Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series

by Vickers, Maria

  My heart did not agree. It screamed at me to open the door and let him in, because it believed in him.

  On the other side of the coin sat my logic, who wholeheartedly disagreed. She reminded me that if he truly loved me, if his feelings were real, he wouldn’t have shut me out for a month. To which, my heart countered that his jealousy prevented him from reacting properly. The war being waged within me exhausted me.

  Pushing my walker down the hall, I shuffled to the front of my apartment and quietly placed one of my hands on the door, trying to feel him through the cool metal. He was still pounding on it, and I could feel the vibrations travel up my arm. But I refused to answer it. I couldn’t. I’d left the rehearsal in order to get my head on straight, and I still hadn’t succeeded.

  I loved him. I couldn’t deny it, and if he actually loved me, it would make me over the moon ecstatic. But, how could it be true? For months, I continually heard him say that I wasn’t his type. He told me he would help me find love, but he could never be my Prince Charming. Chad even confided in me that I was the exact opposite of Bryan’s type. So how could I believe him? Why now? How was I supposed to forget everything he’d ever said, and accept his sudden confession? Did he have some sort of epiphany, because he assumed I started dating Chad? This was real life, and not some dime store romance novel. I couldn’t do it. If I let him through that door, my heart wouldn’t survive.

  My hand fell back onto my walker handle, numb and practically limp. I messed up because I fell in love with the one man I wasn’t supposed to, the one man who probably knew me better than anyone. He opened me up, and exposed most of my secrets and insecurities. I didn’t hate him for it. If anything, I was grateful to him. Due to his perseverance and doggedness, I’d faced a lot of my old ghosts. Bryan had done that for me.

  Maybe it was a hero complex or something. Maybe I didn’t really love him. Maybe it was like that Stockholm syndrome, or whatever they called it whenever the victim fell in love with their captor.

  But I knew better. It wasn’t. While I did feel grateful to him for what he had done for me, my feelings for him went beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Saying otherwise, was a lie. The day he took me skydiving, he handed me the world by giving me something I believed was lost forever. His body pressed into mine as we jumped out of the plane and flew through the air, the feel of his arms around me as he tried to protect me on our landing, it felt like home. Everything about him and that day felt right…utterly perfect.

  The longer I stood next to the door, the more I wanted to throw caution to the wind and open it. I needed to walk away. I should walk away.

  Then again, maybe it was time to stop living my life so cautiously. Maybe, it was time to start living again…

  Not yet.

  I walked to my couch and fell onto it, grabbed a throw pillow, and pressed it over my head to mute the sounds of Bryan’s constant pounding. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but suddenly, nothing except silence could be heard from the front door. Had he finally given up? Or was that I heard shuffling outside? Unsure, I got up, and carefully peered out of the small window next to door. He sat on the ground, propped against the hunk of metal he’d been banging on. It almost appeared as if he was settling in for…the night? An hour? What and why? Why would he do this? Just leave! With his eyes staring out into the darkness in front of him, he sat there waiting, and I sat there watching him until I couldn’t watch any longer.

  Lightning flashed, lighting up the blackened night sky. The rumbles of thunder cracked, breaking the stillness of the night. Then the rain began. Not a mere gentle drizzle, this was a torrential downpour. Yet, Bryan remained unmoving. The rain hit him, spitting on him, but he ignored it.

  I couldn’t let him suffer.

  Against my better judgement, already believing I would regret it in the morning, I unlocked the door. He must’ve heard me above the angry sounds of nature, because by the time I pulled it open, he stood there with a hopeful expression on his face, looking like a drowned rat. “Emma—”

  “Come on in. I’ll get you a towel. Mel will kill me if you got sick and didn’t show up to her wedding,” I interjected. Turning around slowly, I walked toward my bathroom where I kept the dry towels. On the short trip, I begged my heart to stop pounding, to quiet down, but it completely ignored me. Traitor.

