Текст книги "End of the Innocence"
Автор книги: Alessandra Torre
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Chapter 8
I should have prayed instead. The phone didn’t ring three times before my mother answered, her voice breathless, as if she had sprinted across the house to answer the call.
“Mom, you sound busy. I can call back.” I spun, walking across the kitchen and opening the back door, which lead to the porch.
“What? No no no. This is perfect, sweetie. What number are you calling from? And did you get my message? I called you last week ...” Her voice dropped off, and I hoped it was a rhetorical question. I really needed to get in the habit of checking my voicemail more often. Heaven forbid it had been something important.
I closed my eyes tightly, rubbing my temples, and tried to find the right words to get this over with. She spoke on, not waiting for a response. “What’s going on with you? Your father is here, but he’s in the garage, building something that I’m sure he’ll want to bring into the house. I swear, Julia, that man ... he would fill my whole home with other people’s garbage if I didn’t keep him in line.” She huffed into the phone, and I could imagine her in the kitchen, fixing dinner with the phone tucked between her neck and shoulder.
“I have some news, but I don’t want you to freak out when I tell you.” I waited expectantly for reassurance that I knew would never come.
A pause. A stilling of whatever she had been doing that had created noise. “Oh. My. God. What happened? Is it cancer?”
“No! I’m healthy and fine.” I spoke quickly, trying to head off her panic attack before it came.
“Well, dammit, Julia. You almost gave me a heart attack. Please don’t start a conversation like that; it’s terrifying to a woman my age.”
I gripped the chair’s arms, and fought the urge to rock the damn thing so hard the rockers would break off. “I ended things with Luke. A few months ago. I—”
“What? No you haven’t.” The relief in her voice, along with the certainty of her tone, caught me off guard.
“I know it seems sudden, but—”
“A few months ago? Julia, what are you talking about? Luke is here, waiting on your internship to finish up.”
I stopped rocking completely, my mouth involuntarily falling open. “What? What do you mean here?”
“Here, here. He’s in the garage with your father right now. He’s been here a few days; I put him up in your room.”
“WHAT? Are you crazy!”
“Between the two of us, you are the one acting crazy.” Her voice took on an edge of irritation. “He’s almost family. I wasn’t going to turn him away when he showed up on Thursday. I left you a message about it then. Besides, we all assumed you’d come home for a visit as soon as your internship wrapped up. When does your internship finish? We don’t have any details on it, or on your new place.” The sound of the mixer started in the background. She seemed to have completely missed the entire focus of this conversation.
I breathed loudly into the phone. “Mom. Get him out of there. I broke up with him months ago. He is being a crazy stalker; I can’t believe he is there!”
“Julia. Stop getting worked up. This is Luke we are talking about. He’s not a stalker. He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever been with, I can assure you of that.”
“Mom, you don’t know half the people I’ve been with, so you can’t assure me of anything. Where is Dad? Let me talk to him.”
“I am not putting your father on so you can spout this nonsense to him. When your internship is finished, come home. We can discuss this then, and you and Luke can work out whatever tiff you are having so we can continue with wedding plans. Trust me, these things blow over, and he has been such good company to your father this week.”
Wedding plans. God, please tell me she hadn’t still been working on those. I had told her to halt all planning for that ill-fated possibility six months ago, when my gut had first told me the wedding might not ever become a reality.
I spoke rapidly into the phone, but my words went unheard, nothing but silence in my ear. She had hung up. I pulled the phone from my ear and gawked at it. I don’t know why I was surprised. My mother, the queen of independence, wasn’t the type to drag out conversations, especially when she had supper on the stove. I locked the phone screen, trying to work through what had just happened. Luke. At my parents’ house. Anger boiled with quick fury in my blood, and I stood, whirling around and yanking the heavy door open, stomping into the kitchen a bit dramatically, embracing the anger that flowed with greedy speed throughout me.
Brad turned at my entrance, his plate empty, his eyes locking on his phone and following it as I swung my arms emphatically. “You won’t believe this shit!” He stood, snagging his phone from my hand and pocketing it, as he grabbed his plate and took it to the sink.
“They aren’t happy about the engagement?”
“I didn’t even get that far! Luke is staying at my parents’ house!” His blank look returned my infuriated one. “Luke! My ex-fiancé!
