Текст книги "Falling "

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

“Is this that someone you denied back at Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah.”

“So what’s bothering you about it?” she questions.

“I have a seedy past, and I’ve never done this. I’ve never wanted to. But she’s nothing like anyone I have ever known, and she makes me nervous.”

“You think she’ll judge you for the choices you’ve made?”

“She’s nothing like me. She’s so green, and I’ve been fucking chick after chick since I was fifteen.” Just saying the words is almost mortifying. Sickening. And what was once something I couldn’t care less about is now something that I’m embarrassed about. Ashamed.

“I don’t have a picture perfect record either. You know that. But Trevor loves me regardless of who I was before him,” she tells me. “That’s the thing about love . . . it’s a pretty powerful force that can show a side of you that you never knew existed. Show you that you’re capable of becoming someone you never thought you could be, and you do it for the other person because you love them, because you want to put them before yourself.”

I don’t say anything. I just let her words soak in. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. All I know is, I want to—for her.

“Just a piece of advice,” she adds. “Don’t ever lie to her about who you are. If she ever asks, be honest.”

“Yeah.” When she says this, I begin to have doubts that it will ever get to that point. I don’t even know where this girl’s head is at. Just because I want her doesn’t mean anything. What if I’m just wasting my time? Shit. I see how she is with Jase. What if that’s just how she is with her friends? I even see it when she’s with Mark. All she has given me is exactly what I see her giving to the two of them.

Suddenly, I’m questioning everything.

I’ve been trying to shake my self-doubts about Candace for the past few days. We continue to chat on the phone and text back and forth, but I can’t help wondering if any of this is different with me than it is with Jase and Mark.

Needing a distraction, I decide to get my Christmas shopping done for the kids today. I thought hitting the gym would help, but here I am, still doubting. My cell starts ringing as I’m grabbing my coat to head out.

It’s her.

“Hey.”

“Hi. You busy?” she asks, and something about the sound of her voice erases my questioning thoughts.

“No,” I lie as I toss my leather coat onto the couch. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Jase and Mark left early this morning for Ohio, and I’ve just been sitting around the house. I didn’t know if you wanted to hang out.”

“Oh, I see. Second best since the boys aren’t there to keep you entertained,” I tease with a laugh.

“No,” she drags out in feigned annoyance at my joke. “And you’re not second best,” she adds, and I’m happy she does because I like hearing it.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Anything. I just want to get out of my house,” she says in a way that makes me think of her non-existent roommate. I know she lives with a girl, but in the past couple of months I’ve been hanging out with Candace, I’ve never seen or heard her talk about her roommate, but if she needs to get away, I’ll take her away.

“You up for shopping?”

“Shopping?” she questions.

“Yeah, I need to do some Christmas shopping for my nieces and nephews. You in?”

“Um, yeah. That sounds good.”

“I’ll come pick you up,” I tell her before we hang up, and just like that, my day got better.

When I pull into her drive, I see her walking down the steps of her front porch. She looks perfect with her leopard scarf wrapped around her neck and her hair down. When she gets into my car, she looks at me staring at her and asks, “What?”

Being honest, I tell her, “I like your hair down.” She usually has it in a piled mess on top of her head, which always looks sexy on her, but I have to admit that it’s cutest when she’s in school, and it’s almost always in a tight bun since she dances every day. But I rarely ever see her with her hair down like it is now.

She looks uncomfortable with the compliment and doesn’t respond to it, instead asking, “Can we stop by Peet’s and grab something to drink?”

Laughing at her deflection, I say, “Sure,” before backing out and heading over to Fremont. As I’m driving, I notice that she seems a little absent as she stares out the window.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, and when she faces me, she questions, “Why?”

“You seem distracted.”

“Sorry,” she says and I can tell she’s abashed. “Thanks for picking me up.”

Not sure what’s causing her mood, I intend to dispel it. Smiling over at her, I say, “Anytime.”

We luck out, finding a parking spot right in front of Peet’s, and the place is crowded when we walk in. Candace stands close to me while we wait in line. She’s fidgety, absentmindedly wringing her hands together.

A burst of cold air floods in, and when the chime from the door goes off, Candace startles and turns to see an older couple walking in. Her face is nearly stone when I look down at her.

“Hey,” I say as gently as I can, and when she turns around, I ask, “You sure you’re okay?”

