Текст книги "Can't Let Go"
Автор книги: Michelle Lynn
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
“No one asked you too, Dex. Stop thinking you know what’s best for me,” I whisper, but he never turns around.
Knowing it’s the end of the discussion, I begin walking back to the truck. With families already packing up their cars as dusk falls, I stand by the truck, waiting for Dex. A few minutes go by, and I catch a glimpse of him weaving through kids crying and parents’ slumped shoulders, his hat pushed down over his eyes and his hands in his pockets.
We don’t speak as he opens my door, continuing to be a gentleman. Silence carries over to the drive home, and when he pulls into the driveway, I’m thankful all the lights are turned off. He hasn’t fully stopped when I shuffle out of the truck, through the back door and up the stairs.
Locking myself in the bathroom, I strip off my clothes and sit down in the shower. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I bury my head against my legs and cry for everything I’ll never have.
A MONTH HAS passed since I climbed out of Dex’s truck, shattered and broken. The lingering doubt that I’m not good enough is confirmed in not just his words but his actions as well. He’s gone more than he’s here lately, and every time I do see him, he displays the forced smile or tries tossing a joke out to diffuse the tension. He’s yet to figure out that by pushing me away, our friendship has suffered a devastating blow and is already fading down to roommates that will gradually dwindle to acquaintances.
With Rob having fixed my car, at least I have transportation and am no longer indebted to anyone for rides. Sadie and Brady are more than welcoming, insisting I stay until I’ve saved enough. Brady jokes that Sadie would throw herself in front of the door, but, with their wedding coming up, I need to start considering finding a place of my own.
When I walk into the gallery, Ryland is behind my desk, a conspicuous grin plastered on his face. “You caught me,” he says, standing up and walking along the side.
“Caught you?” I tilt my head in confusion.
“Listen, I have to go to Akron. Remember when I said I was considering opening another gallery?” I nod. “My realtor just called with an amazing deal on a space.” He has a realtor?
“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” I walk behind my desk, depositing my purse in the drawer and sliding forward, resting my elbows on my desk. Ryland stands there, leaning over, his dimples in pure sight. “What are you so happy about?” I ask, and he laughs.
“Nothing. I guess I’m just excited for new possibilities,” he comments, with his back to me while withdrawing to his office.
I boot up my computer and venture into the kitchen to start the coffee. But, I’m surprised to find it already brewing. “Ryland, you actually started the coffee maker?” I holler out the door, and he chuckles.
“I am self-sufficient, you know?” he jokes, appearing in the doorway. Leaning against the counter, I place my palms on the edge, and Ryland’s eyes rake my body before coming back to my eyes. I’ve caught him staring at my ass when I’m bent over a few times, or when I lean forward, his eyes dart back from peeking down my blouse. It’s always been a compliment to me, made me feel confident in my looks. I enjoyed the glances here or there. That’s where it stayed, though, and I like it there. Tucked away in a box. I mean, I can’t say I don’t admire his looks from time to time too, but Dex is the one who fills my dreams. A sadness flickers inside of me with the realization that I must love Dex a lot more then he does me, because I’d never be able to push him away like he is me.
This time, my breathing ups a few notches and my heart beats a tinge faster with his eyes on me. A churning excitement or anticipation of his next move brings the arrival of flutters in my stomach. “I’ll be back in a bit. Maybe pick us up some lunch.” The one corner of his lip turns up, and then he’s gone, and I’m stuck gripping the counter so hard my palm aches from the edge digging into my skin.
“All right,” I choke out, before I bury my head in my hands. Shaking it back and forth, embarrassment at my actions overtakes my mind. Could you imagine the women he must go for … definitely not a broke twenty-something with no education or family.
Waiting for the coffee to finish, I pull my mug from the sink rack and set it on the counter to be filled with the caffeine I’ve become addicted to in only months. A packet of Splenda and a spoon rests next to the pot. Did Ryland place that there for me? He probably was going to do it for himself, but then it dawns on me he takes his black. I smile at the sweet gesture.