He set down his plate, the sound echoing in the empty kitchen. I expected fire, an outrage to match my own, nostrils flaring, hands clenched, a dramatic show of he-man strength. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I know you’ve told me about Luke, but refresh my memory.” He walked back to the table, sliding out a chair and sitting down, his face calm and peaceful across from my furious one.
I blew out a long breath, flexing my hands in front of me. “Dated eighteen months, engaged for twelve of those. I ended it about a month or two before you and I met.”
“Nice guy?”
“Was extremely nice. Quiet, kinda lazy. But when we broke up he went batshit stalker on me—showing up at work and the house, power-calling my cell. That’s why I moved in with the guys and quit my other job. I started my internship at CDB, changed my number, and haven’t seen him since.” I rolled my neck and blew out a breath, willing my heart to slow down. I glanced at him, scowling at his calm expression.
He met my look with an easy confidence, shrugging nonchalantly. “What is it you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. Wave your arms about. Scream. Charge up there and forcibly remove him!”
He chuckled at me across the table. “Julia. This relationship between you and him needs to be ended by you. Anything I say to him won’t resonate. You spent a significant amount of your lives together.” He reached over, dragging my chair across the stone floor until it touched his, his strong hands pulling me onto his lap. I sat, in a child’s position, curled on his lap, his big arms engulfing me, his breath on my hair. “I’ve had you for three weeks, and the thought of losing you is unbearable. He had you so much longer than that. I don’t blame him one bit for going crazy without you. You need to be kind and gentle, but firm, with him.”
I growled against his chest. “I was kind and gentle and firm—when I broke up with him almost three months ago!”
“And drunk.”
I winced. “Yes, and I was drunk. But we’ve talked since, while I’ve been sober, and I’ve told him the same thing.”
He leaned back, tilting up my chin until my eyes met his. “Why don’t we go up to your parents’? I will support you in any way that I can, but the conversation between you two needs to be in private. He’s already lost you; his pride doesn’t need to suffer, as well.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “He’s not a wounded puppy. He’s an invader in my childhood home, sleeping on my sheets, and probably going through my shit. I’ve made my feelings crystal clear by my complete avoidance of him. He’s not hanging out at my parents’ house thinking we are ‘on a break’ – he has run out of places to stalk me and is hoping my dear ol’ mom and dad will give him a clue as to how he can track me down.”
He grinned, a devilish smirk that made me want to yank down his zipper and suck his cock. “You just evaded the Magiano family. Your ex-boyfriend is hardly cause for panic.”
I frowned. “You are way too relaxed about this.”
He leaned forward, kissing me swiftly, his hands moving as my mouth opened to his, strong fingers circling then gripping my waist, twisting my body until I had no choice but to lift one leg over and straddle him. My worries were lost in his kiss—a soothing connection that turned sexual in a moment, his hands moving brusquely over the top of my shirt, yanking it out of my dress pants and sliding his hands underneath the fabric, the warmth of his touch causing my breath to hitch. I ground against him, feeling him respond underneath me, as he squeezed my breasts, his thumb teasing my nipples through the fabric of my bra.
By the time he laid me back, tugged off my dress pants, and wrapped my thighs around his head, it was decided. He was coming home with me, but I was on my own with Luke. Damn my weak resolve.
Chapter 9
We left Friday night, hitting the interstate at six. I called Mom on the way, keeping the conversation brief. I didn’t mention the hulk of a man at my side, or my reason for coming. I didn’t want to give Luke any benefit of preparation. Then I called Olivia remembering two hours out of town that we had made plans for Saturday night—dinner and a movie—a mini-celebration of my new engagement. Olivia wasn’t happy, but understood, her irritation turning to indignation at my mention of Luke’s presence. With her blessing to kick ass in hand, I closed the phone and settled into the passenger seat.
I grew up in a town small enough to be close-knit, but large enough to have a Wal-Mart. Located in an unassuming corner of Georgia, too far from any airport, it typically took me seven hours, but Brad’s car ate up the drive in six. The drive went almost too quickly for my taste, and my mind was still processing possible outcomes by the time we pulled down the quiet suburban street that had sheltered my upbringing.
It was a half hour after midnight when Brad brought the car to a slow stop next to our mailbox and slid it into park. I leaned over, kissing him gently on the lips. “I’ll call you in a bit. You’ll find a hotel?”
He grinned at me. “From the looks of my GPS, this town doesn’t seem big enough to get lost in. I’ll be close by. Call me when you’re ready.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the upcoming battle. Then I opened the door and stepped out.
