Текст книги "Whipped"

Автор книги: Elizabeth Lee

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I was slowly starting to understand what that whole “patience is a virtue” proverb meant. It was a virtue I was trying my damnedest to hold onto when it came to Georgia. I really wanted to be that understanding guy who was strong enough for the both of us, and considering the events of the last twelve hours, I thought I’d done pretty well.

The vulnerability she had shown when she asked me if I would stay the night with her had me unable to walk away. That little part of me that said “don’t get too attached” was shouting in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t leave her. Not when she was showing me that side of herself. The same side she’d shown me in the car when she told me about Jamie. I knew that it was taking her out of her comfort zone to share those things with me.

Her fiancé had been gone for three years, which I thought was enough time for her to grieve and be ready to move on, but apparently I was wrong. The harsh reality was that there was no time frame for grief. I could still see it in her eyes when she realized she was wearing the ring, but it was more than that. The photographs she still had on display. The conversation with his mother. She was still holding on and everywhere I looked he was there... holding onto her in one way or another. Tethering her to the past and taunting me from beyond the grave. She loved him and he had her first. Hell, maybe he still had her.

I was frustrated. She was frustrated. It was starting to feel like the world was against us being together. And, maybe it should have been. Maybe now wasn’t the best time for us. As loud as the voice was that said to leave her be, the one that said “don’t let her go” was just as loud.

“Hi,” I said, when I opened my eyes the next morning. I’d started to stir when I felt her pull from my arms and get out of the bed. Now, don’t get me wrong, there was no place I’d rather be. I don’t think I’d ever just slept with a girl. Sex might not have been involved, but sleeping in the same bed with her and feeling her body against mine as we slept was pretty amazing. But, it wasn’t what I’d been expecting when she pulled me into her bedroom the night before. We started off hot and heavy and headed in a direction that I thought we were both ready for, but once again, I was wrong. The second the light caught that diamond laying against her body, both of us—and our hormones—came to a screeching halt.

“Hey,” she said softly as she rummaged through her closet and pulled out a pair of black Converse tennis shoes. “Sorry if I woke you. I was trying to keep quiet so you could sleep.”

“It’s okay,” I told her. I would have missed seeing her face if she had sneaked out. As she put on her shoes, I looked at the clock on her nightstand. Eight-thirty-three. “What time is your test?”

“In an hour. I wanted to get there a little early though so I could run back over my notes.” She’d already changed into jeans and a red hooded sweatshirt that said RN in Training across the front. Her hair was still a little damp from the shower she must have taken.

“You’ll do great,” I assured her. I could see she was concerned, but I had a feeling it had nothing to do with her exam. “About last night...”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I hope that it didn’t—”

“It didn’t,” I said, not needing to hear the rest of her thought. Nothing was going to stop the feelings I had for this girl. It might have been a hurdle, sure, but I’d never felt the way I felt about her with anyone else. “I just... it’s...” I wanted to say the right thing. “I don’t ever want you to feel pressured with me. I know that you’ve had a lot to deal with, especially when it comes to Jamie.”

“I have, but I’m really trying. I promise,” she said, coming over to sit beside me on the bed. “I guess I’d just gotten so used to wearing the ring that I forgot I had it on.”

“If you’re not ready... for me... for us. I understand.”

“I am ready,” she said, placing her hand on mine. “I want to move on.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to mine in a reassuring effort. I nodded and smiled when she pulled away. I wanted to believe her. I wanted there to be hope for us.

“Can I see you this weekend?” I asked. “Maybe we could go to that movie?”

“I want to, but I’m at the hospital Friday and Saturday. Then I have a family dinner on Sunday.”

“Okay,” I said, trying not to look too disappointed. “I guess Tuesday then? Reid’s parents.”

“I’ll pick up food,” she said. “We’ll make a date of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Stay as long as you want,” she said. “There’s coffee in the kitchen and muffins. I think,” she added, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“Text me and let me know how the test goes.”

“I will,” she promised. “And, Brett,” she said, stopping to look at me on her way out. “Thank you for staying last night. It meant a lot to me that you didn’t run screaming. I know I’ve got a lot of baggage.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

* * *

When she’d said I could stay as long as I wanted, I doubt that she’d meant stay as long as you want and snoop through my room, but I was curious. Maybe it was a little juvenile, but I wanted to know more about her. I wasn’t creepily stalking or crossing any lines. I didn’t go near the dresser drawers or rummage through dirty laundry. I was just taking it all in. Observing, really. I checked out the artwork she had hanging on her wall—a large watercolor of a daisy—and I ran my fingertips over the silk robe she had hanging on the back of the wall. I picked up the perfume bottle sitting on her dresser and read the label after removing the cap for a sniff. Walk on Air. It might come in handy. Girls were hard to shop for. Being in her room, I felt like I was getting closer to her. She at least trusted me enough to leave me alone here. That had to mean something, right?

