Too Close to Call: A Romancing the Clarksons Novella

by Tessa Bailey

  “What the hell are you talking about, someone else?”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t have felt this awful afterward,” she shouted back, finally succeeding in breaking free, reaching out to snag her dress. Oh God, she had to get home. Something was wrong with her. Her foundation felt like it was cracking straight down the middle. “You were honest with me, so I-I guess I shouldn’t be mad. But this doesn’t feel like us. We hook up a-and then you leave? This doesn’t feel like the us we used to be. I’d rather remember us like we were.”

  Dress pulled on, Bree finally turned toward Kyler and saw his face. He stood a few yards away, breathtaking and bare-chested in the moonlight, his boxers pulled back into place. His face was paler than the orb lighting the forest, but when he saw her tears, devastation rippled over his features.

  “This is what I get for holding back,” he whispered.

  Chapter Eleven

  At what point in his life would he realize his mother was always right? The possible repercussions of what he’d just done socked Kyler in the stomach, one after the other, as if he were standing in front of a fast pitch machine without a bat.

  “Bree, please.” He took a step forward and she retreated, increasing his panic. “Please don’t cry.”

  “This is what you get for holding back. What does that mean?”

  Kyler dropped his head into his hands. Where the hell did he begin? “I can’t get my thoughts together when you’re crying.”

  “Try harder.”

  He rasped a sound. Shit, the more he concentrated, the worse his reality became. He’d been deceptive. Maybe he’d considered playing it close to the vest necessary to his plan, but sleeping with Bree when he hadn’t been honest? That behavior was inexcusable and now… Now the love of his life thought the worst. Thought he’d brought her to this place that held so many memories just to get his rocks off. Well, he could clear that nonsense right up.

  Unfortunately, the truth could send Bree jumping into the creek, doing a freestyle stroke to get away from him. Too bad. He’d landed himself in that same creek with no paddle and now he owed her an explanation. God, he’d sell his soul right now to stop her tears.

  Without taking his gaze off Bree longer than necessary, Kyler stooped down to retrieve his shirt, pulling it on. First off, if she ran, he didn’t want to chase her naked. Second, a man ought to have his nipples covered when a woman’s claws came out. “I’m asking you to take what you know about me, Bree. Take what you know and apply it to this situation.”

  Bree’s swiped at her damp eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “Think. Think about senior year when the fall carnival came to town. You remember that?” Her nod was hesitant. “I emailed the director two months in advance asking him to let us in an hour before everyone else on opening day. I emailed him and made phone calls until he caved. All because you loved the Ferris wheel and I wanted you to be the first one to take a ride. You remember that?”

  She crossed her arms. “Are you trying to buy yourself points here?”

  “No, I’m trying to remind you that I’m a planner.” He took another step in her direction, thankful when she stayed put. “Think, Bree. Do you really believe I would come to Bloomfield unannounced, show up at the dance, and risk being poisoned by your daddy…just to hook up with you? Not that touching you, kissing you again, wouldn’t be worth all that work and a lot more, supergirl, but you know me better than that.” Tension was beginning to creep into her frame, so Kyler took that final step to bring them toe to toe. “You know I want more with you, Bree Caroline. You know I want it all. And I’m not going to stop until I get it.”

  A little puff of air passed through her lips, thoughts zigzagging behind her eyes. “I—what?” Her swallow sounded more like a thunk. “You said you went away and healed.”

  “That was the biggest lie I told you.” Of their own accord, his hands slipped around her upper arms and held fast. “You broke my heart. And it’s still broken.” Saying the truth out loud after keeping it penned up for so long started flames licking inside his blood, sending gray smoke whirling inside his head. “I’ve loved you as far back as my memory reaches. I will never fucking stop. I came to town for one damn reason, Bree. So I could leave here with my wife. You.”

  “Kyler,” she breathed, her cheeks growing more and more damp, every tear doing its best to slay him. “That’s…crazy. We haven’t been together in four years.”

