by K. Bromberg
The bills slip off the counter into his pocket before my second shot is being tossed back. I welcome the sting. The imaginary slap to my face for how I just left Rylee. For what I’m going to do to Rylee. The third one’s gone and my head still hurts. Pressure’s still in my chest.
You know that you’re only ever allowed to love me, Colty. Only me. And I’m the only one who’ll ever really love you. I know the things you let them do to you. The things you enjoy them doing to you. I can hear you in there with them. I hear you chanting ‘I love you’ over and over the whole time. I know you’re convinced you let them because you love me, but you really do it because you like how it feels. You’re a naughty, naughty boy, Colton. So very bad that no one will ever be able to love you. Will never want to. Never. And if they did and found out all of the naughty things you’ve done? They’d know the truth—that you’re horrible and disgusting and poisoned inside. That any love you have inside of you for anyone but me is like a toxin that will kill them. So you can’t tell anyone because if you do, they’ll know how repulsive you are. They’ll know the Devil lives inside of you. I know. I’ll always know and I’ll still love you. I’m the only one that is ever allowed to love you. I love you, Colty.
I try to push the memories from my mind. Push them back into the abyss that they’re always hiding in. Rylee can’t love me. No one can love me. My head fucks with me as I glance down the bar. The man sitting with his back to me causes sickness to grapple though me. Greasy dark hair. A paunchy gut. I know if he turns around what he’ll look like. What he’ll smell like. What he’ll taste like.
I toss back the seventh shot, trying to force the bile down. Trying to numb the fucking pain—pain that won’t go the fuck away even though I know in my right head that it’s not him. Can’t be. It’s just my mind fucking with me because the alcohol hasn’t numbed enough yet.
I push my forehead in my hands. It’s Rylee’s voice clear as day that I hear in my head—but it’s his face that I see when I hear those three words.
Not Rylee’s.
Just his.
And my Mom’s. Her lips and that ragged smile giving me her constant affirmation of the freakish horror inside of me.
The blackness has already poisoned me. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let it kill Rylee too. Number ten goes down and my lips are starting to not work.
A catastrophic exit. The perfect fucking meaning to Ace. I start laughing. It hurts so fucking much that I can’t stop. I’m barely holding it together. And I’m afraid that if I do stop, I’m going to fracture just like the goddamn mirror.
Humpty fuckin’ Dumpty.
“THIS IS THE WAY YOU want it to be. Guess you don’t want me,” I sing solemnly with my old standby, Matchbox Twenty, as I drive home after my shift the next day. I still haven’t heard from Colton, but then again I hadn’t expected to.
I pull into my driveway, the past twenty-four hours a blur. I should have called in sick to work as it wasn’t fair to the boys to have a guardian around who’s so wrapped up in their own head they weren’t really present.
I’ve relived the moment so many times that I can’t think about it anymore. I didn’t expect Colton to confess his undying love for me in return, but I also didn’t think he’d act as if the words were never spoken. I’m hurt and feeling the sting of rejection and am uncertain where to go from here. I took an important moment between us and fucked it up. What to do now? I’m not sure.
I trudge in the house, drop my bag rather unceremoniously on the floor by the front door, and collapse on the couch. And that is where Haddie finds me hours later when she walks through the door.
“What’d he do to you, Rylee?” Her demand rouses me from sleep. Her hands are on her hips as she stands over me, and her eyes search mine for an answer.
“Oh, Haddie, I screwed up royally,” I sigh as I let the tears that I’d been holding back flow. She sits down on the coffee table in front of me, hand on my knee in support, and I relay everything to her.
When I finish she just shakes her head and looks at me with eyes full of compassion and empathy. “Well, sweetie, if anything’s screwy, it’s definitely not you!” she says. “All I can say is that you need to give him a little time. You probably scared the shit out of Mr. Free-Wheelin’-Bachelor to death. Love. Commitment. All that shit...” she waves her hand through the air “...is a big step for someone like him.”
“I know.” I hiccup through my tears. “I just didn’t expect him to be so cold…so nonchalant about it. I think that’s what hurts the most.”
“Oh, Ry.” She leans in and hugs me tightly. “I’ll call in sick to the event tonight so you’re not alone.”
“No don’t,” I tell her. “I’m fine. I’ll probably just eat a gallon of ice cream and go to sleep anyway. Go...” I shoo her away with my hands “...I’ll be fine. I promise.”
She just stares at me for a moment, debating whether I’m lying or not. “Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath, “but just remember something…you’re awesome, Rylee. If he doesn’t see that...if he doesn’t see everything you have to offer in and out of the sack...then fuck him and the horse he rode in on.”
I give her a slight smile. Leave it to Haddie to put it eloquently.
The next morning passes without hearing from him. I decide to text him.
Hi, Ace. Call me when you have a chance. We need to talk. XO.
My phone remains silent for most of the day despite how many times I’ve looked at it and checked to see if I have good service. As the day drags on, my unease settles in, and I start to realize that I’ve probably done irrevocable damage.
Finally at three o’clock I receive a response. My hopes soar at the prospect of having contact with him.