♥♥♥
It’d been almost a year since I’d been home. Maybe longer. Long enough that I didn’t recognize the new planters on the steps, overflowing with blooms, Mom’s green thumb at work. The planters had, no doubt, been Dad’s handiwork, that item on the ‘to do’ list finally attended to. I also noted new white curtains in the window above the kitchen sink. Wonder when Mom made those? My childhood home was small, a square block of brick, built in the fifties, back when rooflines and architectural features weren’t deemed aesthetically important. But I can’t help but love its imperfections. I can’t help but think, whenever I step down this cracked drive, that I should come home more. I have so many memories inside these walls. So many moments that shaped my growth, in good ways and bad. I walked down the drive, noticing Luke’s truck, and stepped onto the first step of the porch, my eyes adjusting to the dark, seeing the front door stoop and the man who, at almost one in the morning, leaned against it. Luke.
Looks were never Luke’s problem. His looks were what drew me to him, his looks were what kept me around during the slow times, and his looks had almost made me reconsider my decision to leave him. Thick, blond hair that always misbehaved perfectly, a strong jaw, full lips, and pale blue eyes that had always held a hint of anguish. He stood, his hands tucked in the pockets of his faded jeans, a baby blue polo pulled tight over his broad, muscular chest. He said nothing as I wound my way along the entry sidewalk and came to a stop in front of him. Just watched me, his face tight and eyes tortured. He pulled off ‘tortured’ better than anyone else I knew. And, just like that, the familiar weight of guilt settled around my heart and squeezed.
He had, simply put, not been good enough for me. My over-confident ego had decided I needed someone better—someone more successful, responsible, intelligent. It had been the right choice. But that didn’t mean that my heart didn’t break a little when I looked at him. Because he had truly, head over heels, loved me. And probably still did. I never worried about Luke looking at another girl, or had any doubt of his feelings for me. I had been his entire world. He stepped forward slightly, hands coming out of his pockets, and I held up a hand. “Luke. Stop. Please sit down.”
I wasn’t surprised he was awake. Wasn’t surprised that he was on the porch, waiting for my arrival. It was why I had had Brad bring me straight here. I knew Luke would be there, ready, hopeful. But validation of that fact, his weight against the porch, where it had probably been for hours? It made it harder. Added another stone to my mountain of guilt.
He obeyed, sinking into the closest rocking chair, his eyes never leaving mine—light blue prisms of hope. I sank into the rocker next to him and propped a foot up on the railing, closing my eyes and trying to sort through the churning wave of emotions. Of course he obeyed. He had always behaved, always tried to please my ever-increasing demands. I had been the alpha, he the submissive.
“What are you doing here, Luke?” I turned to look at him—a mistake—the raw look in his eyes nearly tearing me into two.
“I couldn’t find you anywhere. I need you, Jules; I’m lost without you.” He reached out, grasping my arm, his strong fingers caressing the skin before he pulled it, leaning into me. I resisted, dragging my arm away and leaned back in the chair.
Need. Yes, he had always needed me. To wake him up in the mornings, so he wouldn’t miss work. To remind him to renew his car insurance, file taxes, pay his parking tickets. He needed me to cover his rent when his cash was low, pick him up from the bar when he had drunk too much, and hold him in my arms when he was feeling insecure. He had needed me way too much. It was one of the things that made the guilt that much heavier. I wondered, still worried, how he functioned without me.
And it was crazy. I had a new fiancé, another life, but still the pull of guilt almost washed me closer to him. Almost made me weak enough to say things other than what I needed to say. It was why I had cut all contact two months prior. The guilt at leaving him ... it was too hard for me to be firm. Firm seemed to equal ‘cruel.’ But that was needed. Especially when the game had gotten to this unthinkable stage.
I sighed, trying to form words that would hit home gently. “Luke. It’s over. I have avoided you for a reason. You being here at my parents’ house– it’s invasive. You have to move on. You have to forget about me.”
“I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I won’t go out anymore or skip work or—”
“Luke.” I stood and faced him, my eyes sharp. Be strong. Be firm. “You don’t need to change for me. You need to find a girl who loves you just as you are. Stop thinking about a way to get me back. I’m not ever coming back. Ever. I need you to realize that.”