  Holding back or being delicate was out the window. Cinder and ash and truth poured out of him, scorching him on the way out. “And yet I’ve been faithful. My hands are meant for you alone and I haven’t laid them on a single other person.” He held them up, palms out, as if the proof was visible. “Tell me you haven’t been faithful right back, so I can kiss your lying mouth.”

  When she didn’t respond, Kyler had his answer and relief melted in his gut.

  “You’re my girl. You always have been.” His voice shook. “That’s why you run and hide every time I come to town, because your heart wouldn’t let you forget it.”

  He watched as she desperately searched for a defense. “You didn’t exactly come find me, either.”

  “I wasn’t ready, Bree. I was still angry. At you for cutting me off. At myself for not being good and smart enough to keep you.” She made a sound and looked away. “Now I’m only angry over how much time has passed. I forgive us both. But I can’t make it without you. I got called to the stage on Draft Day and all I could think about was you. How none of it meant shit unless you were standing beside me.”

  It made him want to tear out his hair, the disbelief she turned on him. “This is my home, Kyler. Nothing has changed. I won’t leave it or my family.”

  “Well, you’re my home and I won’t leave you behind, either.” He shook her a little, knocking tears free of their perch on her eyelashes. “There are some things I missed last time we stood in this spot. You’ve got reasons for not wanting to give up this life to start a new one with me, the way we planned. I’m going to learn every one of those reasons.” Kyler braced himself. “But right now, I just need you to tell me you still love me. Tell me you never stopped.”

  The war that went on inside Bree was beautiful. She sobbed and blinked through it, words being formed and discarded on her kiss-swollen lips. “You know I hate surprises, Ky. You can’t just come here and spring this on me. E-expect me to tell you what you want to hear. If I’d known you wanted to get back together… If you’d told me the truth—”

  “We wouldn’t be standing here. So I can’t regret it.” Forcing himself to breathe through the agony and disappointment, Kyler used the hem of his shirt to wipe her cheeks. “Only thing I regret is making you cry.”

  “I feel like I’m hurting you all over again.” She batted his hands away, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You’re hurting, too.” Banking the urge to hold her and refuse to let go, he pointed back to the spot where they’d made love. “That feeling you got afterward? The one that said me leaving was wrong? That’s fate trying to tell you something, Bree. I’m begging you to listen.”

  “I won’t leave,” she whispered.

  His heart twisted. “Look me in the eye, Bree Caroline.” He stepped closer so she wouldn’t have a choice, her head falling back to maintain his gaze. “I won’t leave this town without you.”

  Knowing Bree as long as he had, Kyler knew when she’d gone her maximum number of rounds. No decisions or resolutions were going to be made tonight, or even tomorrow, because his girl was a thinker. A brooder. After the shit he’d been pulling all week, Kyler reckoned he owed her some stewing time, much as staying away from her would be pure, punishing torture.

  “Come on, supergirl.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll drive you home.”

  He’d waited four years. He’d wait a hundred more.

  * * * *

  Bree snapped her supply bag shut and took a deep breath.

  Two days was long enough to
be holed up in the house.

  Who was she kidding? It hadn’t been nearly long enough. She was still reeling from Kyler’s confession and that wouldn’t be changing any time soon.

  He still loved her.

  He’d been faithful.

  He wasn’t leaving Bloomfield without her.

  Bree from the past was somewhere laughing like a lunatic, because Bree of the present had broken the cardinal rule when it came to Kyler Tate. She’d let her guard down. Growing comfortable in the past had led to sunrise Ferris wheel rides, gifts left inside her locker, taps on her window at night.

  Growing up, a lot of people had underestimated Kyler. He looked the part of a man who was treated to surprises and pleasure from others. A man who had things handed to him. Not the other way around. But the gorgeous football god had never failed to amaze her. Somehow she’d forgotten—and once and for all been knocked straight back onto her ass.

