by Monica Cole
“I think it’s time I get you home,” he says softly, his voice low and gruff, and so, so sexy. He pushes away from the counter and heads to the front door.
Feeling weak and sexually frustrated, I follow but my knees buckle and I tumble to the floor.
“Shit,” Canyon mutters. He kneels down beside me looking concerned.
“That hurt.” I giggle, securing my arms around his neck as he helps me to my feet. Our bodies crush together, and I tense when his fingers dig into my waist to keep me steady.
“On second thought, maybe you should stay here tonight.”
I subconsciously thread my fingers through his hair. It’s thick and wavy and I can’t be sure, but it seems like his face moves closer. “That sounds like a bad idea,” I say, twisting a lock around my finger.
His eyes are glued to my mouth. “Probably, but you’re drunk and barely able to stand up. I really don’t want to drag your ass to my truck.”
“Fine,” I cave, too drunk to really care what happens at the moment. “I’ll stay here. But I’m not sleeping on the couch.”
Canyon pushes his lips to the side thoughtfully. “Tell you what. You can have my bed….” he pauses dramatically, “if you can beat me there.” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, and I grin.
When he doesn’t move, I unwind my fingers from his hair and slide them down his chest until they’re at the bottom of his shirt. His playful expression falters, hands tightening on my waist. His throat rolls when he swallows, and I know I’ve distracted him enough to make a run for it.
“Have fun sleeping on the couch,” I whisper and then I’m laughing, shoving him back before I bolt down the hall. His footsteps pound behind me, and I let out a shrill scream right before our bodies collide, tangling together as he struggles to keep us upright. He spins me around, backing us up a few steps before my back slams against the wall beside his bedroom door. I’m giggling and gasping for air. He’s smirking and barely winded.
“I don’t know why you’re smiling,” I say between breaths. “I made it here first.”
He moves his hands off my waist and places them on the wall above my head. “Only because you cheated.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, feigning innocence.
He smiles, leaning down until his mouth is by my ear.
“You’ve always been such a terrible liar,” he whispers, lips brushing my skin. Hot. Soft. Teasing. His nose grazes the shell of my ear, and I arch into him, needing more of whatever this is he’s making me feel. His body goes rigid, frozen in place. Mouth still lingering above my skin. He exhales and there’s a tremor in his breath right before the tip of his nose glides down my neck.
Holy…
I drop my head back and the most mortifying sound escapes my mouth. Something between a gasp and a moan, tearing through the silence in the hallway. Canyon pauses and I’m almost certain he’s going to pull away. But then he drops his hands from the wall and hooks a finger in the belt loop of my shorts, the other hand grabbing my waist as he drags me closer. My heart stops and then thrashes as he skims his nose up the side of my neck and back to my ear. His lips press against my skin and without warning his hand is under my shirt, gripping hard as he crushes our bodies together. I gasp and thread my fingers through his hair as he pushes me back against the wall. He takes my arms and we’re both breathing hard as he pins them above my head. His body falls against mine and it’s almost like a missing piece of me just clicked back into place. His mouth moves closer and then he’s touching the corner of my lips. Not a kiss, but it still has the same effect, shooting hot lust to the tips of my toes.
I close my eyes.
I need to pull away.
I need him to pull away.
Please don’t pull away.
As if reading my thoughts, he slowly draws back. Our eyes connect, and I almost drown in the amount of desire and confliction swimming behind them. And I understand perfectly because I can feel it swelling inside me too.
After what feels like an eternity, he releases his hold on me and takes a step back. I drop my arms, letting them hang limp at my side and then look at Canyon. He immediately looks away.
“Goodnight, Elle.” He says, and then he walks away, leaving me slumped against the wall. Leaving me wanting, but my heart still feels the sting of the past. Now that I’m seeing clearly through the hazy intoxication in my head, I realize that what just happened between us was a huge mistake. One I should have stopped sooner, but he makes it so damn hard to think. Just another reason I shouldn’t have come here tonight.
Noise echoes from the living room, and I realize by him leaving, he offered me his room. I’ve never felt more sober in my life, but I know there’s a good amount of alcohol in my body, and Canyon would never let me leave on my own. I reluctantly head into his bedroom, leaving the door open so he doesn’t have to bother knocking if he needs in. I yank the comforter back and climb in, burying my face in his pillow. It smells just like him and the familiarity brings tears to my eyes because it’s just a cruel reminder of what I lost. It hurts. This entire night. Coming back home. Seeing Canyon again. But what hurts worse is that it was never supposed to. He was it for me. Even when I didn’t know it. That’s what makes this hard. He could break my heart a thousand times, and it still wouldn’t matter because some part of me is always going to grasp onto the hope that maybe one day he’ll mend it. Just like he did the first time.
Chapter Twelve
I wake up with a nasty hangover and a full recollection of the night before. I was hoping last night had been nothing more than a dream, but the moment I rolled over and found myself tangled up in Canyon’s designer sheets, I knew the drunken fiasco of last night was in fact reality. To be honest, I’m not sure what happened between us or if it’s anything worth being worried about. We drank. We laughed. And that moment in the hall…We could’ve kissed but we didn’t. So why does it feel like everything went so wrong?
