by LJ Evans
♫ ♫ ♫
The latest letter slips from her fingers and PJ looks down at her bare wrist. She hasn’t worn the bracelet since she got to New York. She told herself it was because it seemed too showy and pretentious for a struggling graduate student, but she knows it’s because it tortured her with thoughts of Seth.
She heads to the miniscule room that they’ve shoved three twin beds into. There’s hardly room to stand between each one. Mina and Haley were gracious to take her in after they’d already found this place. She searches through the boxes under her bed and comes up with the beautiful metal box.
She takes the bracelet out of it and slips it on. It’s heavy, but not uncomfortable. It’s like she can almost feel Seth’s fingers, rough and calloused, encircling her bones, calling her back to him. And she wonders if she’s really doing the right thing. If being away from the man she loves has really helped her find herself any more than she would have if she’d been standing by his side.
Letter Seven
ALL ABOUT LOVIN’ YOU
“Mistakes you know I’ve made a few…
Every time I look at you, baby,
I see something new that…
Makes me want you more.”
-Bon Jovi, Sambora, Child, & Carlsson
Dear Bella,
When I look back now, at the moments where I was happiest, they all seem to be tortured with days where I brought you grief. It was like my euphoria somehow tipped the scales so that the only way to balance it was with extremes. The day you finally moved in, I was the happiest man on Earth. It was the best Christmas present ever, even though it wasn’t Christmas. It was the best birthday present, even though it wasn’t my birthday. But then—that night—I hurt you. Hurt us.
I pushed the button that started our downfall.
But that day, I didn’t know any of that. I was reveling in the idea that you’d be in my home for good. I was excited— yes, excited—to show you what I’d done for you. You hadn’t realized it, because there was no reason for you to be in the extra rooms at my place before you graduated, but I had cleared out one of the bedrooms and made it into your office. A place where you could work on your blog and watch the ocean, which I had come to realize tugged at your soul as much as it did mine.
I made the desk myself out of driftwood and metal, and the shelves were old and whitewashed. I scattered the room with purples and sea greens because those were colors you favored. I wanted you to have a place where you could sit and think while you figured out the rest of your life. But I also wanted it to be a place you wouldn’t want to leave. I guess I was trying to bribe you to stay even before I knew you were going.
Justice and Locke had insisted on helping us move your few belongings from the apartment to our home. I couldn’t really object as Justice had his truck, and I just had the useless motorcycle or the two-seater Porsche.
We met at your apartment. Claire and the twins were already there. Claire had moved her belongings to her aunt’s house who lived closer to the school than her own family up in Thousand Oaks. The twins had sold most of their things and sent a few on to New York. The apartment that had never seemed like your home was pretty empty, but the four of you still planned on spending one last night in it anyway. The promised all-nighter that I fucking hated thinking about.
I wanted our first night of your stuff in our place to be with me wrapped around you and you wrapped around me. But I was trying not to make a big deal out of it. I had been patient for over a month. If I really was as possessive as you think, I wouldn’t have let you stay there…shit, I guess I didn’t.
You didn’t have many boxes, and between your brother, Locke, and me, we had you packed up in well under an hour and then headed back to our house. The house I was hoping you would truly start to call your home.
While Locke had been to my place many times, Justice had not. When he got out of his truck, he whistled. “Wow, S&M, movin’ up in life,” he teased.
You punched his shoulder and smiled, but I could tell his words had gotten to you, especially after our argument over money. After you said you needed to pay your way in order to respect yourself. I’d taken the money because I couldn’t stand the thought of you hating yourself. But I hadn’t touched the cash you’d left. Would never touch it because I would continue to take care of you as long as I was capable of doing so.
It was me taking care of the person I loved. Because I’d realized that I loved you. And I wanted to give you all the things I thought you should give someone you loved. All the things my shit-for-brains father had never given my mom. All the things you deserved.
I hadn’t told you that I loved you yet. Not only because it wasn’t something I was good at: words. But it was also because I was afraid that it would push you away. After all, you weren’t any better at accepting love than you were at accepting help.
We moved your boxes into the house, most of it going into the master bedroom, but then I pulled you down the hall and opened the office that I’d created for you. You stopped at the door and just stared.
“Wh-what is this?” you asked, breathless.
“Your office,” I said nonchalantly, but I was aching to see your smile. Instead, you turned to me with eyes flashing with a mixture of emotions. “You did this…for me?”
There was no need for a response.
“Seth, you have to stop doing stuff for me.”
I grabbed your hand and pulled you up against my chest, “I’ll never be able to stop doing things for you.”
You kissed me with tears in your eyes as Locke and Justice came down the hall with boxes of your books. “Can you at least wait until we’ve left before you start screwing like bunnies?” Justice said, pushing past us into the office, but he had a smile on his face.
Locke looked around and saw the desk. “Do you know how much I could get for that at the gallery?”
“It’s not for sale,” I grumbled at him.
Justice looked around and seemed at least satisfied that you’d be somewhere physically safe. Maybe I’d made another check in the right box toward his acceptance of me. He was still withholding complete acceptance. I didn’t blame him. I was an asshole. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to prove to him, or myself, that I deserved you.
