by S. J. McGran
When I realize no one is paying us attention I consider Jared’s question. I haven’t even kissed the girl, there’s no way I could love her. Right? I want her. I can’t stop thinking about her. I crave her. I miss her.
But, does all of that add up to love?
“Not yet,” I answer honestly, and then it dawns on me that I’m going to. Someday she’s going to let me in and when she does I’ll have no choice but to fall in love with the beautiful, strong, adorable girl. “But, there’s no way in hell I’m going to stop until I do.”
Jared smirks, a knowing, cocky grin. “That’s your answer then.” Knocking his fist on the table once he stands up. “Gotta get back to work. Good luck, buddy.” I watch him walk away and have to laugh. Why the hell didn’t I come to that conclusion?
I’m going to give her a little space, a little time to get her head on straight after that it’s game on. I’m going to prove to her how much I need her, how much I want her.
And I’m not going to stop until I love that girl with every single piece of me. Every goddamn atom that makes up my body is going to love that girl. And more than that she’s going to love me the same way.
Chapter Twenty
Riley
I might have been unsure about coming home, but the second I walked through my parent’s front door a weight was instantly lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t realize how badly I needed my mom until I walked through the door and collapsed into her waiting, open arms.
Tears fell from both of our eyes as we silently held each other. Everything I’ve been keeping to myself for the past several months came bubbling to the surface, I had to tell her, had to come clean.
Pulling back from her embrace I look at my mom, who I look so much like, and finally find the nerve to tell her everything that’s been going on. “Mama, I have to tell you something.”
She smiles sadly at me before wiping away at her tear-stained cheeks, “I know, baby girl. Come on.” Grabbing my hand she pulls me into my old bedroom, the bedroom that even after six years of being gone still looks exactly the same as it did the day I left.
Growing up this was my safe haven, the one place I could let go of everything and just be myself. I spent many nights with Roxy in this room giggling over boys, playing dress-up, and getting ready for dances.
I can’t even count the hours I’ve spent curled up in this bed with my mom sharing every hope, dream, fear, and worry. It’s no wonder she brought me in here today to finally open up to her, to let go of the secrets I’ve held close for so long. Just as we did all those years ago, we lie on the queen size bed, on top of the blankets, curled on our sides, giving the other our undivided attention.
With no preamble, I dive right into it, needing to get it out there. Needing to let it go. In as steady of a voice as I can, I start, “William didn’t leave me for a job, Mama.”
When everything with William went down, I was ashamed, embarrassed, and too afraid to tell my parents the truth so I came up with a cover story. I told them he moved away for a job, and that I was unwilling to go with him so we broke off the engagement. William’s parents had moved out of the state a few years back, and William and I settled out of court, so I felt confident there would be no way my parents would find out the truth.
Taking a deep breath I close my eyes afraid to look into my mother’s—I get my expressive eyes from her, and I know that if I look into her eyes as I tell her the truth I won’t be able to bear what I see there. I won’t be able to stomach the disappointment or worse the pity.
On a sigh, I tell her the entire sordid story. I tell her about William’s continued beatings, the drinking, the awful night when he attacked me. I tell her about Roxy finding me, about the police report I filed, and his being found guilty and sentenced to prison for two years.
Then, before I can chicken out, I tell her about him getting out and showing up at my office unannounced. About Rico, and how protective and caring he was that night. All the while my mom’s silent cries threaten to pull me under. Threaten to turn me back into that weak, timid girl I’m trying so hard to forget existed.
“Did you call the police?”
I nod my head, still unwilling to look at her. “Yeah. He hasn’t reported to his corrections officer, and they can’t find him but they’re looking.”
I feel her arms tighten around me. I can feel her fear, her worry. But, I know the moment she decides to trust me. To trust that I have this under control. Reaching out she grabs my hand, holding it tightly in hers. Her voice is a whisper, but I can hear a hint of a smile in it, “You love him, baby girl?”
Finally opening my eyes I look into my mother’s and what I see there isn’t disappointment or pity, it’s awe. She’s looking at me like she’s proud of me. It takes me a minute to process her question, her reaction taking me so off guard. “William? No. I’ve never loved someone less than I love that man.”
“Well, I would sure hope you’re over that man,” she says with a smile. “No, what I’m wondering is if you love this Rico fellow.”
My eyes go wide as panic floods through me. Love? Rico? Surely that’s not possible. He’s my client. That’s it. That’s all.
Except that’s not all. I can’t keep lying to myself about my feelings for him. He’s so much more than just a client, he’s more than just a friend even. Rico is… I don’t know what he is, but he means something to me. A lot of somethings actually.
That doesn’t mean I love him, though. But, wouldn’t it be nice to love someone again? To be loved in return? Really loved—not the convenient, selfish love William gave me.
If anyone could love me the way I need to be loved, it’s Rico. He has such a kind heart—he’s protective, caring, selfish in the most unselfish way. He understands damage and pain.