Sitting back at my desk, I move my mouse to get my screen to pop on. My usual serene beach scene isn’t there to greet me behind the few icons I have on my desktop. It’s a black screen with words in a white script font. My hand shakes, barely able to place my coffee down on my desk when I read them out loud, “Tonight, seven o’clock? ~Ryland.” My hand flies to my open mouth. Confusion that he is, in fact, asking me out rushes to the surface.
I yank my drawer open, desperately digging for my phone. There’s only one person to talk to this about. When the rectangle piece of electronics is in my hands, the screen flashes and knowing her schedule by heart, she’s on her way to class. My fingers fly across the screen, hammering out a text all while praying she receives it before her class starts. The thought of waiting an excruciating hour would be atrocious.
Me: Ryland just asked me out? What do I do?
Tapping my fingers on the desk while my foot fidgets back and forth, the seconds seem like years before the swoosh of sound bings from my phone.
Sadie: I knew he had a thing for you. The first time he saw you, I sensed this tension.
Me: What do I do?
I type faster, my heartbeat panicked with the expectations of a date.
Sadie: Go.
Me: I can’t. He’s my boss.
Sadie: Is that the real reason you don’t want to go?
Pausing, I contemplate why this has brought such alarming emotions from me. I begin to calm as I try to weave my way through them.
Me: Probably not
I answer honestly because Sadie has been my shoulder for the array of emotions Dex pulls out of me.
Sadie: You can’t wait around for him to come around, Chrissy.
I can almost hear her sorrowful voice through the text. That Dex won’t be coming around for me anytime soon. That I need to move forward.
Me: I’m not…it’s just…I don’t know.
Sadie: Go out and have fun. Who knows what will happen. Maybe it won’t even be anything.
Me: True
Sadie: Hey, Dex wants you to find happiness. You have to put yourself out there in order to get it.
Her words are true, but the thought of Ryland picking me up at the house and the off chance Dex could be there is enough for me to run to the bathroom.
Me: Maybe I’ll tell him I’ll meet him at the restaurant.
Sadie: NO. Absolutely NOT! He picks you up at the house. We’ll raid my closet when you get home.
Me: I haven’t decided yet…LOL
Sadie: Yes you have. Class is starting, I’ll call you once I get out.
Me: Okay.
I put my phone on the desk and stare at the screen a few more minutes, but it’s Dex’s face occupying my vision. Not wanting to hurt him, but also comprehending I have to move on. It’s been thirty days, and if anything, we’re further apart than before. Just as I’m already coming to my answer, my email dings and a smile confirms my answer.
To: Christine Dawson
From: Ryland Davis
Subject: Nervous
If you’re the assistant I think you are, I’m fairly certain you’ve seen my question. So, will you be my date for dinner tonight?
My hand palms the mouse, my right pointer finger on the clicker. Moving it over, I click reply.
To: Ryland Davis
From: Christine Dawson
RE: Nervous
Yes
I keep it simple, because I don’t have it in me to be funny with my reply. How can my acceptance to his date bring excitement and gut-wrenching pain all in one? I can’t help but feel guilty that I’m using Ryland to forget Dex. What if something comes of me and Ryland, how would I ever tell Dex? Lucky for me, my computer dings immediately so I can stop overanalyzing my decision.
To: Christine Dawson
From: Ryland Davis
RE: RE: Nervous
Huge smile across my face. Casual attire…jeans and a t-shirt.
Reading that he’s smiling, I envision those dimples piercing the heart of every other woman around him at the moment. The fact that they’re displayed because of me has my insides tingling with the excitement.
SIX FORTY-FIVE, and I’m upstairs in Sadie’s bathroom. A hot chunk of my blonde hair falls out of the curling iron alongside my heavily made up face. I’ve never worn this many layers of make-up, and I keep wondering if I took my nail and dug it down my cheek, would a white line of my skin appear?
“Why jeans and t-shirt? I wanted to have you borrow something of mine. You’d think Ryland Davis would take you to a five-star restaurant.”
“I don’t know,” I say, because that low self-esteem surfaces and has me thinking he’d be embarrassed to waste such money on me. Or worse, that I’m not worth spending money on with an elaborate meal.
“I’m sure he has a great date planned though,” she assures me, as if she witnessed my lips turn down with the thought.
“Sadie, I don’t think I can …” I pull my legs up to my chest, my usual defense mechanism to keep others out.
