Actual Stop (16 page)

“So you do still love her.” The statement was forced, and she choked on it a little.

I sighed heavily and sank back into the cushions of the couch, then tilted my head back and briefly passed my hands over my eyes. God, I wished I were better at this lying thing. However, that I wasn’t was telling in and of itself. I could lie all day to people I didn’t give a damn about. One look from Lucia, and I crumbled, blurting out the truth.

“I honestly don’t know. I think maybe I love who she was to me, if that makes any sense. Isn’t it always like that with your first love?”

“She was your first?”

I nodded, even though the question had been rhetorical and Lucia wasn’t even looking at me.

“She left you, then.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I winced. “It’s a long story.”

A caustic laugh escaped her lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The request unsettled me. I wasn’t sure whether it bothered me more that she was asking or that it would hurt to tell it. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over.”

“You don’t think I have a right to know?”

Annoyance flashed white hot behind my eyes, and I clenched my teeth. “No one has ‘the right’ to that story. It was between Allison and me. No one else. And it’s finished.”

“I just want to know what she did that broke you. What was so bad that I wasn’t enough to mend.”

I looked away, clenching my jaw and glaring at the far window. My hands trembled. She didn’t understand anything at all. Not if that’s what she thought. Because she
was
enough to mend me, as much as I was capable of being mended. But she wanted me free of any and all emotional baggage, and that simply wasn’t realistic. Not at this stage. We were both way too old for that to be a possibility.

I opened my mouth to tell her so, but before I could get a word out, Lucia rushed on, cutting me off. Again.

“That’s what she did, you know. She wrecked you, and then she threw you away just like a child does with a toy that no longer holds her interest. And you know what? I don’t know if you can ever be fixed. You’re fucked up, Ryan.”

The undercurrent of her words was sharp, borderline cruel. I’d never heard her speak with such disdain before. That alone jarred me and set me on edge, but the words themselves would leave permanent scars. I wanted to fight back yet run away.

“That’s not true.” My voice was a harsh rasp, but she’d expressed my greatest fear. I’d always secretly worried that maybe something was wrong with me. And now she was confirming it.

A cynical laugh bubbled up from inside her, and I winced. “Isn’t it? You’re detached, Ryan. You talk a good game and act like you feel things, but nothing touches you. At least not the things that should. You won’t let them. Instead, you prefer to make people fall in love with you yet continue to feel nothing for them. You get validation without any risk to your own heart. You’re cold, and you’re heartless, and no one else matters to you but you.”

I shook my head. She was hurt because she thought I loved someone else, and that defense mechanism of alchemizing pain into anger was prompting her to say these things. The animalistic response to lash out when injured was causing her to look for my weaknesses and press on them hard. She didn’t really want to wound me and would regret her words eventually. I knew these things, but her statements still stung.

I wanted to start swinging back. I was hurt now, too, and infuriated and resentful. I wished I could tear into her, cutting fast and deep, leaving her bleeding. I wanted to injure her for saying those things to me. For deliberately being cruel. For making me question myself. Or maybe for giving me the answers to questions I’d always been afraid to ask.

“I don’t know how you can even say that to me after everything we’ve shared.” Normally, I’d have grimaced at the naked emotion in my tone, but at the moment, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know she’d upset me. That’d obviously been her goal. I should at least reward her efforts. “And I think if you reflect on our relationship, you’ll see you’re mistaken.”

My voice was deliberately low and even, and it took a considerable effort to keep it that way, as well as to not utter more severe words to her. I didn’t feel I deserved her anger or her successful attempts to wound me, but she didn’t deserve for me to retaliate. However, my control was slipping, and if this didn’t end soon, I might lash out at her, regardless. And I didn’t have room in my already overcrowded head or heart for any more guilt or remorse.

Lucia stared at me for a long time with the oddest expression. I couldn’t even begin to put a name to the emotion flickering in her eyes, though I tried.