But, he walked away when I needed him most. He might not realize it, but that morning, when I bared to him my deepest darkest regrets, my secrets, I needed him to look at me like he’s been looking at me for months. I needed him to look at me like he needs me, wants me so badly he can hardly stay away. I needed the flirtatious, salacious, caring man he’s been all of this time. But, what I got was a man that was too afraid to face someone else’s problems. He pushed me away like he couldn’t look at me. Like I’m the most disgusting, feeble, pathetic woman he’s ever laid eyes on.
“Mama, I want to love that man, I just don’t know if I can,” I say with tears in my eyes. “It doesn’t matter because he could never love me, and I’ll never be with another man that doesn’t love me desperately, completely.”
Without another word she wraps me in her arms, holding me the way she used to hold me when I was just a girl. Pulling back just slightly she looks at me with her “mom face,” her eyes serious begging me to really listen to what she’s saying. “I know you’re scared of trusting another man, but you have to promise me when you find the guy that can give you the kind of love you want, you’re open to feeling it. Don’t shut him out because of your fears of getting hurt.”
Is that what I’m doing? Am I pushing Rico away because I’m afraid of what he could mean to me? What he already means to me?
Or, am I pushing him away because my subconscious knows something I don’t?
I just give her a nod, and a weak smile as I let my tears disappear into her shoulder. This is exactly what I needed. I needed a woman—someone a little more proficient in love than my best friend—to help walk me through things.
I needed to be honest with my mom. The lies were catching up to me, and dragging me down. Despite, not knowing where Rico and I are headed, or even what I want from him, I feel better just for getting the truth about William out there. For having someone else on my side.
Once the tears subside, I push out of my mom’s arms and look at her with a smile—a real smile—on my face for the first time in days. “I’m starving, mama.”
She lets out a laugh and stands from the bed, pulling me with her. “Let’s feed you then. You’re too skinny anyways.”
/> I roll my eyes at her, knowing I’m far from skinny but taking the compliment regardless. I fully intend on spending the next two days just like this—soaking up my mom’s attention, eating her delicious cooking, and getting completely spoiled by my daddy.
I try my hardest, I really do, to push all of my thoughts and problems to the back of my mind, choosing to focus on the rare opportunity to spend some quality time with my family. But, no matter how hard I try I can’t help the one question that keeps popping up uninvited. The one question that unnerves me, and leaves me without an answer.
Can I love Rico Jones?
Chapter Twenty-One
Riley
April 2014
Weeks. For weeks, Rico has left flowers, called relentlessly, and has even waited for me to leave. I’ve managed to sidestep him, or just downright ignore all of his attempts at talking to me. I’m not ready to answer those questions my visit home made me ask. I’m not ready to admit to myself the amount of feelings I was having for this man, just how deep under my skin he already was.
I wanted more time. I wanted to keep running. Keep ignoring. At least temporarily.
I’ve rescheduled his appointments with another therapist, a male therapist that I trust to do a good job with him— because despite everything that’s happened I still have hope for him to heal. The problem is he refuses to talk to him. Every week I hear his voice vibrate the walls. I hear him scream at Paul to shut up, to mind his own business, and once he’s done with that he demands to be told where I am. Every week I listen to him fall apart, and every week a piece of me breaks. I’m supposed to help him, heal him and all I’m doing is causing more damage.
He’s breaking and it’s all my fault.
When I told Paul I was transferring Rico’s care to him, he—like a good therapist would—asked a lot of questions. I wasn’t sure how to answer them. I wasn’t sure how to keep myself from getting into trouble, and yet still giving Paul enough information to help Rico.
I ended up telling him that some lines had been crossed. I had to. I had to give him the truth. Or at least part of it. I told him I no longer felt comfortable caring for Rico. I wasn’t sure I could stay subjective enough, neutral enough to actually help.
Paul wanted more. He wanted to know just how far over the line I jumped. What exactly Rico did to make me feel uncomfortable. But, I didn’t give him anything else. I simply begged him to keep it quiet. To help Rico heal.
He wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed. I’m just wondering for how much longer, though. Rico is making it extremely hard for Paul to help.
Today has been especially grueling. Rather than walk out after the first five minutes like he has been doing, he spent nearly an entire hour screaming. When the shouting finally stops, I let out a long breath, dropping my head to my desk.
“Finally.”
My moment of reprieve is short-lived when my office door flies open, the handle puncturing a hole in the drywall. A very angry Rico stands there, his hands balled into fists, his chest heaving with each breath. His usually warm brown eyes are cold and unyielding. For minutes that feel like hours, he stands there seething in my direction, unspeaking, unmoving. Each second that ticks by causes me to twitch a little.
Paul is standing directly behind Rico, he places his hand on his shoulder and tries to pull him out of my office. Rico shrugs off his touch and takes a step further into my office. The door slams shut behind him. He doesn’t remove his eyes from mine as he reaches behind him and clicks the lock into place. The sound vibrates through the office sending ominous chills down my spine.
Unsure of what else to do I stand from my seat and brace myself for whatever wrath he has in store for me. The second I’m fully upright he moves, his long legs eating up the distance so quickly I can hardly catch my breath. He doesn’t stop his pursuit until he’s standing behind my desk, behind me.
With his chest pressed against my back, he purrs in my ear, “Where you been, Kit? Why you running from me?”