After I’d fixed myself a cup of coffee, I decided to make the bed and straighten the place up a little. I didn’t want her to have to come home to a mess after her big test. After pulling up the covers and returning the collection of throw pillows on her floor to their rightful place, I couldn’t help but notice she’d left her closet door open. When I walked over to close it, I noticed the large tote sitting on the floor. JAMIE was written out in large magic marker letters.

This guy is literally everywhere I turn.

And now I was jealous of a dead guy. I had issues. Clearly. The snoop in me wanted to open the box. I wanted to see what it was that she kept boxed up and within arm’s reach at all times. I wanted to take it and throw it out. I wanted him to have never had the part of her that I was trying so hard to get for myself.

This was uncharted territory for me. I was in a race that I wasn’t sure I could win. I felt like I wanted to give up and, judging from the tightness in my chest, my heart was saying the same thing. This is exactly why I didn’t do relationships. They were complicated and messy and someone was bound to get their heart broken. It was seeming more and more like it was going to be me.

Fuck this.

Georgia was clearly not ready to move on with me. How could she be when she was still in love with someone else? My heart broke for her when I thought of her situation. I was compassionate to a point. The point being: he was gone and I was here. I was the one living and breathing and trying to give her a part of me that I had never given to anyone else.

I left her house that day and went straight to physical therapy. After changing into some gym clothes I’d tossed in a bag in the backseat of my truck, I channeled my frustration into the hardest workout I’d put my knee through yet. I lifted and pressed and jogged until I felt each muscle burn and throb and beg for me to quit. If I wasn’t going to make any progress with Georgia, then I’d focus on getting back to riding. I’d focus on moving on with my life, even if she wasn’t a part of it.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Will insisted when he’d come into the training center for his shift. I wasn't even on the schedule that morning. I had managed to charm my way into an open session by sweet talking the receptionist. Who was cute enough that had I not been so consumed with my Georgia situation, I probably would have convinced her to meet me in an empty closet or at least head out to the parking lot for a little backseat action. I’d forgotten what it was even like for things to be simple and easy. Ever since Georgia had walked into the picture I’d become soft. I’d become that guy who pines over a girl that he’s not even sure he can have. I’d become Reid.

Son of a bitch.

“I’m good,” I said, brushing off Will’s concern.

“It wasn’t a suggestion, Sallinger,” he said, channeling his inner baseball coach. “They said you’ve been in here for over two hours. Your knee isn’t ready for that. So unless you want to forget about getting back on a bike I suggest you throw in the towel.”

“Fine,” I huffed, turning off the treadmill. “My knee feels fine. I know my limits.”

“I know you do,” he said, handing me a towel. I wiped the sweat from my forehead. “But this is why they pay me the big bucks,” he added, trying to coax some civility out of me.

“I guess they do.” A slight smile cracked my lips, but that was the best I could do. I walked over to the bench where I’d stashed my water bottle and grabbed it up. If I couldn’t work out here, I could at least go back to the cabin and continue on my own.

“Everything okay?” Will had followed behind me. Couldn’t he see I wasn’t in the mood for a conversation?

“Yep.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “I’m a physical therapist which is not the kind of therapist you seem to need today. Just don’t let whatever is going on inside your head get in the way of what you’re trying to do for your body.”

“I know. I won’t,” I assured him. His concern was thoughtful. Maybe I had overworked it but it was hard for me to just sit idling with my thoughts all over the place. I’d always had a dirt bike to be my therapist. Lost a race? Ride. Got in a fight? Ride. Girl problems? Ride. It was all I knew and not having my stress relieving stand by to fall back on, I didn’t know what else to do. “I’ll even take tomorrow off if it will get you off my back,” I said, rousing him with a snap of my towel.

“That’d be good,” he said with a smile as he jumped out of the way of my towel snap. “Don’t forget you need rest just as much as you need PT.”

“You got it, boss.” I saluted as I backed out of the door. I couldn’t fault the guy for doing his job. I felt bad for taking my frustration out on him. The person I should have been directing my frustration toward was not in that gym. No. She was texting me from her college campus letting me know that her test had gone well. I pulled my phone from my pocket and thought about calling her. I thought about confessing that I’d found her stash of Jamie memorabilia and that I was seriously concerned with whether or not I was wasting my time. But, I didn’t. I needed to think about what I wanted to say to her when I saw her on Tuesday.

Me: Good job!

That was all I had.

“It’s so good to see you, Georgia,” Iris Shaw said when I walked into her kitchen on Sunday. I’d let myself in the front door knowing that I’d find her slaving away over a meal. The same meal that she served the last Sunday of every month. “It’s Jamie’s favorite,” Iris would remind us all as she served the meal. It was nearing one o’clock which meant the rest of the Shaw clan would be arriving soon. Everyone taking a pause from their normal lives to placate Iris. I knew I was doing the same thing each and every time I showed up.