She places the curling iron on the counter and crouches down in front of me, her hand resting on my linked ones. “Listen to me, Chrissy. You can and you will go on this date. Do it for yourself.”
I peek up at her, and her sincerity is palpable. I want to believe her. Believe that someone would want me, but what happens when the one you are certain should be yours, doesn’t feel the same?
“You have to let Dex go. If he can’t see what’s in front of him, or he’s too scared, there’s nothing you can do to change it. Go out with Ryland for no one else but yourself,” she continues and then pats my arm until she pries a smile out of me.
“All right,” I say, and she smiles back at me.
“Good. Now, beautiful, you’re ready for your date.” She unplugs the curling iron and leans her hip on the counter, staring over at me. Waiting for me to see the magic she did on such a plain Jane.
“Oh, Sadie. I want to screw myself,” I joke, and she cracks up.
“Glad you like it. But it’s easy to make beautiful, more beautiful.” Her hand touches my arm, and she leaves the room.
I stare at myself in the mirror, knowing I’m somewhere under the lines and layers of paint. Touching my curls, I admire the look that took an hour to accomplish. My usual is getting out of the shower and tossing my wet hair in a ponytail. On a good day, I do a half blow-dry and a quick touch of eyeliner and mascara and I’m out the door.
Sadie and I stomp downstairs as Dex is just coming out of his room. We both stop, and Sadie ping pongs between the two of us before resorting to the next set of stairs.
All of these wishes that I did this for him swim around in my head. Why won’t he admit to what we both know? “Hi,” I speak first, and he stands there staring at me with his backpack swung around his back.
“Hi,” he replies.
He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a hoodie, since the weather has turned colder the last few weeks. His hat forward like most days lately, concealing his eyes and facial features from prying gaze.
I begin to close the gap toward my room, and he steps up to meet me. With my hand on the doorknob, he comes a few inches away from me, and my heart picks up speed while shivers rise up my back. “You look better without all that shit on your face,” he whispers, and I shake my head and turn his way.
All the warmth that had just spread across my body vanishes, leaving a rush of cold in its departure. “I guess it’s too much to say I look beautiful.” I turn the knob but am unable to push the door open due to my body being right where it wants to be—close to Dex.
“I never said you weren’t beautiful.” He finishes the two steps to the stairs and jogs down them.
“You never said I was,” I whisper to myself in an empty hallway.
Pushing my door open, I shut it behind me, collapsing to the floor with my back against it. Tears prick, desperate to escape my eyes. For some reason, they don’t fall and I wonder am I finally getting rid of Dex Prescott’s hold on me?
Not willing to allow Dex to ruin my date with someone who actually wants my company, I rise to my feet, push my shoulders back and grab my purse. Exiting my room, I walk down the stairs just as Sadie’s opening the door to a very handsome Ryland.
“Hi, Ryland,” Sadie greets him, and, when he enters through the doorway, I’m glad I took Sadie’s advice.
A slow smile creeps across Ryland’s lips when he spots me on the stairs. Stopping briefly, I admire him. The nice, barely worn jeans, casual Western t-shirt untucked with a pair of slip-on canvas shoes. His sunglasses rest in his wavy dark strands while his finger is wrapped in his key ring.
“Have a good time, you two.” Sadie dismisses herself, and I give her a small wave.
“Bye, Sadie. Nice seeing you again.” Ryland’s polite demeanor shines through.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, he links my hand in his. “You make every other woman doubt themselves,” he compliments me, it’s so much more than merely saying beautiful or gorgeous.
“Thank you.” A slow heat rises up my neck. His kind words reiterate that Dex may not be the one for me anymore.
“Let’s get out of here.” He puts his elbow out for me, and I wrap my arm through it.
I’m not one step down the stoop when a familiar sensation of someone watching me prompts me to look around. My teeth slide on my over lip glossed lip when they catch Dex’s eyes fixated on me from his truck that’s resting idle in the middle of the street. My arm relaxes, drooping in Ryland’s arm hold. Even though he’s yards away, his eyes are wrenched with dejection right before they smolder with rage.