  Grateful for the silent house, Bree sat down on the bench in the entryway, applying pressure to the center of her chest. She felt winded. Every time she got a burst of energy, she would think of Kyler’s pleading eyes, his familiar face outlined by the night sky, and she would ache. Ache. Almost like she’d suppressed the misery for four years and was only now allowing it to manifest.

  She looked across the hall at the family portrait hanging there. Her mother sat at the forefront, Samuel’s hands on her shoulders, Bree at her side, Kira on her knee. There was a distant look in the woman’s eye, as if she’d been dreaming about some far-off place. Tahiti, Berlin…Los Angeles. Every time Bree passed the picture, she forced herself to look at it. Used it as a reminder to be satisfied with what she’d been given. In Bloomfield with her family, she was happy. Content.

  There was nothing more to it.

  When she stood up, bag in hand, the uncomfortable throbbing remained in her chest, but she ignored it, pushing out the front door.

  Kyler stood on the porch, his eyes weighed down with dark circles.

  “Bree,” he said, his voice a husky scrape.

  Her heart picked up into a gallop. “Ky.”

  They stood there for a full minute, listening to the rain fall softly on the eaves above. Lord, Kyler had been right about one thing. She’d avoided him every time he came to Bloomfield because the sight of him affected her like nothing else could. Her mouth dried up, her pulse creating a racket. Now that she knew he still loved her, it took all of her willpower to keep her knees from buckling. The power of his emotions was so thick, reaching out and curling around her.

  But what about her own? Had she spent so long convincing herself she was getting over him that she’d succeeded?

  Her heart didn’t seem to think so. Not in the slightest.

  Bree thought of the picture hanging in the entryway and squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  The wattage of his gaze dimmed, but he nodded. “Where are you headed?”

  “House call.”

  “Mind if I come with?”

  “I certainly do.” She took the umbrella out of her bag, opening it. “It wouldn’t be very professional of me to show up with an audience.”

  “Doubt anyone in Bloomfield would mind.”

  “The appointment isn’t in Bloomfield.”

  Bree recognized her mistake when Kyler’s brows slashed inward. “Where?”

  Schooling her features, she breezed past him down the stairs. “Hashtown.”

  Kyler was hot on her heels. “This wouldn’t happen to be the trainer that keeps asking you out, is it?” He slapped a hand on the driver’s side door to keep her from opening it. She gasped when he aligned their bodies from behind, pressing her up against the car. His mouth found a sensitive spot on her neck and stayed there, his warm breath coasting into her hair, down the collar of her T-shirt. “You wouldn’t want to drive me stark raving mad like that, would you, Bree?”

  “Not on purpose,” she whispered. “There’s a mare about to foal. The horse trusts me and I want to be there.”

  “Have some mercy on me,” he enunciated. “And let me come with you.”

  “Fine,” she said, his urgency cutting through her reservations. “Yes. Okay.”

  When he took away the heat of his body, the weight of it, Bree no longer felt tethered to the ground. After taking a moment to compose herself, she turned to find Kyler growing increasingly soaked by the rain, droplets running down his face and bare arms, the white T-shirt he wore clinging to his muscular chest. A chest that started a rapid rise and fall when he caught her looking. “What other mercies can I earn from you today?” Kyler rasped. “If you’ve already forgotten how I beg for that mercy, my tongue is dying to show you.”

  When he came close once more and stopped a mere inch away, her nipples tingled, making her wish she’d worn a second bra again. Especially when his gaze swept down and made blatant promises to the traitors. “Kyler—”

  “Shhh.” He dropped his head down and grazed wet, masculine lips over hers, sending her ovaries into chaos. One hand rose to bury in the hair at her nape, tilting her head to one side. Then, slowly, he raked that hot, open mouth up the side of her neck. “Just let me soak you up.”

  “Soak me up,” she repeated, her nerve endings going wild.