I’ll never forget the weekend I told her I might not make it. My sister had asked me if I wanted to take a last minute shopping trip to the mall a few towns over. You would have thought I was telling Iris I was going shopping with Satan.

“Nora knows that we have a standing dinner date every last Sunday of the month,” she said. “Can’t you go shopping another weekend?” So I did. I told my sister I couldn’t go and ate dinner with the Shaws’ instead. Exactly like I was about to do now.

“You too,” I said, walking around the kitchen island where she was chopping lettuce for a salad and placing it into a bowl. Salad, lasagna, garlic bread, pecan pie. Every single time. I don’t know how many times I wanted to tell Iris that Jamie had lots of favorite foods. He was more than just lasagna, but I never did. I never said anything to Iris about Jamie, other than what she wanted to hear, because I knew she was barely holding on as it was. He was the youngest of three. Her baby.

As terrible as my loss was, I couldn’t imagine what she went through or what she was still going through. No parent should ever have to bury her child.

“Derek isn’t going to make it today,” she said. Derek was Jamie’s oldest brother. “He’s busy with work. Some big case coming up and he doesn’t have time to make the drive,” she explained. Derek was an attorney who lived in St. Louis. “Can you believe that he couldn’t spare one afternoon for his mother?” she said, coating the aggravation in her tone with a laugh.

“I’m sure he’d be here if he could,” I replied, but I knew the truth. Derek didn’t want to come back for the monthly mourning session. We kept in touch—the occasional email or text. It wasn’t that Derek didn’t love and miss his brother, it was that he had a hard time reliving all of the emotions that came along with losing him. We all did.

“I miss him, G,” he’d told me the last time I’d seen him. “I really do, but this,” he said, referring to the Sunday dinners, “this is too much. He wouldn’t want us all sitting around crying over him and it’s really hard not to when we have to watch my mom fall apart over and over again.”

“I think she needs this,” I told him. “I feel like she doesn’t know what else to do.”

“I know,” he’d replied. “There has to be a better way, though. I’m worried she actually thinks he’s going to walk through the door one day. Like he’s going to show up with the goofy grin of his and say ‘did you miss me?’” I’d thought the same thing about Iris’ expectations. I’d suggested to her that she visit the counselor I’d seen after he’d died, but she shut me down so fast that I’d never brought it up again.

“I don’t need anyone to tell me how to grieve my child,” she’d said flatly. She might not think so, but it had helped me a lot. Standing in the kitchen today and watching her repeat the same motions that she always did, I was starting to worry that maybe she needed help more than any of us.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked, trying not to think about the past anymore. I spent so much time there that it was a hard habit to break. Clearly, by the way things had been going with Brett.

“I think I’ve got it all covered,” she smiled. “Did you say hello to Jim? He’s out back.”

“I think I will,” I said, walking over to the backdoor and looking out. Jim, Jamie’s dad, was sitting on the patio recliner thumbing through a hardback copy of a book. He was a hardback book kind of guy. Jim Shaw was the Halstead High School history teacher. He had been as long as I’d known him. “Afternoon, Jim,” I said when I walked out on to the back patio. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Jamie looked a lot like his dad. Seeing Jim was kind of like having my own looking glass into the future of what could have been.

“Georgia,” he said, tipping his head the way he always did. “Sweet Georgia.”

“Never gets old,” I said with a grin. He was just as charming as ever. It took me almost a year after graduation to stop calling him Mr. Shaw, a habit from four years of history classes, and just go with Jim, which is what he’d insisted I call him. I took a seat on the chair next to him. “What are you reading?”

“The Outsiders,” he said, showing me the spine of the book. “Never gets old.”

“One of my favorites.” Even though Jim was a history teacher, he had a deep love for classic literature, and I just liked to read. Any and everything. That is, when I had time, before I was buried in medical texts and patient charts. We’d formed a bond over books that used to drive Jamie mad. He’d poke fun at our back and forths and tease us about being book nerds. I think deep down he really did love how close I was to his father.

“According to Iris, it sounds like you might have found your very own outsider,” he said grinning and looking over the top of his reading glasses. “Said she saw you with some tattooed boy from out of town. Her words. Not mine,” he chuckled. Comparing Brett to one of the Outsiders was fitting. My own combination of Soda and Two-Bit. Handsome and funny. Jim would like his sharp wit, Iris wouldn’t like him no matter what.

“I’m sorry that she had to...” I shook my head. It was what it looked like. Brett and I had been in that grocery store as a couple. “I wish she hadn’t seen us together. It wasn’t how I planned for her to find out I was seeing someone.”