  “Here.” I shove the towel in his face and told him, “I think I have a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt that’ll fit you. We can throw your clothes in the dryer if you want.” I avoided making eye contact.

  “Em, I need—”

  “Hurry up and dry off. You’re getting my floor wet, which makes it dangerous for me. I’m a bit of a klutz sometimes. I’ll go and see if I can find the clothes.” When he didn’t follow, both relief and disappointment duked it out within me. Logic versus heart again. This man was going to be my undoing.

  It didn’t take me long to find the clothes I’d offered to him, but a small part of me wished it had taken longer, especially when I returned to find his shirt clinging to his chest and arms like a second skin.

  I gulped. The material defined his muscles, making it look more like someone had taken a paint brush and painted the color onto him. The visual made my mouth water. Unable to meet his gaze, I focused on his chest, fighting the small party of me that wanted to rake him from head to toe. “Here. They should fit. And before you complain about wearing women’s clothes, they’re men’s shorts. I got them from the sports store online.”

  “LA Surf?”

  “If you don’t like my team or if you choose to complain, you can stay in wet clothes and get the fuck out for all I care.”

  “No, I’ll change. Thanks. Where’s Curley?”

  “My sister’s. She’s watching him while I deal with wedding stuff this weekend. I was supposed to be staying with Mel tonight, but plans changed. Ellie is going to the wedding, but since she’s not in the wedding, she volunteered to keep him for me since I had planned…” I cleared my throat, stopping myself before I repeated myself. My nervous energy increased around him, and I couldn’t calm down. I was on edge. “There’s extra towels in the bathroom if you need them.” As he brushed passed me, I instinctively inhaled. His scent was like an aphrodisiac. I desired him. I wanted to grab him, throw myself into his arms, and never let go until we were both tired and sated. Although, I firmly believed that I would never have enough.

  I behaved. My feet remained firmly planted until I heard the bathroom door close. Then and only then, did I release my pent up breath, exhaling loudly and slowly. Stop it.

  If I had to deal with him, I had to be comfortable, or at least sitting. I moved to the couch and sat down, listening carefully for him to come back into the living room. It wasn’t until I heard him moving toward me that I realized my mistake. I should have sat on my oversized chair instead of the couch. The couch had too much space, gave him too many options which allowed him to sit with me. Big mistake. Monumental. ‘Keep calm, Emma,’ I kept telling myself.

  “Where’s your dryer?”

  “I’ll—”

  “Just tell me where it is, Em. I’m a grown man. I know how to use a dryer.”

  Damn! There went my excuse to get up and move to a new location. “In the kitchen, behind the door on your right. The other one is the pantry.”

  “Thanks.”

  I heard him moving around before I heard the dryer come alive. Now that the dryer had been turned on, my nerves and anxiety kicked it up another notch. I should have moved anyway while he was in the kitchen.

  “Thanks for letting me come in out of the rain,” Bryan spoke softly as he settled onto the opposite side of the couch.

  See, I knew I should have moved, but even the oversized chair would not have been far enough away. “No problem. Mel would kill me if she knew you were here and I left you out in the storm. I don’t want to ruin her wedding.”

  “I wouldn’t have gotten sick from a little rain.”

  “What? You think you�
��re Superman or something? People get colds all the time from getting caught in the rain. Unless you were on your way to Luke’s, then you can TYA.”

  “TYA?”

  “Take your ass.”

  Chuckling, he said, “No, I actually planned to stay out there all night if I had to.”

  “Why?” Defensively, I demanded he answer me. I was on high alert. Defcon 1.

  His body shifted until he sat on the middle cushion, a little closer to me. I couldn’t escape him. “Because we have to talk about what happened at the church.”

  My head shook vigorously from side to side. “Nope. Let’s forget it and move on with our lives.”

