Текст книги "A Lover's Lament "

Автор книги: K. L. Grayson

Соавторы: B. T. Urruela
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

“Fall” – Ed Sheeran

“I THINK I’M READY.” MY eyes widen at my own admission and Dr. Perry raises an eyebrow, clearly unsure as to what I’m talking about. “Drexler,” I clarify, “I think I’m ready to deal with Andrew Drexler.”

“What do you mean by deal with him?”

Dropping my head back, I look up at the ceiling fan, watching the blades go around and around. Who the hell has a ceiling fan in their office? “Katie?”

“I’m thinkin’,” I mumble. What exactly do I want? I’m not really sure. I just know that I’ve come so far and I’m starting to feel happy again. I’ve found the place I thought I’d lost forever, but one thing is still there in the back of my mind. “I need to read his letter, or maybe meet with him. I don’t really know.” Sitting up, I lock eyes with Dr. Perry. “I just know that I want to move past it once and for all, and he’s the one thing left standing in my way.”

“Standing in your way of what?”

“Life. Happiness. Forgiveness. You name it.”

“Who do you want to forgive?” Her probing eyes see way too much, and even though I want nothing more than to look away, I don’t. “Him, or yourself?”

I shrug. “Both, maybe. It’s hard to explain. It’s just …” My words trail off as I think of the best way to put it. “I want to move on. I’ve moved past so much of my anger and resentment, but I want to move past all of it. I want to…” I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face when my throat grows tight. “I want to be able to think of my dad without thinking about Drexler. I want peace.”

The smile on Dr. Perry’s face widens and something inside of me relaxes. “I’m proud of you, Katie, and I think it’s a great idea.”

“You do?”

“Absolutely. I think you’re ready. But maybe just start by reading his letter, and then if you still feel unsettled, you can contemplate speaking with him.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” I smile and rub my hands along the front of my thighs, then push up from the couch.

“Goodnight, Katie. I’ll see you next week.”

With a small wave, I turn toward the door when Dr. Perry calls out to me. “Oh, by the way, how are things going with your pen pal?”

“They’re going great.” Better than great, I think to myself as I leave Dr. Perry’s office, much lighter than ever before. And I know there is really only one person to thank for that—the same person who has somehow managed to hijack my head, considering I find myself thinking about him nearly twenty-four-seven.

“Goodnight, Kelly!” I wave at Dr. Perry’s secretary on my way out, tugging my phone from my pocket the second I slide into my car. Three missed calls pop up on my phone, and I roll my eyes at the sight of Wyatt’s name. He’s really backed off lately; in fact, I haven’t heard from him in several days. So why is he calling me again all of a sudden?

Just then, my phone vibrates in my hand, lighting up with Wyatt’s phone number. Curious as to why he’s rapid-fire calling me, I flip open my phone.

“Hello.”

“Katie, hey … I, uh … I didn’t expect you to answer.”

“I was with Dr. Perry. I’m just heading home. What’s up?” Transferring my phone to speaker, I start my car and pull out of the parking lot. I hear the faint sound of a woman giggling in the background. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh …” Wyatt grunts and then more giggling ensues. I cringe, wondering what in the hell is going on, and I’m seconds away from asking him just that when he says the last thing I expect to hear. “No, everything isn’t okay. I was calling because I have Bailey, and she’s”—Wyatt grunts—“shit, are you okay?” There’s another grunt followed by some rustling sounds, and now I’m wondering if Bailey really is okay and why in the hell Wyatt is with her.

“Wyatt? What do you mean you have Bailey?”

“She’s wasted,” he says, sighing. “She refuses to let me take her to your mom’s, and no way in hell am I bringing her to my place.”

“Bring her to me.” I can’t help but laugh. Bailey is a funny drunk, although I can’t help but wonder why she’s drunk at six o’clock in the evening. “I’ll be home in two minutes.”

“Thank God,” he says with an exaggerated groan. “We’re sitting in your driveway.”

“Almost there.” I disconnect the call as I turn onto my street. Sure enough, Wyatt’s truck is parked in the driveway and he’s standing outside, leaning against his sleek black Chevy. Pulling in, I throw my car in park and start laughing hysterically at the sight of Bailey’s face squished against the glass of the passenger-side window.

Wyatt walks around the truck and opens the passenger door, sticking a hand out just in time to stop Bailey from toppling to the ground. Scooping her up, he tosses her over his shoulder and I shake my head, laughing.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, but it is.” Unlocking my front door, I hold it open for Wyatt and he walks in and places Bailey on the couch. I reach down to tug Bailey’s heels off, causing her to stir and roll onto her side. Her eyelids bob heavily several times and she swallows hard.

