: he was going to finally kiss me.
Our first kiss.
I could see it, deep in his stare, he wanted to. He thought about it, but then we were thrust back into reality when Sage called.
Love you.
His goodbye to Sage just about split me in half, reminding me why I need to stay as far away from him as possible. He loves another woman, not me. He’s found his person . . . and it’s not me.
It’s unhealthy for me to be here, to see them holding hands, for me to wistfully think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll turn his gaze on me and look at me the way he looks at Sage.
I sink deeper into my mattress letting the darkness of the night take over my little apartment, not even bothering to turn on a light.
Silence. Only the sounds of the apartments around me filling the empty air.
A slam of a door.
Footsteps above.
The muffled sound of someone’s voice.
The light knock on a door.
I sit up. Did that come from my apartment? I shift on my air mattress, the plastic fabric squeaking against the floor.
Knock. Knock.
<
br /> That is coming from my door. Last time someone came to visit me, it was a neighbor asking if I had sugar. I barely keep food in my apartment let alone sugar. I debate answering when there is another knock. Okay, so they must know I’m home.
Surrendering to my neighbor, I make my way to the door while putting my hair into a messy bun. At this point, I’m sure my makeup is smeared across my face and I look like someone who’s been dragged across the rough side of the train tracks for five miles. Maybe it will scare them away.
I open the door and my breath catches in my chest when my eyes fixate on the man standing in front of me.
Flight suit with sleeves rolled exposing his arms, aviators shielding the expression in those molten-chocolate eyes, a light dusting of scruff covering the strong set in his jaw, and determination hardening his muscular shoulders. He’s magnificent. Fierce.
“Colby.” I hug myself. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
He takes a step forward, causing me to move backward until he’s in my apartment and shutting the door. He takes off his sunglasses, folds them, and sets them on the foldout table near my door.
Eyes set on me, he takes another step forward as I take a step backward. A few more steps and I’m against he wall, Colby a foot away. His eyes roam my body and then back to my face where he gently cups my cheek and moves in even closer.
My heart stutters in my chest.
My stomach flips upside down.
My skin prickles with brief excitement.
Leaning forward, he takes his other hand and presses it into my hip, keeping me in place.
We breathe.
Mine shaky.
His determined.
We search each other’s eyes.
Mine weary.
His strong-willed.
We grip each other.
Mine tentative.
His forceful.
And when he lowers his forehead to mine, all air escapes my lungs as I hold my breath, unsure of what’s going to happen. When he brings his mouth centimeters from mine, the need to cry becomes overwhelming.
Why is he here? Why is he doing this to me? This hurts.
I can’t do this.
I can’t have him pull away. I can’t have him change his mind, not this close, not when—
His lips move closer until they’re pressing against mine. Slow at first, he explores my mouth, and once I allow myself to breathe, he moves in even closer, his grip becoming tighter, his mouth more demanding.
I slip my hand to the back of his neck, anchoring myself to him as my knees wobble beneath me.
Strong and powerful, he rocks me to my very core with the little nips of his mouth, the light suck on my bottom lip, the swipe of his tongue.
He pushes me closer against the wall, his hand tilting my head back, getting the perfect angle. He keeps me like that, back arched, hips grounded against the wall, neck in a curve, lips parted as he claims me.
Every last piece of me.
Tears start to slip from my eyes, the unimaginable finally happening. I’ve wanted this man for so long. I’ve wanted him to see me as more than a friend. I’ve wanted to know what it feels like for him to take me as not only a one-night stand, but as someone he can’t live without.
I want him to love me.
And then that’s when it hits me.
Sage.
On a gasp, I push against his chest, stepping away and gripping my head. I can’t believe I kissed him, or that he kissed me. I promised myself I wouldn’t be that girl, the one who broke up a couple, but here I am, kissing Colby when he’s engaged to Sage.
“You need to leave.” I wipe away my tears and turn my back to him.
“Ryan.” He comes up behind me, trying to take me in his arms again, but I push him away.
“You’re engaged, Colby. This is not okay. This should never have happened.”
“We broke off the engagement.” His voice is neutral, even, calm. How can he be so calm when he just dropped that bomb?
I whip around, hope blossoming in the pit of my stomach. “You . . . you broke off the engagement?”
He nods and takes another step forward. “A couple weeks ago. If you actually answered my texts and calls, you would have found out a lot sooner, but since you’re stubborn and refused to talk to me, I had to wait to tell you in person.”
No wonder Sage hadn’t asked me to do anything lately. Oh God, Sage.
“Wh-who broke it off?” I wipe another stray tear, my emotions flying everywhere.