Busy all day in meetings. Catch you later.
And then my hopes take a nosedive.
On the third day post the I-love-you disastrous confession, I get up the nerve to call his office on my way in to the office. “CD Enterprises, can I help you?”
“Colton Donavan please,” I answer, my knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.
“May I ask who’s calling please?”
“Rylee Thomas.” My voice cracks.
“Hi, Ms. Thomas, let me check. Just a moment please.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, anxiety eating at me as I hope he answers and then at what to say if he does.
“Ms. Thomas?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry. Colton’s not in today. He’s out sick. Can I take a message? Can Tawny help you with anything?”
My heart moves up into my throat at the words. If he is in fact sick, she wouldn’t have had to check. She would’ve known.
“No. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
The past few days have started to take their toll on me. I look a mess, so much so that even make-up isn’t helping. On day four I feel like I would give anything to take my words back. To take us back to the moments before where we were connected in the moment of his unyielding trust in me. But I can’t.
Instead, I sit at my desk and stare aimlessly at the pile of work on my desk without any desire to do anything. I look up at the knock on my open door to see Teddy. “You okay, kiddo? You don’t look so good.”
I force a smile. “Yeah. I think I’m coming down with something,” I lie. Anything to avoid the questioning look and the I-told-you-so tone. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, well don’t stay too late. I think you’re the last one. I’ll tell Tim down in the lobby you’re still up here so that he can walk you to your car.”
“Thanks, Teddy.” I smile. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
My smile fades as he turns his back from me. I watch Teddy walk to the elevators and into the open car while I muster up the courage to call him again. I don’t want to come off desperate, but I am. I need to talk to him. To show him that even though I said the words, things are still the same between us. I pick up my cell phone but know
he probably won’t pick up if he sees my number. I opt for the office line.
On the third ring the phone picks up “Donavan.”
My heart pounds in my chest at the sound of his voice. Keep it light, Rylee. “Ace?” I say breathlessly.
“Rylee?” His voice seems so far away as he says my name. So distant. So detached and bordering on annoyed.
“Hi,” I say timidly. “I’m glad I got ahold of you.”
“Yeah, sorry I haven’t called you back,” he apologizes, but he sounds off. He’s talking to me in the same irritated tone that he spoke to Teagan with.
I swallow the lump in my throat, needing any type of connection with him. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you picked up.”
“Yeah, I’ve just been real busy with work.”
“Feeling better then?” I ask, then cringe when there’s silence on the line— the pause that tells me he has to think of something quick to say to cover the lie.
“Yeah…just getting some last minute details done to try and push a patent through on one of our new safety devices.”
My insides twist at his disembodied tone because I can feel it. I can feel him removing himself from all we shared together. From all the emotions I thought he felt but couldn’t put words to. I try to hide the desperation in my voice as the first tear trails down my cheek. “So how’s it going?”
“Eh, so-so…look, babe...” he laughs “...I’ve gotta run.”
“Colton!” I plead. His name falls from my mouth before I can stop it.
“Yeah?”
“Look, I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I didn’t mean...” My words falter as I choke on getting the lie out.
The line is silent for a moment, and that’s the only reason I know he’s heard me. “Well that’s a slap in the face,” he says sarcastically, but I can hear the annoyance in his voice. “Which one is it, babe? You either love me or you don’t, right? It’s almost worse when you say it and then take it back. Don’t you agree?”
I think it’s the obvious derision in his voice that breaks me this time. I catch the sob before it comes out loudly. I hear him laugh with someone on the other end of the line. “Colton…” is all I can manage to say, the hurt swallowing me whole and pulling me under.
“I’ll call ya,” he says, the phone clicking off before I have a chance to say what I fear could possibly be my final goodbye. I keep the phone to my ear, my mind running through all of the other ways that conversation could have gone differently. Why did he have to be so cruel? He forewarned me. I guess I’m at fault all around in this case. First for not listening and then for opening my big mouth.
I cross my arms and lay my head down on my desk, groaning when I realize I’ve laid my head on top of the schedule his office has sent over to me. Of the events that I’ve been contracted to attend. With him. What the fuck did I do to myself? How could I have been so damn stupid agreeing to go along with this? Because it’s him, the small voice in my head reiterates. And because it’s for the boys. I pick up the schedule, crumple it up, and throw it across the room hoping for a thump at least, but the soft sound of it hitting the wall does nothing to assuage the pain in my chest.
Within moments, sobs rack my body. Fuck me. Fuck him. Fuck love. I knew this was going to happen. Bastard.
I wake Saturday morning still feeling like shit but with a renewed purpose. I get up and force myself to go for a run, telling myself it will make me feel better. It will give me a fresh outlook on things. I take the run and pound my feet into the pavement at a relentless pace to relieve some of my heartache. I arrive home, out of breath, body tired, and still feeling the ache deep in my soul. I guess I lied to myself there.
I take a shower and tell myself no more tears today and definitely no more ice cream.