My head is throbbing painfully as I slip out of bed and stumble down the hall in search of the bathroom. I cringe when I catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is matted to my face, my eyes wide and underlined with bruise-like circles. While I use the bathroom, I eye the shower longingly, imagining the miracles hot water could do for my sore body. To hell with it. I strip out of my shorts and t-shirt and flip on the hot water, making sure its scalding before I step in. By the time I’m finished I feel like a new person, which is good because I wasn’t too happy with the person I was before I stepped into the shower. I towel dry my hair and slip back into my clothes then head to the kitchen.
Canyon is standing at the stove, his back turned to me. He’s not wearing a shirt. Just a pair of sweats and his hair looks kind of damp, like he showered not long ago. I sit at one of the bar stools, noticing he has his earphones in, his head bobbing slightly to the music. The last thing I should be doing is staring at him. The way his muscles tighten as he bends down to check something in the oven. I keep watching him, surprised that he hasn’t noticed me, but he seems distracted by his music and whatever he just pulled from the oven. It smells amazing. Like cinnamon and sugar. He shuts the oven door and turns around.
He jumps when he sees me and practically throws the pan on the stove. He rips the earphones out, looking ticked off. “You scared the hell out of me.” He tears an oven mitt off his hand and picks up a spatula.
“Sorry,” I mumble. He serves two cinnamon rolls on a plate and slides it across the counter to me.
After he pours me some coffee, he joins me at the bar, his shirtless body too close for comfort. I lean as far away as possible and sip my coffee, wishing I’d left when I had the chance.
“How did you sleep?” His question comes when we’re basically through with breakfast, and I’m finishing the last of my coffee.
“I slept okay but I’m a little sore.” I say, spinning the mug in my hands. “The shower helped a lot though. I hope you don’t mind.”
He glances over, eyeing m
y wet hair. “We’re friends Elle. You don’t have to ask for permission to use my stuff.”
I want to disagree with his statement but decide to keep my mouth shut. He gets up, gathers our dishes and places them in the sink. The sound of running water momentarily fills the silence, but when he shuts it off and targets me with his brown eyes, my nerves start acting up again.
“About last night…” he starts, but I quickly cut him off.
“I really need to get going.” I slide off the stool, keeping my gaze on the floor. He sighs, but I don’t acknowledge it as I rush to the door. “Thanks for breakfast,” I say, fumbling to unlock the latch. He’s right behind me. I know, because I’m so aware of the energy buzzing around me whenever he’s this close. I swing the door open, daring to look at him once I’ve crossed the threshold, as if somehow this small distance might keep me safe. But his eyes are just as intense. Just as dark. Searing through me with unsaid words I know he wants to say but I don’t want to hear. He braces a hand on the frame, the other on the door, eyes never leaving mine. I swallow hard and take a step back, retrieving my keys from the back pocket of my shorts.
“I guess I’ll see you around.”
He rolls his lips together, reminding me of the way they felt on my skin last night. “See you later.”
I turn around, feeling his gaze on me as I descend the stairs. When I get to the car, I release a pent up breath, dropping my head against the steering wheel. I lose track of how long I sit here, finally moving when my cell phone goes off. I grab it from the console where I unknowingly left it last night. There are five missed calls from mom, not including the incoming one.
“Hello?”
“Elaine? Where are you? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all morning.” She doesn’t sound too worried. If anything, she sounds irritated. I debate telling her the truth. That I drank last night and passed out at Canyon's. Neither one sounds good, but I assume she already knows I slept over since I wasn’t home this morning.
“I’m on my way home,” I tell her, because it’s not a total lie. I start the car and reverse out of the parking lot.
“Well, I need you to hurry. I work tonight, so I’m going to need the car, and I need you to come with me to town to run a few errands before then.”
Errands? Go with her? I’m taken aback by her request. That she actually wants to spend time with me. It takes me a minute to find my voice. “Um, yea okay. Exactly what kind of errands are we running?”
“Last minute ones. You do remember your brother’s birthday is this weekend? I’ve got to pick up some stuff for the party.”
Party? Parker’s birthday. Hell, I’m so out of the loop. I completely forgot it was coming up.
“Okay,” I answer, making a sharp turn that causes the car to make a weird noise that sounds anything but good. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
We say goodbye, and I toss my phone on the seat, praying the car makes it home without breaking down. When I arrive at the house, mom is waiting outside. She’s wearing a white skirt and yellow blouse that compliments the auburn in her hair. Out of her scrubs and with a touch of make-up, she looks like a different person. Happier. Like when I was younger.
“I think something’s wrong with your car,” I say while she puts on her seatbelt and adjusts her overly large sunglasses. She leans over to check the dash and waves her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. The car’s just out of line, and I haven’t had the time to get it fixed.”
As much as I doubt time is the issue, I keep my comment to myself and back out of the driveway. We drive into town without speaking a word. She stares out the window, occasionally checking her phone, and I turn up the radio to drown out the silence. I don’t get the point of asking me to come if she’s not going to acknowledge me, but I’d rather not stress my brain trying to figure it out.