“Did you make ajiaco again?” you asked with a smile as the smell hit you. I just nodded. “Justice, you have to taste this.”
You dragged him down the hall to the kitchen. Your absence left a silence in the air between Locke and me. He dragged a hand through his graying hair.
“You know…I think I was wrong,” Locke said begrudgingly, like it was costing him more to say it than I’d ever know.
I crossed my arms across my chest and just waited.
“I think I need to be more worried about you than her.” As he said it, I had to look away so he wouldn’t see the goddamn agony inside me. The wuss of a teenager in my head who was still beating me up with the constant fear that you wouldn’t stay.
“Seth? You coming?” Your voice rung out from the kitchen. I turned away from Locke and went to you.
You were filling bowls and passing out the stew. Justice was shoveling it in with mumbled sounds of appreciation. But I hadn’t made it for him. I’d made it for you, so I just glowered as you offered me my own bowl.
“Locke?” You offered him a bowl as he came up behind me. He was still watching me. I didn’t move.
“Nah, I have a date tonight,” he finally replied.
You almost dropped the bowl, “No you don’t!”
Locke seemed insulted by your disbelief. “Way to go, S&M!” Justice laughed over his stew.
I sat at the bar and took the bowl you offered me, but dragged you down onto my lap. You smiled at me and didn’t protest. You seemed happy. It made me wish that everyone would leave so that I could make you happy for other reasons.
“Who is she?” you asked him.
“He’s someone I met through Dyl
an Waters.” Locke let it hang out there for a long moment while we all stared at him. Coming out in your thirties seemed so unnecessary these days. But somehow, it didn’t surprise me as much as it seemed to rattle you and Justice.
“You big shithead,” Justice said, putting down his bowl with a bang.
Locke put his hands in his trouser pockets and kind of rocked back and forth on his heels. Uncomfortable. Awkward. Unsure in a way that I’d never seen him before. I wondered at the timing. Like he was using us and our moving in together as a shield for dropping this bomb on his family.
“What do you want me to say?” Locke looked away.
“Man. We went through a lot together in college. A lot of women…” Justice trailed off, still in shock.
Locke stopped and met his gaze. “It’s taken me a while to realize it myself. To realize why I wasn’t always happy in my relationships. And I like women…” he shrugged. “I just like guys too.”
You were off of me and hugging him in a blink. “I love you, Locke. I’m glad that you’ve found what will make you happy.”
You’d said you loved him, and I tried not to let it twist me up with jealousy because you hadn’t said those words to me. We hadn’t said them to each other. But you also sounded wistful, and that hit me in the stomach for a different reason. Locke seemed uncomfortable. Like he might turn as red as you normally do.
Then Justice was up and at his side too. “You’re a fool. Do you know how many hot guys I could have set you up with by now? I own a gym!”
Justice was trying to lighten the mood, and it worked some. He hugged Locke and then punched him on the shoulder. “Still a shithead.”
I was amazed again at the love that your little makeshift family had found and made for itself. The acceptance that was there without even blinking an eye. The complete and utter support you all seemed to give each other. I felt like an outsider in my own house. It pissed me off.
“Does this mean we’ll finally get better clientele at the gallery now?” I grunted.
You glared at me. I just turned back to my food. You and Justice started asking questions about the guy Locke was seeing. I ignored it all.
Finally, Justice was done with his bowl and the third degree and rose. “I gotta get back to Liv and Cole. She’ll probably be half asleep with him in her arms while she tries to wash the bottles.”
All of you walked toward our front door. I trailed behind. “Thanks for helping us,” you said to both the men. You looked back at me expectantly, but I didn’t add my thanks.
“Thanks for the stew. That was some really good stuff,” Justice said.
I nodded, but only because you wanted me to. You were taming me even then. Breaking me in like a stray dog that you’d let into your house. Except that it was my house. Our house.
They headed out the door, with you hugging them for what felt like the goddamn hundredth time. When the door closed behind them at last, I finally got to pull you into my arms and kiss you the way I’d been dying to kiss you.
You laughed, pulling away. “Stop. I have to head back to the apartment so we can finish cleaning before we go out.”
“I’ll hire a maid,” I grumbled.
“No. You won’t. I can clean up my own messes.”
“Then clean this one up,” I said, drawing your hand down to my jeans where I felt like I would explode. You smiled that sassy, seductive smile that you’d come to wear so often when we were alone together.
You pulled me down the hall to our bedroom, and we lost ourselves for several hours in the feel of our skin on each other’s skin, and the taste of our lives being tangled together even closer.
♫ ♫ ♫
I woke to the sounds of boxes being opened. You were sitting on the floor, sifting through clothes. “Come back to bed,” I mumbled.
“You know I can’t. I need to go. The girls are waiting for me. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“This is bullshit,” I barked, throwing myself out of our bed and pulling on my jeans.
“It’s one night.” You smiled, resisting my bad mood. “Give it a week, you’re going to be wishing for a night without me.”