Fixing a smile on her face, she looks up at me and assures, “Yeah. Maybe I should just get a decaf tea or something,” with humor I’m not buying, but I’m not questioning it either. I reach down and when I take her hand in mine, she grips me tightly as if she needs the comfort of my touch.

After we order our drinks, we walk out into the brisk air, and she finally seems to breathe easy. Crowds. I forgot for a moment that she doesn’t like them, and Peet’s was packed with people needing a hot drink to warm up.

Opening the car door for her, I help her up and then walk around to get in. We drive across town to a massive toy store that’s my go-to spot for the kids. We listen to an old David O’Dowda album as we fight the holiday traffic, and when we pull up, we grab our drinks and head inside.

“So, what are you looking for?” she asks as she gets a cart and starts following me down one of the aisles.

“Don’t know. These kids aren’t too hard to please though,” I tell her as I stop and flip through a few board puzzles.

“How old are they again?”

“Young. All under five,” I say as I start wandering around. “Honestly, they’d be happy with a box of tissues and a stick.”

She laughs at my words, and I turn back to her to get a glimpse. “That’s nice,” she says, teasingly.

“It’s true.”

When we turn down the next aisle, filled with pink . . . everything, Candace stops to admire a collection of dolls. I step up behind her and quip, “You want one?”

She looks at me over her shoulder, and mocks, “No, I don’t want one,” before looking back at them. “They’re pretty.”

“Grab a couple,” I tell her and watch as she picks out two of the dolls and puts them in the cart.

We take our time, slowly strolling, grabbing toys here and there as she continues to ask about my family.

“So, seven nieces and nephews . . .”

“Yep.”

“All cousins’ kids?” she asks.

“I’m an only child, remember?”

Nodding her head, she says, “That’s right. I forgot. You all sound close.”

“I’m closest to my cousin, Tori. We spent a lot of time together while we were in high school. We lived in different towns, but would always get together on the weekends. Partying and surfing.”

“You surf?” she asks as she looks over at me.

“I grew up on the beach.”

“Jase surfs,” she tells me.

“Yeah, he’s mentioned that to me. Grew up in San Diego, right?”

“Uh huh. He goes to Westport every now and then.”

“I’ve been there a few times, but I go back to Cannon Beach frequently, so I normally get my fill when I’m there,” I tell her and catch her staring down the next aisle. “What are you looking at?”

“I always wanted one of those,” she whines with excitement as she starts walking towards a huge wire bin filled with inflated Hop N Bounce balls. I laugh while I watch her grab one out of the bin and turn to me. “My friend had one of these when we were little, but she would never let me play with it.”

“Why didn’t you ask your parents for one?”

“I did, but . . .” she trails off, and when she does, I encourage, “Take it for a spin.”

She completely surprises me when she doesn’t even hesitate. Holding the ball by the handle, she walks over to me and hands me her drink. “Here. Hold this.”

Taking her tea, I question, “You serious? That’s a toy for an eight-year-old,” I poke.

She sets the large ball on the ground and sits on top of it, saying with a huge smile, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about the same size as an eight-year-old,” before spinning around and bouncing away from me down the aisle.

I watch her, laughing as she bobs up and down, enjoying seeing her let go for a moment. She isn’t worried about how she looks; she never has been. Not embarrassed in the slightest and I revel in this moment.

When she turns to bounce back towards me, I start cracking up at the laughter coming out of her. I’ve never seen her like this—so carefree. It’s beautiful, and I just want to grab her off that stupid ball and kiss her. Just take her and make her mine, so I can touch her whenever I want—to have her.

She finally stops bouncing and stands up, still holding the ball in her hands. She continues to giggle while telling me, “Totally worth the wait.”

“Must have been a good ride,” I say. “I think the whole store heard you laughing.”

She tosses the ball into the cart, and as I cock my head in question, she clarifies, “You have to buy that for the kids.”

She takes her tea out of my hand, and I’m lost in her. Everything about her. I follow her lead as we continue to make our way through the rest of the store, thankful that she doesn’t skip a single aisle because I need all the time I can get with her.

“Michael here?” I ask Mel when I walk into the bar.

“Yeah,” she hollers over to me. “Upstairs.”

The place is busy tonight as I head up to Michael’s office. It’s been a good day, although dropping Candace off at her house to come up here was the last thing I wanted to do, but I need to sit down with Michael. He’s been dropping the ball on a few things, and shit needs to get back on track.

His door is open, so I go ahead and walk in.