“Are you going to be sick?” I ask, pointing to the trashcan and motioning for Wyatt to bring it to me.

“He cheated on me.” Her words are slurred as she clumsily reaches up to wipe away some tears that have gathered in her eyes. My heart clenches, and I kneel down on the floor next to the couch to run a soothing hand along her forehead. No wonder she’s hammered this early in the evening.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Wyatt hands me the trashcan and I place it on the floor, just in case she feels the need to hurl later—which she most likely will. “He doesn’t deserve you, Bay. You’re too good for him.”

“But I wanted him.” Her eyes drift shut and when she sighs, the smell of her breath nearly knocks me on my ass. Okay, so her drug of choice tonight was tequila. Nice. That should be a lovely smell in the morning when I’m cleaning up whatever mess she makes.

“I know you wanted him, babe.” Brushing the hair out of her face, I lean down and kiss her forehead, glad that she’s too drunk to remember that she’s mad at me. “But sometimes what we want isn’t always what’s best for us.”

A faint snore falls from Bailey’s mouth, and I pull an afghan off the back of the couch and tuck it in around her. Standing up from the floor, I come face-to-face with Wyatt. “Thanks for bringing her by.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Lifting the hat from his head, Wyatt runs his fingers through his hair before readjusting the Stetson. I always loved it when Wyatt wore his cowboy hat. It made me think of my Daddy. “She called and said she didn’t know who else to call.” Wyatt props a hip against the wall and cocks his head to the side. “Why didn’t she just call you?”

Great. Not exactly the conversation I want to have. Turning toward the kitchen, I wave for Wyatt to follow me so we don’t disturb Bailey. “Well,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, “we aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”

“Why’s that?” His southern drawl has always grown thicker when he’s concerned, and it’s more than prominent now.

“She got mad when she found out that you and I broke up.” Looking down, I fidget with the cap to my bottle, unsure as to why I suddenly find it hard to look Wyatt in the eye. I sure as hell was able to look him in the eye when I broke his heart.

“We didn’t break up.”

My head snaps up. “Uh, yeah we did.”

“No.” Wyatt takes a step toward me. My entire body freezes. “You broke up with me. To say that we broke up is a complete lie, because if I remember correctly, I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“No, I guess you didn’t.” Glancing down, I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Wyatt.” For the first time since it happened, guilt over breaking up with him slices through me. Not because I regret ending things with him—because I don’t—but because I feel bad for hurting him. And I’m not going to lie, having him here in my house again is familiar and comforting, and I’m finding it mildly unsettling.

I jump at the feel of Wyatt’s warm hand on my face, but I don’t look up. This is all so confusing. I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze, but when he hooks his thumb under my chin, tilting my head up, I don’t have much of a choice. His eyes are intense, swimming with emotion, and I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Please don’t do this.

“I don’t want you to apologize, Katie.” He swallows hard. “What I want is for you to give me another chance.”

“Wyatt,” I say, groaning. Furrowing my brows, I shake my head. “Please—”

“Just hear me out,” he says, holding up a hand. “I get it. I get why you broke things off. You’ve gone through so much lately, and I—I wasn’t there for you like I should’ve been. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that, but I can show you. Let me show you.”

“Wyatt.” I stare at him for a few seconds, hating that he’s putting me in this position. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Let me change your mind,” he pleads. “We were great together, Katie, and yes, somewhere along the way we drifted apart. But I know that we can find our way back to each other. I just need you to give me a chance.”

“I don’t—”

“Dinner,” he blurts. “Just have dinner with me. Let’s talk. That’s all I ask.”

“I don’t know, Wyatt.” My stomach rolls with uncertainty, but turning him down on the phone was much easier than telling him ‘no’ in person.

“Think about it.” Slowly, he backs away from me with a hopeful smile on his face. “Just think about it.”

“Okay,” I concede. “I’ll think about it.”

He doesn’t say another word. Turning around, he walks out of the house, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Completely defeated, I drop into a seat at the kitchen table. Telling Wyatt that I’d think about having dinner with him was a huge mistake, because I know deep down that no matter how familiar it felt to be around him again, I made the right choice. And no dinner is going to change that.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I groan. “Come on, Wy.” Scooping my phone out of my pocket, I’m prepared to see Wyatt’s number—yet again—but the number is completely foreign to me. Who the hell is this? It’s probably some damn telemarketer, and usually I’d just send them to voicemail, but for some unknown reason I decide to answer.

“Hello.”

“Katie?”

