Bellissimo Rilascio (Beautiful Release): The Family Series #3 (13 page)

“Are you better?”

She cocks her head to the side and comes back to the couch. I don’t know how to process this. Every instinct is to lecture her, watch her every minute, and protect her, but I know that isn’t what she needs. “Yes. I’m not saying the urge isn’t there when I get overwhelmed or I
process
as Doc calls it. It’s hard to explain because I wasn’t a cutter or self-harmer, but that night when I figured out it allowed me a false sense of release of my emotions. It became something I craved because there were moments in therapy, with my family and reliving each transgression, I wanted to slice my skin. I wanted to feel the peace that comes with the pain. I had to cut my fingernails because I would dig them in my palm subconsciously.”

“You still want to hurt yourself?”

“Sometimes. I use it as a tool. Obviously not a healthy one, but it’s like it replaces the pain inside of me. Hence, the therapy. Endless hours of therapy.”

All I feel is regret.

I regret leaving that day.

I regret not being there for her every day since.

I regret not being able to protect her.

I’ll never make it up to her, and I want to place her in a bubble and kill anyone who tries to pop it. She could revert to this at anytime, and I’m helpless to stop it.

“Heath, I see everything you’re thinking. Stop worrying. Worrying will end us faster than anything. I can’t change my past; you can’t blame yourself, just like I can’t carry the burden of everyone’s feelings. I did it. I own it, and I’m in the healing stage. It’s like an addiction; even if it’s out of your life, you still have the urge to sample it. I’ll fight it, I’ll talk through it, but I can’t change that it’s there. Is this something you can handle?”

“It’s a part of you, therefore a part of me. I can’t help feeling remorse for not being there. I think a part of me believes that I could have fixed it.”

“You can’t fix me. I’m stronger now and will keep working to get where I need to be. When that day comes, I’ll keep working to stay there.”

“You’ve always been one of the strongest people I know. Determined. Focused. Selfless. You’re everything to me. Promise me if it becomes too much, you’ll talk to me.”

“I promise.”

“I think we’ve had enough for tonight. Lets go to bed.” I sweep her off the couch and cradle her as close to me as I can get her.

“Hold me tonight.”

“Tonight and every night you give me the chance.” Her exposure tonight, craving my touch, my arms around her, showed me a side of her I’ve always wanted. I feel completely wanted and loved in this moment. Pulling the covers back, I settle us both in the bed, and my arms never let go. All night I felt her heartbeat in sync with mine, her breath against my chest, her peacefulness filling the empty place inside of me that’s been waiting for her.

Chapter Seventeen

Bianca

I don’t know what I expected from him, but all I got was acceptance. Complete adoration. His eyes would change from bright, glassy-like to aversion. He was struggling with his own emotions, but in the end, he reached out, stared at me with a wide smile, and held me close all night. I hated to bring everything up from that night. Telling him the aspects involving Dakota hurt both of us, but now it’s in the open and not an anchor weighing us down.

Funny, I thought I’d be timid with him; it’s been almost a year, and I left a lot of debris when I imploded. Seeing his face, hearing his voice, feeling his touch set me at ease. A luxury I hadn’t had in a while, if ever. I had always been battling something within myself, but with Heath, I can lay it all at his feet and he takes my burdens, making me feel weightless.

No judgment.

No ridicule.

Only approval. I wasn’t seeking it. I’m the only one who can determine what works for me . . . he gave it to me anyway. Hearing he got involved with the Costa family I was ready to flee; turned my back ready to flee until I remembered what I was here for, what I was fighting for. I’ve brought myself back from the brink of darkness, but he’s been my light throughout it. Some days it was just a glimmer, a shard of light through the storm clouds but just like his love, it was always constant.

Completeness.

All the components are here.

Love.

Loyalty.

Want.

Desire.

Trust.

Future.

We’ve had an ending. Now beginning again is bringing us full-circle.

A second chance.

I’ve been up for a few minutes, savoring his arms holding me, his scent cocooning me, his hand creating an intricate design on my back, soothing . . . loving. “Where’s my coffee?”

“If you’d release your spider monkey-like grip on me, I can go start it.”

“Hmph. I don’t want that crap from last night. Can’t you run to Starbucks?” I am completely aware my voice is whiny, bordering on nasally, but I don’t care.

“I could, but I don’t want to leave you.”

“I can promise if I don’t have coffee in the next twenty minutes you’ll be running for the hills.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“No, but my alter ego Bertha will. She’s a rabid bitch who craves caffeine. It’s her lifeline.”

He chuckles, “Bertha, huh? Where the hell do you come up with this shit, Bianca?”

“My snark is a natural talent. One can try to recreate it, but they will fail. I’m the master.”

“I’m well aware of that. I’ll go get you Starbucks, you get in the shower, then we can hit the grocery store.”

I gasp. “You’re leaving the house before showering? Has hell frozen over?” He is a stickler for showering, shaving, and dressing before stepping foot in the living room.

“Smart ass. Do you want coffee?”

“Do you want to live?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact that’s at the top of my to-do list. So untangle yourself from me, and I’ll go get coffee. Keep it up, and I’ll have them pump some pumpkin flavor in it.”

I narrow my eyes, scanning the room for something to hit him with. One does not joke in regards to the seriousness of my aversion to all things pumpkin. I give Callie a hard time, but only because she shares in my hatred. “Blasphemy.”

“Give me a kiss, hit the shower, and your coffee will get here faster.” I make quick work of moving off of him, as much as it sucks. I peck his lips and hurry to the bathroom.