“Don’t be sorry, Georgia,” he said. “Who you’re in a grocery store with is none of my wife’s concern. I’m sorry if she made things uncomfortable for you.”

“She didn’t make things uncomfortable,” I assured him, but I knew he could tell I was lying. “Maybe a little.”

“If years of teaching have taught me anything, it’s to not judge anyone based on their appearance. If the tattooed boy is good enough for you, he’s good enough for me.” He winked. “I think it’s fantastic that you’re seeing someone. I think it’s time for all of us to start moving forward,” he said.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“I’m really trying,” I confessed. “I feel like I’m ready. You’d really like him,” I added.

“What good is life if you have nothing to look forward to?” he asked. He was always good at being philosophical when the time called for it. “You have the possibility of love. Iris and I have the joy of watching Derek and Paul grow. I’m not sure, but I feel like grandkids are in our future.”

“That would be wonderful.” I knew that Paul was newly married and Derek was probably well on his way. They were moving forward. They were living. I hoped that they could help fill some void in their mother’s life with their own. I know, because she brought it up often, that she believed Jamie and I would be married by now and either with or expecting our own child. She was probably right. We probably would have been on that exact path, but the fact of the matter was, that road was closed. The sooner she accepted it, the better off we all would be. As for me, I wanted to share my life with someone. I wanted a family and the whole looking forward to the future thing Jim was talking about.

“I think that this might be the last Sunday dinner,” he told me. “I’ve been thinking of taking Iris on a trip or two. I’m close to retirement and I think it would do her some good to get out and see the world. To see that it didn’t stop turning just because we lost Jamie, you know?”

I nodded. I had a feeling that his words were somewhat directed at me. Jim had always stayed so level headed when it came to processing his feelings over losing his son. At first I thought it was because he was a man and men seem to deal with their emotions differently than women, but the more I talked to Jim, the more I realized he did truly miss Jamie. He was just in a different stage of grieving than his wife was. He had accepted the change. He had accepted that Jamie had chosen his path in life and even though it hadn’t ended the way we’d all hoped it would, it was his choice. He had made peace with the loss. He was in the stage I was trying so hard to get to.

“I think getting out and seeing the world sounds like a fantastic idea.”

* * *

The dinner seemed to last longer than usual. I think maybe Iris knew it was going to be the last. She’d mentioned something over pecan pie and coffee about taking a trip and Jim had given me a silent smile. By the time I was home, it was almost dark outside. My mental and physical states were both exhausted.

I tried calling Brett, hoping he could add a bright spot to my evening, but he didn’t answer. It was the second time that he hadn’t answered my call. Even his text messages were shorter and less flirty than normal. I couldn’t say that I blamed him. Things between us weren’t exactly going swimmingly. It was starting to seem like we were bound to be sidetracked when it came to taking our relationship to the next level.

Although, sleeping in the same bed had been very nice. He was hard and soft all at the same time. The way he wrapped his arms around me and intertwined his legs with mine as we slept might have been the highlight of my year. Sleeping alone in a queen size bed for as long as I had, I was surprised at how quickly I’d fallen asleep. I was usually at war with myself over my schedule, exam questions, or memories. That night with Brett, I’d fallen into a deep sleep fast to the feel of his chest rising and falling against my back. Quietly lulled into a peaceful state as he held my hand in his. The following nights, not so much. The following nights, I tossed and turned with thoughts of how I could make things better with us.

He might not have admitted it, but I know he was put off by the necklace. I knew that he was questioning even being with me. My ignored phone calls and short text responses said that much. I had a feeling that Tuesday night was going to be the night we really talked about things. I was ready to tell him everything. I was ready to let him in completely.

If anything, the dinner with the Shaws had been the eye opener I needed to get myself to the place I was ready to be with Brett. I needed to close the door on my relationship with Jamie. Not the memories, but the constant rehashing. I needed to not let myself wallow in the past. Jim was right about getting out and seeing the world. He was right about not letting oneself dwell. I could do this. I wanted to do this.

Me: We still on for Tuesday?

Brett: Yep.

Me: What are you doing?

Brett: Just about asleep. I had a long day. PT and then a call with parts distributors for the ProShop.

Me: Sounds exhausting. I’ll let you get some sleep.

Brett: Good night, Georgia.

Me: I miss you. I erased it and typed out something else.

Me: Sweet dreams, Brett.

I hoped they’d be of me but I wasn’t brave enough yet to tell him that.

Tuesday I would tell him I missed him when he wasn’t around. Tuesday I would tell him that I thought about him all the time. That he was so much more than just some motocross bad boy. That he was smart and funny and that he reminded me what it felt like to be alive.

Tuesday I would tell him that I didn’t know if I could keep going with our little plan to just be friends with benefits. To hell with just a fling. I was ready for more. I would tell him I wasn’t sure I could do this anymore because I was starting to fall in love with him.