I’d know that voice anywhere. A tiny wave of electricity buzzes through my body, sending a shiver down my spine. No way. The sinking feeling in my stomach from before is now a swarm of butterflies that decide to take flight all at once. I push up from the table, knocking the chair over in the process. “Devin?” My voice comes out way too breathy, but I don’t have time to care because I’m too busy being shocked, and excited, and hopeful …

“Hi.” His rich, gravelly voice floats through the line, soaks into my skin and wraps itself around my heart. I’ve wanted to talk to him—to hear his voice saying the words that he’s written—but I didn’t realize I needed it until now.

I can’t believe he called.

He’s on the line, no doubt waiting for me to talk, but I’m utterly speechless. The only thing I can think of is that now that I’ve heard his voice again, reading his words won’t be enough. I’ll crave this … this connection. It’ll be my new weakness, my new drug of choice.

“Is this a bad time?” I can practically see him frowning through the line.

“No!” I take a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. “No, it’s perfect. You just caught me off-guard. I didn’t expect to hear from you, and now here you are on the phone and it’s so different, you know?” I cringe, loathing the way I’m rambling but completely unable to stop it. “Hearing your voice, it’s just … it’s … it’s too much … it’s been so long …”

Devin chuckles and goose bumps scatter up my arms. He’s laughing at me, and I don’t even care because the sound of his laugh is like a heating blanket, warming me from the outside in.

“Katie?”

“Yeah?”

“You were engaged to Wyatt.” Okay, I wasn’t exactly expecting him to say that. He obviously got my email.

“Were. Past tense.”

“I’ve never been so fucking relieved to read something in my life.”

“Yeah?”

“You have no idea,” he says. “And Katie?”

“Yeah?”

“Email or phone?” he asks.

“Is this a trick question?” A slow grin spreads across my face.

“You’re supposed to just answer,” he says, laughing. “You aren’t supposed to answer a question with another question. Now answer the question, Katie.” His commanding tone causes shivers to run down my spine. I forgot how alpha he could be.

“Phone.” I didn’t have to think twice. Our words may have reconnected us, but hearing his voice only confirms the one thing I’ve suspected all along: what we had never went away.

“Good answer.”

My cheeks are hurting—seriously, they’re cramping up—and if I don’t stop smiling soon, I’m afraid I’ll have this goofy-as-hell grin for the rest of my life. But it feels good … really good. “What would you have done if I said email?”

“I would’ve hung up and emailed you.” He chuckles. “You’ve never been one to ramble, so is it because you’re nervous … or is it just me?”

My racing heart kicks up a few extra notches because it’s totally him. I’m tempted to tell him that I do ramble and he just doesn’t remember correctly, because telling Devin that it’s him is the equivalent of slicing my chest open and laying my heart on the line—and quite frankly, my heart has been through enough lately. But as tempting as it is, I know that I have to tell him the truth. We’ve come too far and built too much in such a short amount of time, and whatever this is, I don’t want to jeopardize it … or lose it.

“It’s you.” Leaning forward, I prop my hands on the counter. Holy shit, that was terrifying.

Devin blows out a slow breath but doesn’t respond. Oh shit. My stomach tightens as I try to come up with a way to dig myself out of this. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“I like your answer.”

“You do?” That knot in my stomach unravels, taking with it the urge to throw up.

“More than I probably should,” he says with a sigh. The line crackles, going completely silent for a few beats, and I’m worried that the call was somehow dropped when I hear him clear his voice. “I have a confession to make.”

“Okay …” My nerves are running at high speed, so I grab a pot from beneath the sink. Maybe if I keep myself busy, I’ll be more relaxed.

“Shit,” he says, laughing. “I really don’t want you to think I’m some sort of stalker …”

“Spit it out, Sergeant,” I quip.

“I stalked your MySpace page,” he breathes, quickly rushing to explain. “My friend Navas, that fucker, had me convinced that I needed to see you again, to see what you’ve been up to. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to know what you looked like after all these years, but … are you laughing at me?”

“S-sorry.” I gasp to catch my breath. “I’m laughing because—” My abs constrict, tears of happiness—and quite possibly relief—running down my face. I suck in a breath. “I totally stalked you too.”

“You did?” He sounds surprised, which makes me laugh harder.

“Yes, I had to. Maggie made me!” Filling the pot up with water, I place it on the stove, setting the temperature to high.

“She made you?” he teases. “How did she make you?”

“She’s evil, Devin. She’s a little devil, and she’s enamored with you and your chiseled abs.”

“I think Maggie and I are going to be great friends.”