After a quick shower with his sub-par shampoo and conditioner, I’m attempting to untangle my hair when I get a brilliant idea. Let’s face it . . . most of my ideas are. I know Callie would have a different opinion, but she would love this one. Running the comb quickly through my hair, I make quick work of drying it. I stare at all his products, then look under the sink. Just as I expected. Most men I know keep baby powder for shaving nicks.

I emerge from the bathroom with my innocent face set in stone. He is walking in the door with my latte, and it’s like I hear angels singing. Seriously. “Thanks.”

“Take a sip and back away slowly.” I smile behind the cup at his playful side. Then I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the impending laughter.

“I didn’t put up your blow dryer. Go get in the shower so we can get going.”

“In a rush?”

“Yes. I’m commando because I didn’t bring my bag in last night, and the sooner we leave here, the sooner we get back and make plans for Mexico. I do remember a tropical vacation being promised last night.”

“Killing me, woman. I’ll hurry.”

As soon as he disappears into the bathroom, I text Callie.

ME: All is good. I was well-received.

CALLIE: You better have more than that for me.

ME: I’ll call later. I’m sending a video shortly.

CALLIE: Ewwww. I’ll pass on your porn video. Some things I just shouldn’t see.

ME: Shut up. Hasn’t happened, but I’m hoping for some face down ass up action later.

CALLIE: I hate you.

ME: No you don’t. Wait for it.

I hear the water still running, so I savor a few sips of my coffee. I’m chuckling before it’s even happened. I’m not worried. I know he’ll find the humor in it . . . eventually.

I hear the water turn off, I pull up my video app and walk slowly towards the bathroom. He’s pulling his shirt down when I walk in. “Better?” He nods to the cup I’m caressing.

“Much.” I watch his fingers run through his hair, giving it that tousled, just-fucked look that I love. After he puts some gel in, I’m on pins and needles. I’m such an adolescent, but he did this to himself. I watch him pick up the blow dryer, and it all happens in slow motion. I quickly look down at my phone, acting like I’m texting, but click the video button to start recording. Dryer lifted over face, aimed at the front of his hair. His finger hovers over the button to start it, and when he presses it . . . I don’t have words.

The white powder covering every inch of his face, his shirt and the bathroom counter is too much. I’m barely able to hold onto the phone, and I know it’s shaking from my laughter. Tears stream down my face, but this time they’re good tears. His mouth is gaping open; he hasn’t looked at me just staring in the mirror. In between pants of laughter, I manage to grab his attention. Holding his eyes, I muster the most serious voice I can at the moment. “Don’t ever threaten me with pumpkin again.” I lean down and grab the empty bottle of baby powder and chuck it at him before running out of the bathroom. I hear the shower start . . . for the second time, and I send Callie the video.

CALLIE: OMG. Dying. You didn’t.

ME: I did. He threatened pumpkin flavor in my coffee.

CALLIE: And that’s all he got?

ME: I’m feeling generous today. Too much work to clean up blood and hide a body when I’m happy.

CALLIE: What’d he say?

ME: Not a word. He got back in the shower.

CALLIE: I can’t wait to hear this.

ME: It was funny.

CALLIE: I know. I saw.

Again the water shuts off, and before long Heath comes sauntering out in the living room, dressed with his hair . . . wet. I lose it once more. I look up in time to see the glint in his eye that promises retribution, but I don’t care. Every bad thing I’ve done. Every obstacle I’ve endured. Every ounce of pain I’ve felt has all been worth it for this one moment. Us.

“Payback’s a bitch, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He grabs my waist and pulls me to him. Not a bit of space separates us, and our eyes meet. Our lips. He pulls back too soon and drags me to the grocery store.

This is normal.

This is healthy.

This is happy.

This is what I’ve been missing.

Chapter Eighteen

Dakota

I swung the door open hoping to see Lisa’s face staring back at me. I’d beg her to listen; let me explain it better. My relationship with Bianca isn’t a topic that can be glossed over. Our story was in-depth, spans many years, and includes our youth and adulthood. We aren’t all wrapped up and tied with a neat bow, and although she begged me that night to let her go, I didn’t. Because of my selfishness, she wound up in the hospital. Fragile. Like the spun glass she swore she wasn’t.

I had guilt.

I had loss.

I had said good-bye.

Just too late…for her and nearly myself. I left, and for so many nights, I looked back. Dreamt. The future that was so clear with her faded in time and allowed me to open up to Lisa. I’m not sure what that means but I’d like a damn chance to explain it.

Instead I’m staring at my partner for this case. “What the fuck, Daniel?”

“We got a tip. A big one. Tried to call several times, but you didn’t answer.”

I switched my phone off to avoid distractions, now my biggest one was here. Work. “Can this wait until tomorrow?”

“Nope. Informant is hot to talk and running scared. We don’t get what we need now, she could disappear.” I reluctantly grab my wallet and keys to follow him.

“I’ll meet you at the office. Give me ten minutes.” He nodded. I walked out of my apartment straight to her door. It’s been an hour since she left, and her apartment is dark. I ring the bell, knock on the door, and I’m met with silence. I get to the parking lot and see why. Her car isn’t here. She’s gone. Angry and confused. I can’t do this again.

Countless hours at the office leave me tired, hungry, and overall grumpy. I try her door again, even though I know I won’t get a response. Her car still isn’t here. She graduates tonight, and there isn’t even a ceremony because it’s mid-semester and informal. She was just waiting to get her clinical hours so she could get her diploma. A few exams and she was done. Kind of like us. I drag myself through my door and my body hits the mattress. I don’t have the strength to undress. Grabbing my phone, I see I still have no notifications. I scroll and dial.

“Ready to come home?” I miss this camaraderie.

“Yesterday I would have told you no, but today I’m feeling more than ready.”

“Pansy ass. Is the work so stressful there?”