I am scooping the last of the mint chocolate chip out of the carton when my cell phone rings. I glance at the unknown number, curiosity getting the best of me. “Hello?”
“Rylee?” I try to place the feminine voice on the other end of the line but can’t.
“Yes? Who is— ”
“What the hell happened?” the voice demands of me in a clipped and obviously annoyed tone.
“What? Who— ”
“It’s Quinlan.” A small breath squeaks past my lips in shock. “I just left Colton’s house. What the hell happened?”
“Wh-what do you mean?” I stammer because I can answer that question in so many different ways.
“God!” She sighs in frustration and impatience on the other end of the line. “Will you two get your shit together and pull your heads out of your asses? Fucking Christ. Maybe then you’d realize you two have got something real. Something that’s undeniable. It would take an idiot not to see that spark between you guys.” I remain silent on the other end of the line. The tears I told myself I couldn’t cry, leak out of the corners of my eyes. “Rylee? You there?”
“I told him I loved him,” I tell her softly, wanting to confide in her for some reason. Maybe needing some kind of validation about his response from someone that’s closest to him so I don’t keep replaying it over in my head endlessly.
“Oh shit.” She breathes in shock.
“Yeah...” I laugh anxiously “...that about sums it up in a nutshell.”
“How’d he take it?” she asks cautiously. I tell her his reaction and how he’s been since then. “Sounds like what I’d expect from him.” She sighs. “He’s such an ass!”
I remain silent at her comment, dashing away my tears with the back of my hand. “How is he?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“Moody. Grouchy. Surly as hell.” She laughs. “And from the number of his friends Jim and Jack, empty and lining his kitchen counter, I’d say he’s trying to drink himself into oblivion to either help forget his demons or so he can push down the fear he has in regards to his feelings for you.” I exhale the breath I’m holding, a part of me reveling in the fact that he’s hurting too. That he’s affected by what’s happened between us. “And because he’s missing you terribly.”
My heart wrenches at her final words. I feel like I’ve been in a world without light for the past couple of days, so it’s welcome to know that he’s drowning in darkness too. And then the part of me that acknowledges that notion doesn’t want him to hurt, feels sorry for causing all of this pain with those stupid words, and just wants to make everything right again.
My voice is thick with tears and wavers when I speak again. “I really fucked up by saying it, Quinlan.”
“No you didn’t!” she scolds. “Ugh!” She groans. “God, I love him and hate him so much sometimes! He’s never opened himself up to this possibility before, Rylee…he’s never been in this predicament. I can only guess how he’ll react.”
“Please,” I plead. “I’m at a loss for what to do. I just don’t want to screw up and push him away further.”
She is silent for a few moments as she contemplates things. “Give him a little time, Rylee,” she murmurs, “but not too much time or he might do something stupid on purpose, and risk fucking up the one good girl he’s ever truly cared about.”
“Not Tawny…” The words are out before I can stop them. I cringe, knowing I’ve just openly insulted a family friend.
“Don’t get me started on her.” Quinlan sneers in contempt, causing a small part of me deep down to smile at the knowledge that it’s not just me who detests her. I laugh through my tears. “Hang in there, Rylee,” she says, sincerity flooding her voice. “Colton is a wonderful yet complicated man…worthy of your love, even if he is unable to accept that concept yet.” The lump in my throat prevents me from responding, so I just murmur an agreement. “He needs a lot of patience, a strong sense of loyalty, unrelenting trust, and a person to tell him when he steps out of line. All of that is going to take time for him to realize and accept…in the end though, he’s worth the wait. I just hope he knows it.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Good luck, Rylee.”
�
�Thank you, Quinlan. For everything.”
I hear her chuckle as she clicks off the phone.
QUINLAN’S ADVICE STILL RINGS IN my ears as I lie in bed the next morning. The pain in my chest and ache in my soul is still there, but my resolve has returned. I once told Colton to fight for us. For me. Now it’s my turn. I told him he is worth the risk. That I’d take the chance. Now I need to prove it.
If Quinlan seems to think I matter to him, then I can’t give up now. I have to try.
I drive up the coastline, Lisa Loeb playing on the speakers, and my mind a whirl of thoughts— what I’m going to say and how I’m going to say it— as the clouds above slowly burn off and give way to the morning sun. I take it as a positive sign that somehow when I see Colton face-to-face, he’ll see it’s just him and me, how it was before, and that the words mean nothing. That they change nothing. That he feels the same way and that I act the same way. And that we are us. That the darkness I feel will dissipate because I’ll be back in his light once again.
I steer down Broadbeach Road and pull up to his gate, my heart pounding a frantic tattoo and my hands shaking. I ring the buzzer, but no one answers. I try again, and then again, thinking maybe he is asleep. That he can’t hear the buzzer because he is upstairs.
“Hello?” a feminine voice asks through the speaker. My heart drops into my stomach.
“It’s Rylee. I...I need to see Colton.” My voice is a tangle of nerves and unshed tears.
“Hi, dear. It’s Grace. Colton’s not here, sweetie. He hasn’t been here since yesterday afternoon. Is everything okay? Would you like to come in?”