“What do you want from me, Luce? Do you want me to lie? Pretend there was nothing and no one before I met you? That’s unrealistic, and I won’t do it. I can’t feel exactly what you want me to feel, exactly the way you want me to feel it. No one can because everyone is different, and it’s unfair of you to hold your yardstick up to my emotions. All I can do is feel what I feel and treat you the best I know how. I was always under the impression that I’d done that, but clearly I was wrong. So tell me what you want from me. Just say the word, and it’s yours.”

Lucia snatched her cell phone off the table and stood, staring down at me. An eternity lapsed before she finally spoke, and when she did, the jumble of emotions in her tone brought me to tears.

“Nothing, Ryan. Absolutely nothing.”

“Whoa. What the hell happened to you?” Allison said when I arrived at her hotel room bright and early the next morning to pick her up for breakfast.

“Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine.”

“You look like shit, Ryan.”

I rolled my eyes. But how could I argue with her? Okay, perhaps she could’ve been a bit less direct, but I couldn’t begrudge her the opinion. Not when she was right.

Needless to say, I’d gotten zero sleep the night before, which, by my calculations, brought my grand sleep total for the past forty-eight hours somewhere close to negative three hours. Of course, I was using the new math. And boy did it show. The sleep thing, not the math. The makeup I’d so painstakingly applied that morning had done little to conceal the dark circles under my eyes, my hair had been less cooperative than usual, and I had a defeated, lackluster air about me that made my reflection virtually unrecognizable.

Allison, naturally, looked stunning. Breathtakingly, mouthwateringly gorgeous. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle or a smudge anywhere to be seen. She was flawless, as usual. I sort of hated her for that.

“Aw, thanks, Allison. You always say the sweetest things.”

She eyed me curiously as she motioned for me to follow her inside. “Do me a favor and tell your girl to let you get some shut-eye tonight, okay? I mean, I know how totally sexy you are, and I can’t blame the woman for not being able to keep her hands off you, but you can’t show up on game day looking like this. You’re a mess.”

When I was a teenager, I’d taken a soccer ball to the gut once during a pickup game. It’d been kicked hard by one of the older boys and had hit me squarely. I’d saved the point since my body had stopped the goal, but it’d knocked the wind out of me, and I’d spent several long minutes on my hands and knees on the field, trying to force my lungs to inhale and being unable to make my body comply. Allison’s words had a similar effect.

A heavy silence hung in the space between us, and I turned my back on her, blinking furiously, trying to keep the tears from my eyes. She’d only been joking. I knew that. But the jest hit a tad closer to home than my already-raw nerves were prepared to handle. I took a deep, shuddering breath and rested my forehead and one palm against the glass of the window, relishing its cool, smooth texture. I closed my eyes, grateful that Allison was otherwise occupied at the moment.

A hand on my shoulder startled me, but I didn’t turn around. Instead, I silently cursed my own distraction and tried to scrape together the last vestiges of my game face and slap it on before she was any wiser.

“Hey.” Allison’s voice was soft in my ear, the tone so tender I wanted to sob. Like I needed another reason at this point. “You okay?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and swallowed with effort. The lump that’d taken up permanent residence in my throat a few hours earlier felt as though it might actually be growing. It went nicely with the huge weight that’d settled in my chest where my heart used to be and the churning nausea that was making me regret my earlier demand for chocolate-chip pancakes.

Allison’s hand pushed lightly in an effort to turn me around, and I resisted, but only for a bit. I may’ve been stubborn, but in Allison I’d met my match. She just kept nudging until I finally relented. I faced her with my chin to my chest and my eyes downcast, which I’d thought was a great plan. Right up until she cupped my chin in her other hand and tilted it up so she could meet my gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

The concern and worry marring her perfect features tore at me, and I nearly collapsed under the onslaught of a completely new stab of guilt. The tears threatened to come again, and I bit my lower lip. Lucia had been wrong. I wasn’t heartless. I couldn’t possibly be in this much pain if I was. Too bad she wasn’t here to see it.