  “I don’t want to forget!” he snapped. His fingers on both hands combed through his hair in agitation, and he pulled it.. I wasn’t sure if he groaned from pain—I didn’t realize he was a masochist—or frustration. I saw his lips moving, counting down from ten, and when he addressed me again, his tone sounded quieter and more civil. “I don’t want to forget anything about you, Emma. I don’t want to forget our conversations or skydiving or dinner. Until you, everything bored me except my job. Girls were fucking annoying, and anytime I had to talk to them, I wanted to rip my ears off after five minutes. You were always different.”

  “You’re a good friend too.”

  “No! I mean yes, you are, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now. The day you messaged me that you had decided to go out with Chad, I sat in my room stewing about it all day. The longer I sat there, the more pissed off I got.”

  “Bryan, I get it. I’m just the shiny new toy. You’ll get over it.” I tried brushing his confession again in order to protect my traitorous heart that wanted to shout for joy from the mountain tops. My hands ached to reach for him, my lips wanted to feel his pressed against them again, and even my logic had started to climb over the wall in order to join my heart. But I still fought. I still rejected his confession.

  “I WON’T! I don’t want to get over this or you.” Grabbing my face in his hands, he forced it upwards, and I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to meet his stare. His thumbs brushed my cheeks softly. In a weird way, his actions soothed me, calming my racing heart. “I don’t want to get over you, Em. I know you don’t believe me, but I love you with all that I am.”

  I squeezed my eyes tighter. My body should have expelled all of the tears I’d stored, but fresh tears burned my eyes. He was too cruel.

  “Em, look at me.” I did not open my eyes. “Fine then. If you won’t look at me, I’ll just keep talking. I know I should’ve talked to you more after I left. I messed up. I thought you were with Chad, and I let my jealousy get the best of me.”

  When I still didn’t do what he requested, he continued with a sigh. “Contrary to your muddled way of thinking, you’re not some shiny new toy, and I didn’t concoct my feelings out of thin air because of Chad. Fuck him. Take him out of the equation and I still love you. Evan believes I started falling for you the night I met you at karaoke.”

  That stunned me, and in my shock, my eyes popped open.

  His smile took my breath away. His face was so close to mine, and once our gazes locked, his eyes held me prisoner and I couldn’t escape.

  “There they are. Chocolate brown eyes with flecks of gold. They’re darker on the outside than they are on the inside. Full of life. I realized when I was here a month ago how expressive they are. All three times we were together, I could usually tell what you were thinking and feeling by looking into your eyes. The day we went skydiving, you were nervous, but excited at the same time. When we went to dinner after going to the gym, you were confused when I asked you about Mr. Smooth. An irritated fire bloomed in them when I told you to stay away from Chad. I knew then that you’d go out with him. I hated it. I hated picturing you and him together.”

  “So why didn’t you stop me?” I whispered. My logic, which had climbed to the top of the wall, was on the verge of jumping to the other side to join my heart.

  “I didn’t realize how much I loved you until I read your message. By then, I had already gone home. I should’ve stopped you though. I should’ve called and begged you not to go.”

  I tried to shake my head, but his hands held me tight. “No, you can’t. I mean, I’m not your type.”

  “You’re exactly my type. You are everything I’ve been looking for.”

  “I can’t be athletic.”

  “I’m not asking you to be.”

  “I can’t be blonde. I look horrible with blonde hair.”

  “I like you as a brunette. I can’t see you as a blonde.”

  “What if I change to blue?”

  “I would still be ok with blue hair,” Bryan replied quickly, a humorous glint in his eye. He probably thought I was a little crazy.

  Okay, it even sounded a little crazy to me. Suddenly, everything seemed funny causing me to snicker. We both laughed for a couple of minutes, but he never released me.

  When I finished laughing, I asked, “What about all the other girls you’ve dated in the past. Even Chad—”

  “Fuck Chad!” Bryan let me go and stood up. His hands pumped opened and closed as he paced back and forth. “I won’t deny that I’ve leaned toward blondes in the past, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you!”