“Is this about that guy? The one who dropped you off?” He looked wounded, slumping back in the chair, a bare foot coming up and hitting the porch rail. The glimpse of his foot—it struck some latent chord in me, some reservoir of anger, resentment. He had stayed here a week. Gotten comfortable enough in my childhood home to walk around barefoot. Prey on my uninformed parents.
“No. It’s about you and me. There was no one else who caused our breakup to happen.”
Were my words strong enough? Cruel enough? I wasn’t sure, the look in his eyes unchanged. Needy. Wanting. Desperate. I needed to find the aggressor role that I used to so easily command. The one that I had lost mastery of in my new relationship with Brad. I swallowed. Tried again. “Please go inside and pack. I need you to leave. I will pay for you to stay in a hotel for the night, but in the morning you need to head back home. If you ever cared for me, I need you to leave me alone. Move on with your life. I won’t—I can’t—come back to you. We are done.”
He looked at me, my gaze holding despite the shake in my heart, the contact horrific as I watched a piece of the man I once loved die in his eyes. Then he dipped his head, eyes avoiding mine, saving me from seeing any more pain. He nodded, his head down, eyes trained to the ground, foot falling off the railing and landing with a quiet thud onto the porch. “Okay Jules. I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” I whispered, hoping—as the words fled my mouth—that he hadn’t heard them. Worried that they reopened some window to the room I had just locked close. Then I leaned against the porch and crossed my arms, watching him walk inside. The moment the door closed behind him, tears leaked, running down my cheeks with wild abandon. I hated this shit. Hated dealing with him, hated the resurgence of feelings and emotions for a man no longer in my life. This was bullshit, this ache of hurt, not for me, but for him. And the worst thing was that my own ego was creating this tidal wave of pain. I was not that great. He could—and would—do better. Someone who appreciated him. Someone who loved him in the all-consuming way that I loved Brad. I contained the heaves of my chest, guilt wracking my body in silent sobs. I wiped my face, blinking rapidly and took a few deep breaths, willing the ache in my heart to dissolve.
♦♦♦
Luke, as expected, behaved. It took him almost fifteen minutes to emerge. Fifteen minutes when I went through a roller coaster of emotions and fought going inside to see if he was ransacking my room. He finally emerged, a duffel bag in hand. Evidence of my tears gone, I walked him to the driveway, to his faded red truck, every dent and scrape on it familiar to me. We had fucked in the bed of it, the hard metal floor painful to my knees. We’d spent another night inside of it, on a road trip to his parents’, both of us too broke for a hotel, the cab colder the later the night had gotten. I stared at the vehicle and tried to will the memories from my mind.
Luke heaved his bag, his muscles easily tossing the black duffel into the bed. Then he turned back to me, holding out his hand.
I stared at it blankly, recognizing that he wasn’t reaching for my hand, but waiting for some item. Right. Hotel money. I held back a comment and reached into my pocket, pulling out some cash and putting it in his palm.
“So who was that?” he asked suddenly. “The guy who dropped you off.”
I met his eyes, willing my voice to be casual, steady. “Someone I’m dating.”
He frowned as hurt quickly joined the complicated party of sadness and regret in his eyes. “Wow. That didn’t take you long, Jules.” He shot me a wry, sarcastic smile. “Went after money, huh? Shocker.”
I didn’t respond, watching as he climbed in the truck and slammed the door. He stared into my eyes through the windshield, and we stayed like that for a minute; I was unable to move. Then he shook his head, and his truck roared to life.
Eighteen months. One small diamond.
A life path extinguished.
I stood in the empty driveway for a moment, watching the taillights of his truck as it peeled out and down my parents’ street. It was done. I instinctively knew that he wasn’t coming back, that—while he might not disappear completely—he realized that I would not take him back.
I turned to the house, noting the absence of lights and glanced at my watch. 12:53 a.m. My parents hadn’t waited up, not a huge surprise given the hour. I called Brad.
“Hey babe.” His confident voice sent calming strength through me.
“Hey. Luke just left. How far away are you?”
“A few blocks. You finished quicker than I expected; I haven’t gotten us a room yet.”
“That’s okay. Come pick me up. I’m going to leave my parents a note and make sure the doors are locked, then I’ll be out front.”
“I’ll be there.”
There was no doubt Mom would be hurt when she found out I was staying at a hotel, but I’d have to face that battle in the morning. I jotted down a quick note, stated I’d be by around nine, then checked the locks, and headed outside to Brad’s car.