“Ryan, hey, man,” he says from behind his desk, which is a mess of papers.

I cut to the chase and say, “Talk to me.”

While he sorts and stacks a few files, he asks, “About what?”

“Not showing up. Supply orders going in late. Schedules not getting out on time.”

He drops the files onto his desk and leans back in his chair. “Fuck, man,” he sighs.

“You know I can’t have this, so either we figure it out or I’m gonna have to let you go,” I tell him honestly. No need to bullshit when it comes to my business.

“No, I’m getting everything in order. Things have been a little crazy at home, and I let it filter into work,” he explains.

“Kids okay?”

“It’s not the kids,” he says and takes a pause before revealing, “I found out that Amber’s been fucking around on me.”

Seems Mel’s eavesdropping skills don’t suck.

“Shit, man.”

“Yeah. It’s fucked up,” he tells me. “Don’t worry about things up here though. I’ve got it under control.”

Not too comfortable with chatting about this guy’s issues, I leave it as is and let him get back to work, trusting that he’s gonna get his crap together.

I make my way back down to check in with Mel, and as I pass along the edge of the bar, someone grabs on to my arm. Turning around, I’m face to face with my past.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, and when her hand lingers on me, I take a step back and out of her grip.

“Having a drink. Waiting for a friend, but he’s running late.”

“You should pick a different bar next time,” I tell her, turning to leave and spot Gavin walking in.

“M.I.A.,” he calls out to me while shaking his head.

I’ve found myself drifting from Gavin as well as most of my bad habits, so seeing him is a little awkward, but not as awkward as him walking past me and straight to Gina, kissing her.

Irritation causes my shoulders to tighten, and when Mel appears from behind the bar, I snap, “Back room.”

She follows behind me as I head into the back stockroom, closing the door behind her.

“What the fuck did I just see?”

“He brought her in here the other day,” she tells me. “Said he’s been hooking up with her for a couple months now.”

The door opens, and Gavin walks in, thankfully alone.

“You mad?”

“Mad? No. Disturbed? Kinda,” I respond. “Dude, weren’t you screwing her roommate?”

He gives me an almost proud smirk and boasts, “Yeah, man.”

“Have fun with that one,” I tell him.

“So we’re cool?”

“I don’t care who you’re hooking up with, but that girl seems like trouble,” I tell him.

“Maybe so, but she’s good in bed, you know?” He laughs and then adds, “Yeah, you know.”

Regretfully, I do know. I wanna forget, but that isn’t gonna happen. It’s my past, and unfortunately, you can’t escape your past. I’ve dealt with that little piece of knowledge my whole life. But I do what I can to shut it out and tell him, “Don’t bring her back up here again.”

When he turns to walk out, not responding to me, I face Mel and say, “I’m serious. You see her in here, I want her out.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she says. “You okay?”

Switching the subject, not wanting to discuss it any further, I tell her, “Let me know if anything starts to fall through the cracks up here.”

“Did you talk to Michael?”

Being irritated as shit, I don’t want to go into this with her, so I leave it with, “Just let me know,” before walking out and calling it a night.

Can you help me run an errand?

Yeah. What do you need?

I want to go pick up some firewood but I want enough to last and it won’t fit in my trunk. Can you take me since you have the space in your jeep?

At gym now. Will you be ready in a couple of hours?

Yes. THANKS!!!

After I finish my workout with Max, I head home to grab a quick shower and a bite to eat before I leave to pick up Candace.

The night is colder than usual as I walk out to my jeep. I make the short drive through the neighborhood, and when I get to Candace’s house, I run up to her door to get her. She’s shrugging on her grey, wool coat when she answers.

“Hey,” she says with a smile when she sees me.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” I watch her slip on her black gloves as we walk out.

As I pull away from her house, she tells me, “There’s a tree lot on Holman, up from eighty-fifth street.”

“How much are we getting?”

“I dunno. Probably just a fourth of a cord,” she answers as she adjusts the vent on the dash.

“You cold?”

“Yeah,” she says, and when I laugh, she turns and asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. You just have no meat on you to keep you warm,” I say teasingly. She’s lean with defined muscles, but nothing that takes away from her femininity.

“Yeah, well, I can’t do much about that,” she shoots back at me.

When we get to the tree lot, Candace places her order with one of the attendants. After paying for the firewood, we find ourselves strolling the lot, looking at the Christmas trees as the guys load up the wood.