“Where are we going?” I ask a few minutes later. I feel like I’m driving around aimlessly while she sits glued to her phone like an obsessive teenager. She drops it in her purse and points to an empty parking space. “Just park here, and we can walk down to the party store,” she instructs.
I do as she asks, although I do a pretty terrible job parallel parking, then we walk to the store. Canyon’s studio is across the street, and I notice his truck parked out front. I half expect mom to ask why I stayed with him last night or if there’s something going on between us, but she doesn’t bring it up. When we get to the party store, mom immediately starts chatting with the owner who’s sitting behind the cash stand, curling ribbon on balloons. I venture off to look at party supplies and a few minutes later mom joins me, holding dark green plates and gold cups.
“I was thinking we could do a Green Bay Packers themed party,” she says, her tone light, like she’s finally trying to make an effort to enjoy out time together.
I hold out the basket I’m carrying and let her throw in the supplies. “Sounds good.”
She gives me a faint smile before starting up the aisle. After we gather everything we need, we head back to the front to pay. Mom places an order for balloons then we walk down to the bakery to order a cake.
“Do you think he’d like chocolate or vanilla?” she asks me.
“Definitely chocolate,” I answer. Parker is a sugar addict, chocolate being his drug of choice.
After we order the cake, mom suggests we get lunch. I’m still full from Canyon’s cinnamon rolls, but I nod my head anyway, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Other than the car ride, the last hour hasn’t been too bad, and I know Whitney would be proud that I’m making an effort. I’m certain mom is, otherwise she wouldn’t have suggested lunch. We walk to Alden Dairy Bar and I’m careful to use restraint when ordering so I don’t end up with a killer stomach ache like last time. Mom orders a salad and I do the same, along with a chocolate milkshake to balance it out.
“Are you enjoying your summer so far?” Mom stabs at the salad with her fork before taking a bite, her eyes focused out the window.
I shrug, even though she’s not looking. “It’s okay. It beats working at the bar every night like I’ve been doing the last few years.”
She takes a sip of water before continuing to pick at her salad. “That doesn’t interfere with your school work, does it? I know it’s hard going to school and working at the same time.”
“I don’t really have a choice. My financial aid doesn’t cover everything and I’m trying to pay my loans off as I go.” I take a bite before continuing. “It’s really not that bad. I like working. It keeps me out of trouble.”
I say the last part in jest but from the look that flashes across her face, I think she takes me seriously. It makes me wonder if she still believes I’m that same rebellious high school girl I was before the wreck. The one who snuck out and talked back and fought with her every time we were around each other. I wonder if I’m a disappointment. If that’s the reason things are so messed up between us. While we eat, she asks me a few more safe questions. About my classes and what my major is. I tell her I’m a straight A and B student and that I haven’t claimed a major. By the time we’re leaving, we’ve caught up on a few things, but it still feels like nothing’s changed. Nothing important anyways. We pass Canyon’s studio again on the way to our car, only this time, right as he’s walking out. Of course he spots us and my semi-good mood takes a sharp nosedive when mom waves him over. He jogs his perfect body across the street, hair flopping underneath his gray beanie. It kind of pisses me off that he wears it all the time, especially when it’s 100 degrees outside. It pisses me off even more that he can pull it off.
“Hey, Helen. You look gorgeous today.” He embraces mom in a bear hug, swinging her slightly back and forth. He looks at me, and I arch an eyebrow. It’s hard to act unimpressed by his charm when I’m seriously wondering if he could get more perfect.
“We’re having the party on Saturday at 5:00,” my mom is telling him. I’ve totally zoned out, and it takes me a second to realize she’s inviting him. I’m not sure why thi
s surprises me. She likes him more than she likes me.
“Count me in.” He shoves his hands in his back pockets, rocking on his heels. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just yourself.” Mom says, patting his cheek affectionately.
My face must give something away, because Canyon half smiles at her and takes a step back. “I better get back to work,” he says, pinning me with warm, brown eyes that make the dormant butterflies in my stomach start to flutter their wings. “I’ll see you two Saturday.”
He waves goodbye and casually strolls across the street.
Mom offers to drive home, and I gladly let her. This car ride is equally as insufferable so when my phone beeps, alerting me of a new message, I scramble to check it just so I’ll have something to do other than stare awkwardly out the window.
Canyon: It was good to see you spending time with your mom today. She looked happy.
I don’t know why he’s texting me, especially about this. Considering the way we parted this morning, I wasn’t even sure if we we’re still on speaking terms.
Me: Thanks I guess. She talked more to you in those five minutes than she has to me all afternoon though.
Canyon: It’s been two years. She’s just as uncertain as you are. Cut her some slack.
Me: If you’re going to boss me around, you can stop texting me. This is none of your business anyways.
Canyon: I’m not trying to boss you around. I’m just saying it’s going to take time. For both of you. She loves you Elle. You might not see it because you’re so blinded by the past but she’s never stopped caring about you. None of us have.
His words make my eyes burn with hot tears that I quickly blink back. The last thing I need is to start crying around my mom.
Me: For your information, I’m not blinded by the past. I’m wounded by it. And those are two completely different things.