“I’ll tell her you said that.” Wiping the wetness from my face, I pull the angel hair pasta from the cupboard.

“And you … were you enamored with my chiseled abs?” I smile, picturing Devin with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Nah. Your abs could use some work, if you ask me,” I joke.

Devin’s laugh is deep and throaty, and it does things to me that a laugh should never be able to do to someone. It’s quickly becoming my favorite sound. “I’ll have to remember to do an extra set of sit-ups tomorrow.”

“Your smile.”

“Huh?”

“It was your smile that got to me.” Without permission, my mouth continues to spew exactly what’s running through my head. “I miss seeing the way it lit up your face. And that dimple in your left cheek … I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s just as sexy now as it was then.”

He sucks in a sharp breath at my confession. Then the line goes quiet, and I can’t help but think that I’m crazy for opening my mouth and saying those things. What the hell was I thinking?

“How are you, Katie?” Devin’s voice is infused with so much emotion. I take a deep breath, thankful that we’re finally getting the chance to talk while simultaneously trying not to dwell on the fact that he didn’t mention what he thought about me. I know I don’t look the same. What if he doesn’t find me attractive anymore?

“Good,” I answer honestly. I drop the pasta into the near boiling pot of water. “I’m good. I had a session with Dr. Perry tonight, and I told her that I think I’m ready to read Andrew Drexler’s letter.”

“Wow,” he breathes. “That’s a huge step. But you’re strong, and if anyone can do it, I know you can. I’m so proud of you.”

Hearing him tell me that he’s proud of me gives me an enormous amount of confidence, but it also makes me nervous. “I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

Closing my eyes, I conjure up a vision of my dad. He’s smiling, his round cheeks red from laughter, and I wonder what he would want me to do. “He’d want me to forgive him,” I murmur, quickly repeating those words as they sink in. “Daddy would want me to forgive him.”

“One step at a time, that’s all you can do. Read the letter first, listen to what he has to say and then go from there. You don’t have to forgive him right away—or at all, for that matter—but at least you’re taking that step. Just remember you’re taking that step for you, and no one else.”

“Wait a minute … is this Dr. Perry?” I quip. “No really, what did you do with her?”

“Ha ha.”

The faint sound of water sizzling catches my attention, so I open my eyes and whip around. “Shit.” Quickly, I turn the temperature of the stovetop down and blow across the top of the steaming water until it stops boiling over.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, I’m fine. Just a little cooking mishap. And in case you’re wondering, no, I’m not a better cook now than I was before you left.”

“Duly noted.” Devin yawns through the line and I look at my watch. Six forty-five. I wonder what time it is where he’s at. “What are you cooking?”

“Do you really want me to tell you?” I ask. “Is it going to make you dream of food?”

“Tell me, woman. Let me live vicariously through you.”

“Okay,” I drawl. “Wait for it … wait for it … spaghetti!”

“Mmmm.” Devin moans, deep and long. The vibration in his voice slams into me like a tidal wave. Desire pools low in my belly, and a vision of the two of us naked and writhing in bed flashes through my head.

“That’s sounds so good,” he says.

“It—” My voice squeaks and I clear my throat, thankful when the words come out right the second time around. “It is. It’s become my specialty.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your secret?”

“Well, if I told ya, I’d have to kill ya.”

“Wow, now I’m dying to know.”

“Fine, fine, twist my arm, why don’t you? It’s chicken.”

“What?” He chuckles. “Chicken?”

“Yeah. I put chicken in the spaghetti rather than beef. It’s amazing! I’ll make it for you some time.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

I hope you do, soldier. “It’ll be great. We can have a spaghetti picnic under the stars. If you’re good, I’ll even pack Cool Ranch chips and Mountain Dew.”

“You remembered,” he mumbles as though lost in thought. I nod my head, but by the time I remember I’m on the phone and he can’t actually see me, he starts talking again. “And on this picnic, will you serenade me with Backstreet Boys too?”

We both fall into a fit of laughter as we argue the age-old question of who is better—or worse, as Devin likes to say—Backstreet Boys or NSYNC. Then I go on to tell him about Bailey, why she’s upset with me, and how she ended up here tonight—leaving out the fact that Wyatt brought her. He doesn’t need to know everything.

Devin tells me some funny stories about his friend Navas, and I can tell by the way he talks about him that Navas is a good person. I’m glad that Devin has someone like that in his life—someone he can trust and talk to that’s there with him, day in and day out. If I’m being honest, I’m a little jealous that I’ve been replaced, and then I wonder if that’s how Devin feels when I go on and on about Maggie.

