Back to You (Chaotic Love Book 2)

by Claudia Burgoa

  “How come?”

  “He changed how he interacted with me when he learned about my abusive past. It’s been a process to be able to understand why he pulled away. He hurt too, and he wasn’t strong enough to deal with my past while he still struggled with his own.”

  “You don’t need him then?”

  “I always will, but not in the same way I did before I learned how to stand on my two feet. During my recovery, I lived for his letters. I had no idea how much they mattered until they stopped coming. It almost killed me.”

  She taps on her table and then looks up at me. “You haven’t mentioned this before.”

  “I haven’t thought about it since I left Esperanza’s Home.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Well, he just stopped sending letters. I would check the mail every day, and there was nothing for me. After the second week, there was this pain growing from the inside out that was slowing me down. I couldn’t eat, think, or even move as well as I used to.”

  I huff, a little upset at my former self. Granted, I had no idea that Wes was somewhere in Denver, drunk and not even knowing what day it was. That explains the handwriting. It changed so much from one letter to the next.

  “I felt as if he’d abandoned me. And if Wes, who never left my side had forgotten about me, there was no point in existing. I became too depressed to function. Even getting out of bed was hard.”

  I smile. “But, it was the best thing he could’ve done for me. It took me a few weeks to get out of the funk, and that’s when I finally took myself seriously. Of course, now I feel a little guilty because he was going through hell too.”

  It takes me only a few minutes to catch her up with what Wes has been going through.

  Evelyn listens without commenting, but once I’m done she says, “It sounds like you two have been talking a lot.”

  “Yes, and it’s scary but also exciting. I’m still afraid that we don’t belong together.”

  “Is that the fear talking?”

  I take a few seconds to think about her question and nod. “Mostly. But there are outside factors too, like his mother. I can’t be with him if she hates me.”

  The holidays are going to be hell.

  “Do you want to work through that resentment? Maybe compartmentalize it for now?”

  “How would that work?” I frown because I don’t think I’ve ever tried that technique. And I’ve tried a lot of them.

  “Imagine you have a box.”

  “What kind of box?” I ask.

  “It’s your choice. It can be a plain cardboard box, a plastic container. It doesn’t matter.”

  I think about the containers I used when I went to college. “Okay, I have it.”

  “Then set anything that you don’t like about your relationship with her in that box. After you’re done, put the box away.”

  “Where?”

  “It can go to the bottom of the ocean, and we can forget about it forever. You can set it in the back of your mind. When you’re ready, we can bring it back and sort through each feeling. In the meantime, the pain is contained.”

  “I choose what to do with the box?”

  “Yes, and it dictates what you plan on doing with your relationship with Linda.”

  “She’s too important to me to just set her in a box and forget it,” I say carefully. “Dropping her in the middle of the ocean feels too final. I just don’t want to face another rejection.”

  “Then, there’s your answer. You’re not ready to forget but also not ready to mend the relationship. And I agree, it’s an extreme measure. I just wanted to offer you options.”

  I take a deep breath, nodding. “It’s hard not to be afraid though.”

  “After everything you’ve lived through, I can see why you’d think she’ll reject you. It’s understandable. Try not to be so hard on yourself. There are times when your fears will strike before logic. That’s part of your make up. The important thing is that you don’t react too fast. It’s hard to remember to do that in the moment.

  “We’re going to do another exercise,” she says. “Now, sit back, close your eyes, and I want you to think hard about Linda and what is it that you want from the relationship?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I answer before I do what she says. “I don’t want to throw it all away. She’s caring. I was one of several foster children that she took in with open arms. Wes was her first. She made sure that I felt like I was at home, and once I was old enough to leave, they offered to pay for college—because they considered me one of their own.”

  “Close your eyes and think. What comes to mind?”

  “I still want to organize a supplies-drive for back to school. Have a tea and cookie exchange with her friends so we can collect toys and distribute them to the shelters downtown. Maybe not everything can go back to how it was, but I want my Linda back. I don’t want to lose her.” I say with conviction, knowing in my heart that it’s exactly what I want to do.

  “When you’re ready, reach out to her. I’m here to guide you through if things get tough.”

  “It’s hard to know where to start.”

  “Life is just like that, a mountain range. You have the choice to either climb them or admire them. If you stay in the foothills, there won’t be any reward. The excitement is at the top where you can see all the splendor.”

  “It’s similar to the situation I was in when I decided to come back,” I say.

  I could’ve chosen forty-eight other states, but once I looked into each one of them, I decided that coming back was best for me. Sterling’s here. He’s my only family. The weather is better: even when it’s cold, there’s sun. People feel better when they see the sunlight. I missed Colorado on cloudy days. That’s why a center here would be ideal, because the weather could help the patients.

  “When I moved back, the rewards multiplied as the days passed. Even meeting Wes was a blessing I wasn’t expecting.”

  “You didn’t take him into consideration at all while deciding?”

  “No. I knew that seeing him was inevitable. I hang out with Sterling and we co-own the gallery. Thinking about the encounter wasn’t easy. Sometimes my throat felt like it was closing; others it was just nerves. Up until last Tuesday, I assumed he’d moved on with his life.”