My head drops forward, my shoulders sag. Does he even realize how loaded that question is? How many things I’m running from? There’s an endless list, and my feelings for Rico are at the very top of it.
“Rico. What happened that night, I appreciate you being there for me, but my past isn’t your burden to bear. I know what you think about me now and that’s fine but I can’t very well help you get over your past—I can’t help you at all—if you think I’m weak.”
A low growl sounds behind me, sending shivers down my spine. It’s a primal noise that speaks to me on the most basic of levels. The sound and the tone of his voice leave little room for argument. “Turn around. Now.”
Turning in my spot I come face-to-face with Rico’s beautiful features. His dark eyes have softened slightly, but his jaw is still clenched tightly. Stepping into my space he backs me up a step until my back hits my desk. Gripping my hips he lifts me up and sits me on top, his hands slide along my body to cup my face between his palms.
For a long moment, we just stare at each other. The only sounds in the room are our heavy breathing—his with anger, mine from his closeness—and the pounding on the door that I can only assume is Paul. But, the longer I stare into Rico’s eyes the quieter the outside noises become. All I can focus on is him. All I hear is him. All I breathe is him.
Rico. That’s it. That’s all there is.
“Kit, baby.” He offers me a sweet endearment and a gentle smile, his anger fading away slowly. “One of these days you’re going to open your eyes, you’re going to open them and see what I see. You’re going to see just how damn beautiful you are, how strong you are. How fucking irresistible you are.”
Strong. Beautiful. Irresistible. Those are words I’ve never tied with myself. Even William rarely called me beautiful. He was too wrapped up in his own world, in his own head to really see me.
“Rico…”
“Shh.” He leans forward to brush his lips across my cheeks, my forehead. With his lips resting against my skin, he makes me a promise. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, Riley. I’ll fight for you, I’ll never stop fighting for you. Because, baby? You’re the prize here.”
Tears roll down my cheeks at his sweet words. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to fight that I’m already his, that my heart already belongs to him. But, the words never leave my mouth. Instead, they get trapped in my throat by the fear my mom warned me about.
Rico’s thumbs wipe away my tears, his voice reverent, “You, baby. I only want you.” With one last kiss to my forehead I watch him walk away, leaving me sitting on top of my desk in a daze.
I hear the door open and then close. I hear terse voices on the other side of it. I hear the door again, and then Paul is standing in front of me, concern etched on his aging face.
“Riley? Are you okay? What happened?”
I hear myself answer him, but I’m still trapped in my head. “I’m fine, Paul. Thanks. Can I have a minute, please?”
I watch him look at me with fatherly concern and in the back of my head I have to wonder if he’s finally going to ask about Rico and I. I’m sure he’s put two and two together at this point. Thankfully, he never asks.
With a stiff nod, he walks away and leaves me alone.
I spend the next several minutes trying to collect myself. Trying to wrap my head around what just happened.
Rico Jones wants me. I want him.
Why the hell couldn’t I tell him that?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Riley
May 2014
Rico has shown up to all of his appointments this week. He’s talked to the other therapist, he smiles at me when he sees me but he hasn’t made another attempt at cornering me. He hasn’t tried to talk to me, or convince me to give him a shot. He’s been polite, mature, and quiet.
It’s freaking me out.
He said he wanted me. Promised he’d fight for me. But he’s done nothing for eight days. Eight excruciating days. Days w
here I’ve waited for him to show up at my office, or my apartment, days where I’ve waited for him to do something. Anything.
I’ve done a lot of thinking in those eight days and I’ve realized—much to my chagrin—that I was waiting for Rico to prove to me that he wanted me. To prove that he really believed I was worth the fight. After William, I lost a lot of confidence in who I am, what I’m worth. I needed someone to help me build that back up.
The determination on Rico’s face last week had me hoping, believing that Rico could be that person. Apparently I was wrong.
In our time apart I’ve done a lot of thinking. I’ve asked myself a lot of questions about that man. I’ve wondered if he’s worth it—worth feeling the pain of a broken heart all over again. Can he really be the man for me? Is he healthy for me? Is he ready for a relationship? Or is he too damaged, too broken?
Can two shattered hearts fuse to make one full, beating, healthy heart? Or are two shattered hearts just that? Broken. Useless.
I try desperately to convince my heart to let go, Rico Jones will never be what I need. Then, I remember the way he smiled at me, that stupid nickname he gave me, his warm eyes that look at me like I’m special and I start hoping all over again.
Throwing my hands up in frustration at my indecisiveness I stand from my desk realizing I desperately need to get out of this office. Well, what I really need is to get out of my own head.
We’re taught in school about different therapeutic techniques, painting being one of them. I use it every once in a while with some of my clients, but it’s a technique I’ve really gravitated toward for myself when life gets too overwhelming. I’ve always appreciated art, and I used to paint when I was younger but when everything went down with William I garnished a new appreciation for it.
When my head is too foggy to think straight I like to go somewhere relaxing, clear my mind, and let the brush take over. Sometimes I paint faces, sometimes I paint landscapes or memories. It doesn’t matter what it ends up being or how good it looks, for me it’s just a release.