Devin is yawning nearly every other word, and when I glance at the clock in my kitchen, I notice that we’ve been on the phone for nearly an hour. “You sound exhausted. What time is it there?”

“Ummm …” The phone buzzes and crackles a few more times. “Almost two-fifteen.”

“In the morning? Oh my gosh, Devin, why didn’t you tell me I was keeping you up?”

“Because I wanted to talk you, Katie.” My shoulders relax, but I still feel bad. He probably has to get up at the asscrack of dawn. “And trust me, I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“We’re going to discuss that the next time we talk,” I say, causing him to chortle. “But I’m letting you go because you need to get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Neither of us says a word or makes the first move to hang up. I’m instantly transported into the ‘you hang up, no, you hang up’ antics we used to play as children, before his mom disconnected their phone. “I’ll try and call you again soon,” he says.

“You better.”

“Katie?”

“Yeah?” Walking into the living room, I curl up in the recliner and lean my head back, closing my eyes.

“This was—”

“Great,” I interrupt. “It was great.” He mumbles in agreement, and suddenly I feel the need to ask him about us. I need to know if he feels this connection or if it’s just in my head, because I can feel myself starting to fall again. And wouldn’t it be a bitch if there was no one there to catch me?

“Devin?”

“Yeah?”

“This friendship … it’s, um … I mean, I feel like …” I bite my lip, frustrated that I can’t seem to put into words everything that I’m thinking and feeling. Taking a deep breath, I reach down deep, grasping whatever courage I can find. “Since your first letter to me, I’ve felt … I just …”

“I feel it, Katie.”

Everything around me blurs as tears fill my eyes. “You do? Because I feel it, and it’s powerful and overwhelming and I thought I had moved past it, and then all of a sudden, there it was again, and ... ”

Devin sighs, a rush of air sounding through the phone. “God, Katie. I don’t know how to explain it, but you’re not alone. I feel the same way, only I knew that I never moved past it. Believe me, I tried because I thought it was best, but it’s always been there for me. Why do you think I was so quick to reply to your letter when I tossed all the other letters away?” My heart constricts. I had no idea he’d tossed other letters away ... he didn’t tell me that. “And yes, it’s powerful and overwhelming, but in a good way. Christ, what we had … I’d never felt anything like it before, and now, there just aren’t words for it.”

I sniff, wiping my face with my arm. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that. I didn’t know … I thought maybe it was just me. That maybe I was making it so much more than it was—”

“It’s everything.” His voice grows thick with emotion. “Whatever this is between us … it’s big, Katie. Bigger than you, bigger than me … and ten years hasn’t changed that.”

“So, what now?”

“I don’t know.” If it’s at all possible, his voice seems lighter, as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “But I think that I’m going to like figuring it out.”

My lips lift at the corners, a grin splitting my face. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, okay then. So call me when you can?”

“Soon. I promise.”

My heart soars as I let go of all the insecurities I was having about Devin. I know that when I lay my head down tonight, he’ll consume my dreams. “Goodnight.”

“Katie?”

“Still here. You’ll totally have to hang up first.”

His boisterous laugh fills the room—and my heart. “I’ll hang up first, not because I want to but because I’m fuckin’ exhausted and I have to be up in like three hours. But I need to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” Pushing my foot on the floor, I rock back in the chair, completely content and happy. For the first time in a long time, I feel genuinely happy.

“It was your eyes.” Adrenaline pumps through my veins. Warmth radiates throughout my body and the smile that’s been plastered to my face since hearing his voice again … yup, it just got a little bit bigger. Devin clears his throat. “You’ve always been gorgeous, Katie, and I knew that no amount of time would change that. But from the first time I laid eyes on you in the first grade, it’s always been your eyes. And when I get to see you again—and I will get to see you again—I’ll tell you exactly why they’ve always captivated me.”

“Or now … you could tell me now.”

“Some things need to be said in person.” I can hear him smiling through the phone. “Katie?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so sorry for hurting you.” His voice cracks on the last word, and that crack resonates all the way to my soul. “I’ll never be able to—”

“I forgive you.” Once again, the words rush from my mouth before I have any time to think about them. But I’m okay with it, because right now I feel so incredibly light as my heart flops over inside my chest.

Devin breathes heavily into the phone for several seconds. “Goodnight, Katie.” I get the feeling he’d stay on all night if he could.

“Goodnight, Devin,” I say with hesitation. The click and buzz of the dead line sends my heart plummeting into my stomach because I have no idea when I’ll get to talk to him again.

Visions of that news story I saw the other day flash through my head.

If I’ll ever get to talk to him again.