  “I take it he’s single, like you.”

  “Yes, he mentioned that he tried to date a couple of times,” I say, realizing how relieved I was when I found out he was unattached. “But said he didn’t see the point when his heart belonged to someone else—me.”

  “How do you feel about him?” she asks.

  I can’t help it, my lips curl into a smile. “My heart skips when I see him, and butterflies flutter in my stomach just thinking about him. The time that we spent apart felt eternal, and yet it seems like just yesterday that we shared our first kiss. We fell back into our friendship easily.

  “Boom,” I say, snapping my fingers. “We just connected from the second we locked gazes. I resisted him. He didn’t budge. It’s impossible not to engage in a conversation or accept an invitation to spend the evening with him via FaceTime.”

  Evelyn twirls her finger twice close to her ear. “I hear a little doubt mixed in with your excitement.”

  “It’s hard not to be afraid. What if it doesn’t work out?

  “When I first told him about what happened to me, he was distant. I expected a hug, words of reassurance that my past didn’t matter, and that he still cared about me. Instead, he detached and started planning his vengeance. Now I get it. He was hurting, and I can’t expect that a guy like him wouldn’t try to retaliate, but it wasn’t what I needed. I was already shutting down.”

  “What do you think about those days, now that you know the facts?”

  “We understand each other. That we were in a bad place. He had his own set of problems that he’d chosen to ignore. It’s hard to accept it, but I was beyond help.”

  “How do you see your relationsh
ip moving forward?”

  “One moment I envision us together, the next I shy away from the idea. That’s why I accepted his request for ten dates.”

  “Ten dates?” Her brows raise in question.

  I explain the letter to her and how Wes thinks we can find our way back to each other in ten dates.

  “When the trial is over, if things didn’t work out, he’ll back off.”

  “Are you excited?”

  “Very,” I agree. “We never dated. I mean, we kind of did because for three years he focused all his free time and energy on me. He’d come to California for the weekend and take me to dinner or we’d watch movies at my apartment. Sometimes we’d go hiking or drive to Napa and tour wineries. We didn’t have a title, didn’t hug or even kiss. But we were pretty much like a couple in a relationship.”

  “Is that where you want to be?”

  “No. I want to be in a place where we both recognize our feelings and own them. I want to fall in love with him—be intimate with him.”

  “You want this experiment to succeed.”

  I open my mouth and shake my head once, but then I stop. Who am I kidding? I should be honest with myself. This isn’t a game—it’s my life. My future. My happiness.

  Wes is my dream.

  “Yes, I do.” I nod several times. “I’m just not sure about being intimate.”

  “Let me back up a few weeks.” She goes through her notes. “You said, ‘I’d have to be madly in love to let anyone touch me. This guy would have to love me unconditionally and not care about my appearance. I don’t think someone like that exists. Even if he does, I’m not sure if I could have sex. The last time I tried, he left right after he touched me. At first, I felt loved and cherished. When he stopped, I still wanted more—for him to hug me. Instead, he left, leaving me feeling alone and unwanted.’”

  “That was Wes,” I mumble.

  I found him in his room, leaning against the wall, touching himself while music blasted through the house. It brought on a flashback of Shaun, a bad one. That night I was transported back to my room where Ava was on her knees and a guy was thrusting his dick down her throat and she was crying. I was next. I tried to escape, but Shaun caught me right by the door and pulled me back by the hair. He tied me up down in the basement where I stayed for an entire weekend.

  “It happened the same night I confessed everything.”

  I tremble as I work through the memory, counting my quartz. I’m safe.

  “Maybe once you’re ready, you’ll have to establish rules around sex and define your limitations,” she suggests.

  “That night, when Wes touched me, I panicked for a few seconds. Remembering that I was with him was what calmed me. I just don’t know if after everything that’s happened between us, we can see past the pain and be completely open.”

  “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?” Evelyn asks.

  “I can see our future. This time it’s easy to close my eyes and see us in my backyard on a Saturday afternoon hanging out with our dogs.”

  The alarm buzzes. Our hour is over.

  “I feel uneasy having so many happy thoughts and being simultaneously terrified about everything that could go wrong,” I say, hoping that I can get at least a few more words of advice before tomorrow.

  “Trust your instincts, Abby.” She drops three words that mean absolutely nothing to me.

  “Do you feel comfortable not coming in until your next scheduled appointment?

  “Wednesday?” I exhale harshly. “Can I bring you on our date?”

  She laughs. “I’m not sure what my family would think. You can make it on your own. Trust yourself.”

  “Sounds easy, but it feels like a daunting task. Trust is such a complicated word.”

  “The past is the past,” she says. “It stays there. Just don’t forget what you lost. I’m not asking you to forget the nights that you spent crying, or the emptiness, the loneliness, the self-loathing you felt. But do move forward.

  “If you relapse, don’t judge yourself. Take a moment and move on from that place. It might not feel like it, but you have other options. Choose another path. Find a place that’ll keep you safe from the memories and will allow you to continue your journey. Trust that you’re strong enough to keep going and smart enough to make the right choices.”