  He hummed in the affirmative, letting their hips meet and press so she could feel his thick need against her belly. “Soak you up.” His tongue traced a path up to her ear, creating an answering tug between her legs. “Hell, just soak you. In both of us. I’m full to aching. Don’t tell me you aren’t after that reminder of what we’ve been going without.”

  Bree almost succumbed and let Kyler have her, right there against the truck, because hell yes, she’d been replaying their night at the creek on mental repeat. Now wasn’t the time, though. Not while they were smack dab inside a gray area with no resolution in sight. Furthermore, didn’t she have a job to do in Hashtown? An important one? “I-if you’re going to come with me, there’s no touching.” His jaw tightened until she thought it might shatter, but after a few seconds he stepped back, lifting his hands in surrender. Buried beneath his hunger, there was a hint of that boyish chagrin from her best memories and Bree was hit with a wave of nostalgia so strong, it made her knees tremble. She knew this man so well. Knew him right down to the very core. Always had. “I want to be your friend, Ky. Like you said outside the diner, on your first day back.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry I hid from you.”

  Surprise flickered in his expression, but Bree could tell it was nowhere close to what he wanted to hear. “I’m sorry, too.” His throat worked a moment, before he circled to the passenger side of her truck and climbed in, watching her through the rain dappled glass.

  This was going to be a long afternoon.

  Chapter Twelve

  Being jealous was a first.

  In the past, Kyler had always been possessive in the sense that he enjoyed letting people know the following: Bree belonged to him, he made her happy, and no one else need apply. But Bree never once gave him cause to be actively jealous and vice versa. A pretty rare feat among high school students. Kyler was damn grateful now that they’d been the exception to the rule because it meant Bree trusting his word without question when he said he’d been faithful.

  Bree hadn’t dated, either, so there was no reason to feel edgy and irritable. He didn’t like the fact that she’d been asked out at all, though. Kind of felt like his tonsils were being yanked out with pliers. Not a nice sensation.

  Hell, it didn’t surprise him one bit that another man had taken notice of Bree. Big, beautiful bedroom eyes and a mouth that could snap out a comeback faster than lightning tended to get attention. Throw in that fluid, sexy way she walked, her grace, her intelligence? Kyler should count himself lucky someone else hadn’t gotten the notion to propose to her while he was in Cincinnati.

  Realizing his fingers were digging into the meat of his thighs, Kyler forced himself to rein in the green monster.

  “This is
a bad idea,” Bree muttered, casting him a speculative look from the driver’s seat. “You’re an animal skin toga away from turning into a caveman.”

  “You want to see me in leopard print.” He winked at her. “Hint taken.”

  Bree’s laugh tinkled like jostled bells. “You’re forgetting I already have.”

  The memory came back to him in a series of sounds and blurry pictures. “Valentine’s Day. That’s right.” Wrapping paper tearing. Bree squealing as he tickled her ribs, the present resting on the floor beside them. “You always were creative when it came to giving gifts.”

  “I knew I couldn’t beat you at being thoughtful, so I went for cheap laughs instead.” Turning the truck off the road, she bit her lip. “You still have those leopard print boxers?”

  “I have everything you’ve ever given me.”

  Her eyelids fell, silence filling the car for long moments. “I lived in fear of my father finding those boxers before I could give them to you.” A small smile formed on her mouth. “Afterward, I lost sleep wondering if your mama would find them. You promised me to hand-wash them in the sink, so she wouldn’t.”

  Kyler scratched his chin and braced for impact. “About that…”

  Bree gasped, jerking the wheel of the truck. “Kyler Joseph Tate.”

  “I accidentally put them in the laundry basket once. Came home to find them neatly folded on my pillow.” He shook his head. “My mom has a weird sense of humor.”

  “How am I ever going to look her in the eye again?”

  An image of Bree and his mother sitting side by side at a dinner table made him yearn so hard, he had to take a few seconds to breathe. “You ever bump into my mother around town?”