“We both did. It was mutual. What it came down to is we were comfortable within our relationship, but we both knew we needed to be challenged, not complacent. We loved each other but we weren’t in love with each other, Ryan.”
I pull on the sleeves of my sweatshirt, unsure what to say next. “So, what does that mean?”
“That means I’m here, trying to figure out where you and I stand.” He takes my hand in his and pulls me closer. “Are we just friends, Ryan, or do you want more?”
Is this really happening right now? Am I dreaming? Has my mind completely lost it and I’m hallucinating, creating lifelike fantasies? Was that kiss real?
I’m tempted to touch my lips. It felt real, so real that when his lips touched mine, I experienced a jolt of energy spring through me, almost as if he was recharging me, jump-starting my heart again with his soft mouth.
“Do you want more?” I ask, the heaviness of my question weighing on my chest. If he says no, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself, although, he did kiss me. There could be hope.
Pulling me in the last few inches, he brings his hand to my lower back and holds me tightly against him. I’ve seen him hold Sage like this, even Rory, and I’ve wondered what it felt like, to have his strong and protective arms encase me.
It’s so much more than I ever imagined.
It’s as if he’s sheltering me from the rest of the world and creating our own little atmosphere where only the two of us exist, and everyone else is a mere shadow in the distance.
“I want more, Ryan,” he whispers, sending a chill up my spine and another wave of tears to come flooding down my cheeks. The belief that he’s actually here, saying he wants more too is overwhelming for my heart. He gently brushes my face, taking the wetness with him. “Why are you crying?”
Lifting my arms, I grip his wrists, turning my head into his touch, soaking in this moment and the feel of his hand against my skin. “I can’t believe you’re here, that you . . . that you want more.” A small little hiccup of a sob hits me. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Colby. And then when you decided to propose to Sage”—another sob—“I didn’t think it was possible to ever have you look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”
“Fuck, Ryan,” he sighs and leans forward, taking my mouth with his again.
His hand slowly glides up my back to my hair where he holds my head in place as he works his mouth across mine.
Slow nips.
Quick swipes.
Gentle press.
I melt into his arms, into his hold, grabbing on to his flight suit so I don’t fall to the ground. We’ve never kissed before today, and I can’t believe what I’ve been missing, the kind of passion he possesses using only his mouth.
His tongue darts out of his mouth, begging for entrance. A light moan pops out of me as I grant him access, letting our tongues dance across each other. It’s erotic, sensual.
It’s lighting up everything inside me, from the tips of my toes, to the edge of my fingers. I’m regaining the feeling I lost over the last few weeks, my heart bursting at the seams, pounding like a jackhammer in my chest.
There’s barely an inch between us as he hungrily kisses me, taking what he wants and not letting up.
Slowly he backs me up until we reach my blowup mattress. For a brief second, he pulls away and eyes it, the corner of his lips tilting up. “Is that thing safe?”
“Not sure. I’m the only one who’s been on it.”
His e
yes darken, his expression intense as he reaches between us and grabs the hem of my sweatshirt, dragging it over my head, revealing a small white bralette that barely contains my breasts.
“Christ.” He drags his hand over his mouth, eyes trained on me. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Ryan.”
I shy away from him. “I’m a mess right now. I’m sure my makeup looks—”
Before I can finish, he takes me by the hand and takes me to my bathroom where he makes me sit on the toilet. He reaches for my makeup wipes and squats in front of me. Not saying a word, he starts to take off my makeup, one swipe at a time.
I flinch at first, hating that he’s removing my “shield,” the protective layer I put on every day to face the world. “Colby.”
He shakes his head. “No, you don’t need all this makeup, Ryan. I want to see your blue eyes without black framing them. I want to count the freckles on your nose and move my lips along your skin unobstructed. Show me your left side, Ryan.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, my breath becoming ragged as the meaning of his words hit me hard. He’s always wanted to see my left side of perfect, and right now, he’s forcing it, taking me apart layer by layer.
Show me your left side.
Instead of fighting, I allow him to continue, letting the raw and exposed feeling consume me. He won’t do anything to hurt me or say anything to send me into a tailspin. At least, it’s what I keep telling myself.
Concentrating on what he’s doing, I take the time to observe him. The slight five o’clock shadow caressing his face, the stiff set in his strong jaw, the pout of his swollen lips, the deep brown of his eyes so mysterious, yet kind.
He’s beyond handsome, the type of man I never thought would ever call me beautiful, let alone look at me the way he is right now, with such affection and intensity.
Once he’s done, he sits on his heels and stares me down, a smile pulling at his lips. He stands and takes me with him to my bed and lowers me gently. Thankfully the air mattress I have is a double queen, so it’s a few feet off the ground.
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