  “I’d like to come back on Monday, after the first date.” I pull my phone out to check my calendar.

  “Sorry, I don’t have anything open that day, but we could do Tuesday morning, around eight o’clock,” she suggests.

  “Nah, we can wait until Wednesday.” I rise from my seat.

  “But if I need you, I’ll call you,” I say before leaving her office. “Goodbye, and give my thanks to your family for letting me borrow you for an hour.”

  21

  Abby

  “We own a ranch?” Sterling stares at the abandoned sign as we drive forward. “This could be perfect for my workshop. The abandoned warehouse.” He points to a shed.

  As we tour the almost five-hundred-acre lot, we find several abandoned buildings. Two barns, a stable, and a house.

  Then, he drives toward one of the red buildings. “That barn can be where I—”

  “Get off my property, Sterling Ahern.”

  “Calm down, Absters. It’s a joke.”

  “Did Wes ever mention the ranch?”

  “He hasn’t ever been here, but he did tell me the story behind the property.”

  It belonged to their great-great-grandfather. No one had ever paid attention to it. Will inherited it but ignored the place due to its low property value. Wes didn’t care much about it either.

  “I’m a lucky woman,” I say, getting out of the car after Sterling parks in front of the barn. “I love it. We can try to keep some of the buildings. Like the main house. It looks sturdy.”

  “It has mice and snakes,” Sterling jokes.

  “Shut up, Slugger.” I shriek. “Nothing you say will keep me away from it.”

  “You have your hundred acres, leave the rest to me,” he starts taking pictures around the area. “I’d like to come over when you bring the architect. My Monday is pretty open.”

  “As lovely as it’d be to start on Monday, I can’t skip the paperwork. We haven’t set a price yet,” I remind him.

  “I agree about the paperwork, but you don’t have to pay us a penny. This place is yours. Wes and I settled it last night.”

  “Only if you’re both sure, because that leaves me with enough money to build.”

  “One hundred percent sure,” he assures me. “And if you need more capital we have plenty of properties that we can sell. Like the family house in Belize. Mom doesn’t want it.”

  “Wait. You have a house in Belize?”

  He nods twice. “We stopped using it when Wes went away to college. We own a bunch of useless stuff. Dad believed in owning real estate. He just had no idea what to do with it. Wes and I decided to put them to work. We still have to discuss the ones that Mom ‘cares’ about.” He draws quotation marks in the air.

  “What does that mean?”

  “There are some she doesn’t want to get rid of unless it’s necessary,” he explains. “I don’t know where they are, or care,” he explains vaguely.

  “Anyway, we’re thinking that most of those properties can become part of a trust that feeds your charity. Technically, you’ll own them. You can either sell them or lease them.” He shrugs. “Or just forget them.”

  “What about your mom?” I doubt they shared all this with her.

  “She agreed with that decision.”

  “Oh,” I say casually.

  That can’t be. Linda doesn’t take charities casually. I’m tempted to ask about it, but instead, I let it go.

  “Oh?” He raises a doubtful brow. “Is that all you have to say about my mother?”

  “There’s not much to say.” I walk toward the main house.

  “What happened between you two?”

&nbs
p; “She stopped talking to me,” I explain, touching the right side of my chest lightly. “I have feelings. It hurt.”

  “Have you ever thought of mentioning that to her?” He grins with infuriating satisfaction.

  “I’ll take it into consideration,” I say casually.

  “You should do it soon,” he yells.

  “Stop yelling at me. I said I’d do it.”

  “I’m not yelling! Just trying out the acoustics of this place!”

  “Ugh! You’re something else,” I sneer.

  “Special, clever … What am I, Abby?”

  “Annoying.” I stick my tongue out, behaving as childishly as him.

  “I like the place,” I conclude. “It’s perfect, and it has plenty of trees. Yet, it’s not overwhelmed by them. We can build around them without having to cut or remove any. At least, I think that’s possible.”

  “You are in love.” He teases me with his elbow.

  “Yes,” I sigh, twirling a couple of times. “Wes deserves a prize, and I hope the architect agrees with my ideas.”

  “I’ll talk to our lawyer. He’ll have the paperwork ready for you next week.”

  “Are you sure you’re not charging me a cent?” I frown, a little skeptical.

  “Just pay for my lunch and we’re even.” He extends his hand. “Shake on it before I regret it.”

  “You’re a terrible negotiator.” I meet his hand, laughing.

  “That’s why I have you and Wes.”

  — — —

  After lunch, Sterling drops me by the house. He has a few things to do in the gallery and a hot date. I want to rest a little and start planning my next steps, like registering my non-profit and asking Wes and Sterling to be part of my board of directors. Luna already agreed to sign on when I first started playing around with the idea. Linda would be a perfect addition, but I just don’t know if that’ll happen.

  I send a text to Wes after I turn on my computer, checking to see if he’s available to talk. Within a few seconds, my phone is ringing.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “You called? Tell me your next wish, and it’ll be granted.” He sounds like a genie.