I stomped my way over to you and picked you up. Your legs wrapped around my middle as they always did now. “You still don’t get it. This is the only place I want you to be. Ever.”
You kissed me fiercely, as if you felt the same, but then pushed against me to let you down. I did, but with reluctance.
You packed a bag, kissed me long and hard once more, and then took off in your worthless car. I watched you from the doorway like that stray dog again, but one who’d been left at home while his new master went to play.
You were happy. I knew you were happy. I felt it inside of me. But when you’re happy, there is a glow about you that makes you this ethereal beauty that guys don’t stand a chance against—I didn’t stand a chance against. All I could think of was you, out on the town with the twins and Claire, drawing the eyes of some schmuck who wouldn’t take no for an answer. God. If I’d known then what would happen later, it probably would have put me over the edge.
As it was, the images in my mind were too much. I couldn’t stop seeing you and your drunk roommates at the bar surrounded by all those wannabe models like I’d found you before. It was tearing me up inside.
I had to actively resist the desire to follow you as much as I had to resist the magnetic pull that alcohol was whispering to me. So instead of following you, I drove north up Highway 1. Not far, just far enough. Closer to Hollywood and Santa Monica than home. I’d found this meeting when I’d first started at Otis. When I didn’t want to attend an AA meeting too close to school. I didn’t want to risk seeing anyone I knew from class, professor or student. AA meetings are anonymous. Confidentiality crucial, but I still hadn’t wanted to chance it.
I hadn’t been to a meeting in a couple months. I hadn’t needed it. Then I’d found you and really thought I didn’t need it because I had you. Us. A new life. But Mac used to tell me that it’s when you think you don’t need it that you actually need it the most. I guess I’d found that out the hard way. Like all the things in my life have ever been found.
The meeting calmed me. Got me focused back on what was important. The now. Us. Our new life together that you would be coming home to after this one last night with the girls.
When I got home, I went into the studio and pounded on the legs of your silk-covered chair that still didn’t seem right to me. Like it was still missing something that I hadn’t discovered yet. I guess I hadn’t because you were still keeping secrets from me.
At about midnight, my phone rang. It was from your number, and all the panic and insane thoughts rushed back into my brain.
“Bella?”
Quiet. “Seth? Who the hell is Bella?” I could hear the drunken slur of Claire’s voice even over the phone.
“Where’s PJ?” I demanded.
“Who’s Bella, jerk?”
I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her even though I appreciated her protectiveness. “PJ is Bella,” I growled at her. “Put her on the damn phone.”
“She’s here. But I think we need a ride.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” I demanded and was out the door before I’d even hung up the phone.
I felt like a crazy man as I drove to the bar. Why hadn’t you called me? Were you sick? Were you throwing up in some disgusting bathroom? I wanted to punch a wall. I wanted to punch Claire for letting you get that way.
When I walked in and saw that stupid kid from the gym, I almost busted a table. I knew instantly why Claire had called. He had you cornered behind the pool table. You looked uncomfortable. I couldn’t help the visceral reaction I had as I stormed across the room, shoving people and chairs out of my way.
As I approached, I saw you duck under his arm, him grab at you, and you twist his fingers back, but he still didn’t let go even when it was obvious you’d hurt him. You were damn stron
g.
He didn’t have a choice but to let you go when I reached him. I slammed my fist into his jawbone before either of you truly registered I was there. I hit him a second time, and he hit the floor. A puddle of blood pouring from his nose. I went to pick him up and hit him again, but your hands and Claire’s tugged at my arms. “Seth. Stop.”
Michael whined, something about his goddamn nose. I pulled away from you and Claire and picked him up by his shirt collar. “Stay the hell away from my girlfriend.”
“Fuck you!” Michael bellowed, pushing against me, ready to go.
I flung him backward. His hip hit the pool table with a loud crack. He yelled out in pain, but I didn’t care. I was going back in, but by then the bouncers had figured out what was going on, and they had my arms. And you and Claire had my arms, and between the four of you, you kept me from continuing my deadly pursuit of the shithead.
Too bad I hadn’t been able to finish him.
But then I’d be writing you letters from jail instead of the table in our kitchen, so I guess you would say it was better this way. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for not putting an end to it right there.
“You actually going to leave with this He-Man?” Michael said in shock as you followed me and the bouncers to the door.
You turned back to him and shoved your hand into his chest. I fought to get rid of the muscled guys holding me so I could reach you and the piece of garbage. Worse than garbage because I can make garbage beautiful and there will never be anything beautiful about Michael.
“You showed up here unwanted, and I put up with it. But then, when I told you that I loved him, you wouldn’t let it go. I think that makes you way more of an asshole than Seth will ever be. Leave. Us. Alone,” you said and stomped away from him.
You’d said you loved me. It sucker punched me in the gut…the gut that had been hit several times tonight, and I wanted to kiss you just because you’d said it. But when you got to me, I could see you were pissed at me as well. I shrugged off the bouncers, grabbed your hand, and hauled us out of that place with Claire on our tails.