She stops in front of one of the trees and looks up at it, shivering. Reaching down, I take her hands and rub mine over hers, trying to warm her up. She seems a little apprehensive as she looks up at me, but she doesn’t back away. When she starts to drop her arms, I reach down and hold her hand. It isn’t the first time I’ve made a subtle move like this, and I hate the uncertainty of it all. Not knowing how she’s feeling about this—about us.

“I miss Jase,” she quietly says out of nowhere as she looks at the tree. She turns to me, and with an almost apologetic look, she explains with a shrug of her shoulders, “I’m not used to him being gone.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“This morning,” she says and then turns back to the tree. “We should buy this.”

I look down at her, and even though she didn’t mean it literally, I like that she said ‘we.’

As she helps me unload the firewood and stack it in her garage, I ask, “What are you going to do for the next few weeks?”

“I don’t know. This is the first year that Jase isn’t here with me. We normally spend most of the break together when I’m not at my parents’.”

“How’s that going?” I ask, knowing that the last time she saw them it ended badly.

“It’s not, really,” she tells me. “I spoke with my father for the first time since Thanksgiving a few days ago, and he wants me to come over for dinner Christmas Eve.”

“You haven’t spoken with them for all this time?”

“No,” she says as we walk back out to grab some more logs.

“So, you’re going over to see them then?” I ask, already feeling like I want to keep her from going. I know I have no right to say anything, but I can’t stand the thought of her being here alone if she winds up in another fight with them.

“Well, yeah, I don’t really want to, but it’s Christmas and all. I’m just a little scared about how it will all go. The last time I saw them, we said some pretty nasty things to each other, and I have never gone this long without talking to them.”

“What are they so upset about?” I ask, confused by what this girl could possibly be doing that they don’t approve of.

“Everything,” she says as we walk into her house and into the kitchen. She grabs a bottle of wine that has already been opened and starts pouring a glass, adding, “Turns out I’ve been nothing but an embarrassing disappointment to them all along.”

Taking a beer out of the fridge, I can’t help the sigh of irritation that comes out of me. I follow her into the living room, and when we sit down on the couch, I wrap my arm around her, just wanting her to be close to me any way I can get it.

“I’m sorry, babe,” I say softly and immediately catch the slip and hope she isn’t freaked out by what I just said. But when she continues talking, I wonder if she even noticed that I called her ‘babe’ or if she did notice and is okay with it. Shit, I really hate this grey area.

“Honestly, it’s nothing that I didn’t already know deep down, but it was the first time that it actually hit me that these were their true feelings toward me.”

I feel it. It’s strong and causes a reaction I can’t control, and I act on it, demanding, “I don’t want you going over there.” She looks up at me, and there isn’t a hint on my face that I’m anything less than serious about what I just said.

“Ryan, I have to,” she defends. “They’re my parents.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want you going over there for them to treat you like shit.” My words are hard, but they come out before I can even think to soften them up for her.

She sighs and leans back into me, resting her head on my chest, and I enjoy the contact.

“I have to go,” she whispers. “It’s Christmas, and I really should be there. I’m only going for dinner. That’s all.”

“Then I’m going with you.”

“What?” she says as she pulls away and sits up.

“I don’t want you going alone, Candace,” I tell her. “I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, but I’m not letting up on this.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea that you’re going. So we can argue about this, or you can just say okay.”

Her eyes are locked on mine, stunned by my tone, but the feeling that I have to shield her from getting hurt again is powerful, almost uncontrollable. It takes her a moment, and I watch her brow twitch right before she turns and slowly leans back.

“Okay,” she resolves with uncertainty.

Certain or not, I don’t care. She said ‘okay,’ and I take it a step further, pushing her when I add, “And I don’t want you spending Christmas alone either, so why don’t you come home with me. I could use the distraction at the madhouse.”

“What?! No. Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” she says in a high-pitched voice.

“I’m sure you will be fine, but I don’t like the thought of you sitting here alone, so you’re coming with me.” I need her to come with me. I just need her . . . with me.

“Ryan, it feels weird,” she argues.

“Why?”

“Because. It just does. I know you have a big family, and I just don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s not an intrusion,” I assure her as I move to face her. “My family isn’t like that.”

She drops her head and takes her time contemplating. Questioning. Shit, did I go too far? Did I scare her? As soon as I start to regret my words, she speaks.

“Okay, but no gifts. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. It just always has. Please,” she says, almost begging, and I don’t push it any further.