Ryland looks my way and back to the truck at the same time Dex’s tires squeal. The truck peels down the street, not even bothering to break at the stop sign. “Am I missing something?” Ryland turns back to me after Dex’s taillights disappear.
I deflect the loaded question, because how am I supposed to answer that? Oh, that’s just the guy I wish my arm was entwined with, but, hey, he doesn’t want me, so I’m trying to allow you to make me forget. Probably not a very pleasant first date conversation.
Instead, I smile and pat his hand with my free hand. “He’s just having a bad day.” I try to force my voice to sound nonchalant, not to release the small notes of anguish.
FIVE MINUTES LATER, we pull into another driveway in a residential area. A house not as big as the Carsens’, but just as nice. Flowers planted in the front along a laid brick sidewalk up to a door with a silver knocker inscribed The Davis’. Curiosity if I’m about to walk into his parents’ house from the whole aura of family etched in every personal touch from the potted plants to the small white fence lining the yard.
The gut feeling that there’s more to Ryland than I know increases when I step into the newly remodeled house. My feet step on almost-black wood floors with hues of blues, silvers, and white on the walls and fabrics lining the furniture.
“Please, come in. I was thinking I’d cook for you.” He shrugs his shoulders lowly as though he’s asking permission. Little does he realize there’s no need to impress me. He could have taken me back to that restaurant Filgree’s, and it would have been my best ‘date’ ever.
“Sounds great.” I press on with a cheerful voice that strains every time I speak.
My mind tainted with images of Dex speeding down the streets of Western, maybe he jumped onto the highway to press the accelerator to the max. What if he’s punching something or someone? I’ve been witness to his rage too many times for me to think otherwise.
A part of me is relieved that Ryland being with me inspired the reaction it did. Confirms to me that I’m not alone in this draw to one another. The fire that singes me from the smallest touch or the warm beating of home when his arms swarm me into his body.
Ryland places a glass in front of me filled with red wine. I’m not a huge wine drinker and have no idea between the different kinds. Merlot and Cabernet are the extent of my knowledge, and if I was asked the difference, I wouldn’t be able to answer. Smiling, I bring the glass to my lips, and the strong aroma pushes me to shut off my sense of smell while I drink. I take a tentative sip while Ryland consumes his all while intently watching me for my reaction.
“Do you like it?” he asks, and I nod my head, plastering a fake smile.
Once I swallow, I wouldn’t mind a sip of water, but I grin over to him, assuring him I do.
Pulling fish out of the fridge, with a lemon on top, I admire his skills in the kitchen. Expertly, he cuts the fish open, whose eyeballs I swear are inspecting me the entire time. Taking some seasoning, he douses a hefty amount of green herbs in the slit he cut and then carries the fish to the stove.
I admire his muscular back. His t-shirt pulls across his shoulders as it tapers down to jeans that appear new, as if he purchased them today. Crossing my legs, I lean forward on my stool, elbows resting on the island in the middle of the room. His kitchen is just as perfect as the rest of the house. Stainless steel appliances and white cabinets with black marble counters. You’d think I’d arrived on the set of a home interior magazine shoot with how beautifully decorated this house is.
Tossing a glance over his shoulder, he begins the conversation. “So, tell me something about you I don’t know.” I’m glad his back is to me, because I begin to fidget while racking my brain to figure something to share that’s not pitiful.
“There’s not much.” I stall.
Taking another peek, he smirks. “If you went to school, what would you have liked to do?” he asks, and luckily, that’s an easy one for me.
“I would love to be a school counselor,” I answer. “Junior High level,” I clarify.
“Why that age? All those hormones going crazy, drama. I hated those years,” he comments, and I laugh, remembering how much I needed someone at that time rushes to mind, wishing my mom wouldn’t have deserted me. The confusion of what a girl’s body is going through and the security they desperately craved. So many girls I saw gave into temptation from a boy’s peer pressure or the pressure of her friends.
“Adolescence is so confusing and exciting at the same time. In my mind, it’s the most crucial time for development on who you’ll be when you grow up.” I’m not sure I’ve ever revealed that to anyone before.