I stroked Allison’s cheek with the palm of my hand, and the warmth of her skin dispelled the cold left by the glass. I opened my mouth, but only a weary sigh escaped. I shook my head.

Curiosity flickered in her eyes, but all she said was, “Come here,” as she tugged me into a soothing hug.

I wanted to fight it, fight her. I didn’t want her to see me when I was weak, and I sure as hell didn’t want to need comforting, especially not from the first woman who’d broken my heart. But her scent was too intoxicating, her warmth too inviting, and my need too great. I gratefully gave in.

I sank into her arms and wrapped my own around her, pulling her tight to my body. I soaked up her presence the way a flower soaks up the sun and drew comfort from the embrace. I took as much solace from the gesture as I possibly could and garnered the strength necessary to face the day, despite the new cracks to my battered heart. The hug lasted a lot longer than it probably should’ve, but I was raw and aching and, frankly, it gave me the consolation I required. It was only when I’d started to become more aware of her body and the old lingering pangs of arousal started clamoring in the back of my head that I let go.

I cleared my throat as I stepped back, thoroughly embarrassed, and swiped at my cheeks hastily to remove any traces of tears. My gaze flitted to her and then skittered away, and I licked my lips, suddenly nervous.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Not a problem.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

I shrugged and chanced a glance at her. I’d been expecting…I don’t really know what I’d been expecting. Amusement, maybe? Mischief? I wasn’t sure. But I did know it wasn’t this sympathetic expression. It might’ve been easier for me if she’d made fun of me. I would’ve had a better idea how to respond.

“It was a rough night. You about ready to go?” I made a move toward the door, but she grabbed my arm.

“Hang on there, speed racer. Not until you tell me what the hell that was all about.”

“It was nothing. Can we go? We won’t have time for pancakes if we don’t get a move on.” I wouldn’t be able to get through telling her what’d happened with Lucia without breaking down again, and we definitely didn’t have time for that. Besides, if she thought I looked like a mess now, she really didn’t want to see me after that.

The muscles in Allison’s jaw tensed, and she folded her arms across her chest as she stared at me. Deliberately and without once breaking eye contact, she slowly lowered herself so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She crossed one leg over the other and waited, her posture as indicative as her expression that we weren’t going anywhere until I bared my soul.

After a flash of misplaced irritation I threw up my hands. “Jesus, will you just drop it? Come on. We’ve got shit to do. I’m not in the fucking mood for this.”

Okay, I’ll admit, that was much. Like, completely, totally, over-the-line much. She was merely expressing concern. I had no right to bite her head off. I regretted my outburst immediately but for some reason couldn’t bring myself to actually speak the words of apology she deserved. I did, however, place trembling fingers over my lips.

Here’s where I’ll give Allison credit for her skills at controlling her temper and knowing exactly how to handle me. While other people might’ve snapped right back and told me to go fuck myself, she merely cocked her head slightly and looked at me for a long moment. Her stern glare was penetrating enough that I flushed and dropped my eyes first.

“Are you finished?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” She held one hand up and extended her index finger. “First, I’m only trying to help, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t yell at me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Allison nodded once, but she clearly wasn’t through. She held up another finger. “Second, I will thank you to watch your fucking mouth when you’re in my presence. I won’t take any more goddamn blasphemy from you.”

A small smile threatened to break out across my lips, spurred on by the seriousness of her expression. I dipped my head. “Done.”

“And, third, there is always time for chocolate-chip pancakes.”

At that, I laughed and held out my hand to her as though to help her up. She took it and accepted my assistance even though we both knew she didn’t really need it. It was my way of apologizing and her way of accepting.

“You’re right. What the hell was I thinking?”

“I’m leaning toward temporary insanity.” Allison flashed me a grin over her shoulder as she made her way back to the bathroom. She clattered around in there for a few minutes, affording me ample time to clean myself up and fix my own makeup in the mirror over the desk. By the time she emerged, we’d both cooled off, and the atmosphere between us had a much more bearable weight.

“Just tell me this much,” Allison said as she slid into her suit jacket. “Is Lucia okay?”