Excitement rushes through me, a feeling that’s all too new for me. But I can’t help it, knowing that I get to have her with me for a solid chunk of time.

“Okay. No gifts,” I say with a smile.

We both sit back, and when she gets comfortable in my arms, she asks, “So when did you start making all the rules?”

“When you started making me worry about you,” I respond, completely transparent.

Sitting there, I continue to hold her. We don’t talk at all. It’s quiet and peaceful, and having her warm body tucked in close with mine gets my heart racing. All I can think about is how I want to kiss her, touch her. Pick her up and make good use of her bed. But I know once that happens, I’ll never want to leave that bed. The thoughts alone turn me on, and I need to get control of myself.

“Hey,” I whisper, looking down at her. When she tilts her head and peers up at me, she’s close. So close, that if I lean down slightly, I could kiss her. Maybe I should. But I know myself. I won’t want to stop. I don’t think I could with her, so instead, I say, “I should get going.”

She nods her head, and feeling the movement against my jaw makes leaving so difficult, but that’s what I do. I stand, and she walks me to the door.

“Thanks for helping me out tonight.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” I tell her and then walk out to my car after she gives me another nod.

The drive home is almost painful because all I want to do is turn around and take her, claim her as mine, but nothing about this girl is telling me that I should handle her in that way. I’m holding back, and I’ve never had to do that before. The anticipation drives me crazy, wondering when I’ll get to see her again, hear her voice when she calls, or read her words when she texts me.

I need to talk to her. Be honest and tell her how I’m feeling. But I just got her to agree to spend the holidays with me, so I’ll selfishly take the time and won’t mention anything right now. God, this is killing me.

When I wake up, I fix myself a cup of coffee before calling my mom to tell her about the change of plans.

Taking my coffee over to the couch, I kick my feet up and call her.

“Hi, dear,” she says when she answers the phone.

“Hey. You busy?”

“No. How are you?” she asks.

“Good. Um, I have a minor change of plans for Christmas,” I tell her. “I’m gonna bring Candace with me.” I say this, almost cringing at what her reaction is going to be. I’ve never brought a girl home with me—ever.

She’s surprisingly understated when she says, “That doesn’t sound like something minor. So what’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“But you’re bringing her here. Home. With the whole family. And nothing’s going on?” she pries.

“She’s alone, and I don’t want her to be. That’s all,” I explain, but we both know that’s not all.

“Alone? Where’s her family?”

I take a long sip of my coffee before explaining, “She doesn’t have a good relationship with her parents. The last time she saw them, they wound up in a huge fight and they said some pretty bad things to her. She’s going back to see them for dinner on Christmas Eve, and I told her that I would go with her.”

“Oh. So, when are you coming home?”

“We’re gonna drive down on Christmas, so I won’t be there in the morning with the kids,” I tell her, feeling a little guilty that I won’t be there when they wake up.

“They’ll understand. I’ll talk to them,” she assures me. “I’m glad I finally get to meet this girl,” she says with excitement.

“Mom, she can be really shy,” I warn. “I know she’s gonna be overwhelmed with everyone at the house, and I don’t want to make it any more awkward for her if anything was to be insinuated. It’s just not that way with us.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” she teases, and I know she will be. “Well, I should run out and get her a little something.”

“No gifts.”

“It’s Christmas, Ryan,” she says, annoyed by my demand.

“She made me promise. Told me that gifts make her uncomfortable.”

“Ryan, how much do you know about this girl?” I can hear the uncertainty about Candace in her voice.

“Why?”

She lets out a heavy breath before saying, “It just sounds like she has some issues going on, and I wonder what you really know about her.”

I take a moment because all I want to do is defend this girl. Truth is, I know she has issues. I’m not blind to the odd behavior I catch glimpses of and the couple of things that Jase and Mark have said about her. But whatever is going on, I don’t think it could ever be enough to keep me away. So, I bypass my mom’s concerns and leave it at, “She’s special. I don’t know what’s going on with us, but she’s important to me.”

I can almost hear my mother’s smile when she says, “Well, then she’s important to me too.”

“She’s a good girl, but her walls aren’t that easy to break down.”

“Sometimes it isn’t about breaking walls, dear. Sometimes it’s simply about proving yourself to the other person that they’re willing to just let them down.”

My mom’s support is a constant in my life, and I’m grateful that I can depend on that from her.

“Thanks, Mom.”