  “A tiger can’t change its stripes.”

  “Really? You want to use that one on me? Then you can’t change either. Are you telling me you’re the same person you were before you got sick? The same person you were when we started talking?” I opened my mouth to speak, but he wouldn’t let me say anything. “I know you’re not. You’re more open, and you’ve started put yourself out there more than you did before our agreement. And if try to say you haven’t changed, then you’re a damn liar.”

  At this point, I didn’t know if he had purposely pushed my buttons or tried to make a point, but if attacking me had been his plan to win me over, he desperately needed a new one. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I love you, Emma, and I could care less about your disease or the fact you have to use a walker or a cane. I don’t care if you aren’t active, or that there’s days you have to stay in bed. I want to take care of you, I want to discover new things with you, and I want to love you. Yet you have the audacity to sit there and say that a tiger can’t change his stripes. I guess you’re in the same boat as me. If that’s true, you can’t change either.”

  Him and his fucking logic. I didn’t want logic. I wanted to dig a hole so I could hideaway in it and protect myself. In my hole, I would never again have to question someone’s motives or words. In the past, I believed men cared about me, Allen being one of them, but all of them left me with nothing except scars and disappointment—especially after my illness. Could I give him the chance he sought?

  Deep inside me, I knew Bryan was different from any other guy I’d ever been with before, but different didn’t always equal better. He listened to me, made me laugh, and unknowingly lit up my world, driving away some of the darkness that consumed me. Was it possible that he really love me?

  Lifting my head, I gave him a hard stare. “Why?”

  I saw a split second of confusion before his eyes cleared. I wasn’t sure if his knees buckled, which seemed unlikely for a man like him, or if he’d dropped to his knees in front of me on purpose, but once on the ground, he grabbed my hands, squeezing them.

  “You’ll get dog hair all over you if you stay down there,” I warned him before he said anything.

  “Then I get dog hair on me. It won’t kill me.” He took a steadying breath. “I love you because you are you. You’re a strong woman who’s had to deal with shitty things in her life, and instead of giving up, you fought and persevered. You have a strength within you born from adversity. You’re beautiful, even with your brown hair and brown eyes. I don’t care if you’re not athletic. I think I’ve proven that I don’t mind carrying you when you can’t walk or when you need my support. Besides, you don’t just lie in bed all day. You’re loyal, trustwo
rthy, beautiful, curvy—I love your curves—funny, and I love talking to you more than I love flying. I never thought I’d say that to anyone in my lifetime. You’ve also opened my eyes to a new world. Since we started talking, the first thing I do when I’m done with work is check for messages from you. It’s also the first thing I do when I wake up, and when I go to lunch. The days I don’t talk to you before going to bed, I feel like something’s missing from my day. You’re it for me. I don’t care what everyone thinks my type was before you, what matters is the future. I love you.”

  I hadn’t realized I was crying, until he reached up and wiped away my tears. I found myself daring to believe in him.

  The hand he used to brush away my tears, brushed my hair behind my ear before it gripped my hand once again. “You know. When we were at the gym, I wanted to punch Mr. Smooth for flirting with you, and then I wanted to wring my friend’s neck for saying you weren’t his type all because you had a walker. I wanted to kill Chad because I knew he would be good for you, and he could be everything you needed. I hated him for it because I wanted to be that man. I didn’t talk to you because I was jealous, and because I was terrified my fingers couldn’t lie to you. They would’ve told you what I felt, and I felt like I should save those words for when I could tell you in person. I didn’t call for the same reason. I needed to be here in front of you, touching you, when I told you that I loved you. I was an ass for ever saying you weren’t my type. You are exactly my type.”

  Crying and sniffling, I tried to wipe my face on my sleeve without releasing his hands. I hated letting him go even for a moment.

  “Em?” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard, waiting for my answer. He wanted to know his confession had not been made in vain.