He twists his attention my way, and his strong hand grips his glass, bringing it to his lips. I watch as he opens slightly and the fluid streams in and he licks his lips right after, enjoying every drop. One side of his lips turns up slightly, and he leans across the counter, his body weight on his forearms crossed in front of him. “I’m pretty sure if I was a thirteen-year-old boy, I’d want you to be my counselor. You do realize what swarms in a boys mind at that age?” He winks, and I giggle, rolling my eyes.
“Sex, sex, sex,” I kid, and he nods.
“I swear, I think I only identified girls by their developed chests, ass, or legs at that age. The face was second,” he jokes.
“Third or fourth,” I add, and he laughs harder.
“About right.” He nods in humored agreement.
When he finishes preparing our meal, I help him carry everything to the table, and I sit down while he lights the candles. It’s the most romantic evening I’ve ever experienced. I eat the fish, asparagus, and salad, dotting my lips with the cloth napkin after every bite. Our conversation is light, humorous, and casual throughout dinner. Dex remains in a distant corner of my mind, but it hurts that Ryland was able to so easily occupy me. Does that mean my feelings are waning for Dex? Guilt began to form by the time dessert makes its way to the table, when a flash of my life here, in this house, with Ryland becomes visible in my mind. Dismayed that, for the first time, when I imagined my future, Dex wasn’t the one sitting across from me at the dinner table.
I oblige in the dessert that Ryland shamefully divulged he bought instead of preparing. As if that would blemish our date in some way. We sit on his couch with a roaring fire in the gas fireplace, talking about his childhood. How different of a person he’s become than his parents. With no pictures adorning the walls or propped on the mantle, I have no one to picture, except for my imagination of how he describes them.
Two hours later, my cheeks are sore from laughing at Ryland’s funny stories. It’s been a nice reprieve from the weeks of Dex overriding my thoughts. His sleek white car turns into the driveway and stops at the sidewalk that paves the way to the front door. A relieved breath leaves my lungs when Dex’s truck is parked behind Brady’s Camaro. He didn’t wrap it around a pole in an uncontrolled anger rage.
My lungs constrict again, desperately wishing it wouldn’t have released that amount of air. Dex stands in the garage, leaning over my car with his head facing the driveway. Rob glances over, the unfamiliar car’s headlights grabbing his attention, causing the tightness in my chest to deepen. When Ryland exits his side, I watch the two guys stand to attention and walk to the edge of the opening and my stomach weighs down like a ten-pound weight just landed on it. From the passenger seat, I silently beg to whoever is listening that the awkwardness that’s unfolding will end soon. Ryland raises his hand in the air in the form of a greeting with no response except a nod from Rob because Dex’s eyes are glued to mine, unnerving me with guilt.
Ryland opens my door, holding his hand out for me to take. My hand grips his as he helps me climb out of his car. I divert all of my attention away from the two in the garage as Ryland links his fingers around mine. Now comes the weird part, kiss or no kiss? Is Dex going to be peeking around the corner, or Sadie in the window? Maybe Ryland doesn’t even want to end our date with any intimacy.
At the welcome mat, we turn to face one another. “I had a really nice time, thank you.” I speak first.
“I did, too. I’m glad you accepted.” He releases my hand, but cradles my cheek in his palm. A small flutter begins, but the thought of Dex just around the corner squashes them immediately. Why are feelings of betrayal washing over me when I did nothing of the sort? “Can I take you out again?” He steps forward, our chests brushing along one another.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Next Saturday. Dress required.” He smiles, enticing my own to come out.
“Okay,” I accept.
He begins leaning close and my heart picks up pace a little, but he detours just as I’m about to close my eyes and wait for his moist lips to grace mine. “I’d kiss you, but I feel like we’re being watched. This will have to do until next week.” His lips press against my cheek and he backs up. “See you Monday.” He winks and then descends the steps to walk down the sidewalk to his car.
After I wave to Ryland, I turn the knob and step inside, shutting the door behind me. Releasing a tense breath that Dex didn’t barrel down the driveway, hauling off and hitting Ryland, I double-time it up the stairs to the solitude of my room. Tossing my body on the bed, it bounces up, and I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to compartmentalize Dex and Ryland in my brain. Ryland is so great and I wish I could demand my heart to veer to him, but hard as I might try, Dex’s hurt face standing in the garage is all my mind envisions.
