Breaking Elle (53 page)

I meet his eyes as he gently pushes pieces of wet hair away from my face. His fingers float over my cheek, sending waves of warmth coursing through my body. I look towards the track, wondering how we ended up so far apart from each other. He takes my chin in his hand turning me to face him, and I don’t fight it. I look into those soft brown eyes then down to his lips that used to bring me so much pleasure.

“How did you know I was here?” I whisper, dropping my eyes, reminding myself that we’re over. I can’t go back, no matter how comfortable the memories are. He studies my face for a few seconds before he speaks.

“Jace called me. He said you were upset when you left. He was worried, and he asked me to come find you.” He pauses, dropping his hand from my chin, and rubbing the back of his neck. “I knew you’d be here.” He looks away, staring out over the track and turns back to me. “
I knew
,”
he whispers.

“Course.” I smile, trying to make the torment leave his eyes. Here I am. I need my absent boyfriend to comfort me, but my ex that I’m not quite over is who’s here. It’s then that I know I will always love him. My feelings for him haven’t faded. I knew they wouldn’t. He still means so much to me. He frowns, picking at the wet grass as the rain has weakened to a drizzle. “What’s wrong?” I ask. It takes a couple of minutes for him to look at me.

“I’m not over you, and I haven’t given up on us,” he murmurs. “When I saw you earlier with Tyler, I missed that. That used to be us. I was jealous.”

Okay, I did not just hear that. Did this just get more complicated
for me
? I watch the rain slide down his chest and the muscles in his bicep flex from him picking at the grass. He looks like a little boy that’s been scolded for doing something wrong. I just want to wrap my arms around him and tell him everything will be okay.

“What are you talking about?”
I know what he’s talking about. I just had to say it out loud.
I press my lips into a tight, thin line, and look down at my lap to avoid his eyes.

“I want
us
back,” he whispers. The desperation in his voice is tangible. “I’m stumbling in the dark without you.”

“Cane, we talked about this.” I’m too weak to deal with this right now. I make a move to get up, but I’m not sure I want to leave. Part of me wants to hear what he has to say. As I watch him, the same look in his eye from the night he betrayed me, the night I said it was over appears. It yanks at my heart.

“Don’t leave. Hear me out.” He sighs deeply. “I deserved what you said to me that night. I hurt you, and I regret that every day that I’m without you. I walked away so easily. I just
couldn’t
look at you that night knowing that I was the one that put the pain in your eyes, that I broke your heart. Every time I see you, I’m reminded of it. I thought I could move past it because I thought I could let go for you. It’s what you wanted.” He reaches and takes my hand in his, and I don’t resist. I remember every word I said to him, and all the sadness and regret in his eyes. “My mind was all over the place. The idea of losing you killed me. I thought walking away like that was the best thing to do since I was the one that fucked up. But I should’ve held my ground. I should have spoken up that night.”

“I saw... you.
With her
.” I close my eyes and wrap my knees to my chest. “You don’t understand what that did to me, Cane. You
stumbled
for the second time. You can’t take it back.”

“I let you down, I know that.” He breathes heavily and touches my hand. “But you gave up on us so fast. You moved on with this Reed guy like we never existed.” I can see that he’s crying, and the thing inside me is cracking. His pain and suffering awakens something in me that I haven’t felt before. I want to protect him. I want to heal him, but not the way that he wants.

“No... No Cane.” I shake my head. “I didn’t. I never wanted to...” My voice trembles as I remember the times he betrayed me. “
You
did this. You
know
what I went through and how I struggle with my emotions. It’s just as hard for me. Two years is a long time. So many things remind me of you.”

“It was just a fucking kiss.” He murmurs, jamming his hands through his wet hair. “A kiss that didn’t mean shit from someone who didn’t mean shit to me.”

My heart drops listening to him, but I can’t say what he wants to hear. He slides in front of me so that we’re inches apart. Pushing my hair back, he takes my face in his hands and wipes my tears away with his thumbs.

“You know I love you.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. His warm breath floats around my face, his masculine scent fills my senses, and the rain wraps us in the moment. I get lightheaded, and close my eyes. My memories with him come back in vivid flashes. I wonder how many more of my emotions will be tested. He caresses my cheek. I feel his lips brush against mine, and I ever so slightly pull away.

“I miss this,” he murmurs huskily over my mouth.

“Cane, stop. This can’t happen,” I whisper, placing my hand on his arm as I pull away. I cover my face with my hands and shake my head. Lifting my eyes, I gauge his reaction, not wanting to hurt him. “Cane, you meant everything to me, but I don’t know how many times I can tell you... we can’t go back.”

“I didn’t think it would be this hard for me,” he says looking directly into my eyes. “And I didn’t think it would be this easy for you.”

“It’s not easy. It will never be easy,” I whisper. The tears streaming down my face are lost in the rain.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

My phone that I strapped to my arm vibrates. I can’t make myself answer it, so confused by what’s happening. But it could be Reed. I glance at the screen and my heart jumps when I see that it is. Anxious to hear his voice again, I answer. Cane scowls, folding his arms across his chest, noticing the small pained smile that passes my lips.

“Hello?” I reply, fighting back the tremor in my voice from crying.

“Elle?” I blink, confused by the voice on the other end of the line coming from Reed’s phone. It’s not Reed. A cold chill instantly attacks my body, my heart.

“Yes.” I pause. “Who is this?” I ask, clutching my knees to my chest.

“I’m Tommy, Reed’s friend. You might know me.” His voice is winded and frantic, and I start to worry that much more. I hear the slamming of a door in the background.

“No, No. I don’t. Reed’s never mentioned you,” I reply.
He doesn’t talk much about anything that happened about his life. His secrets, his past.

He clears his throat and asks, “Have you talked to him?” I put my hand against my throat, afraid it’s about to explode.

“Not since last night. Is everything okay?” I start to get this sinking feeling that something is not right.

“I don’t know how much you know or how long you’ve known Reed, but he has some history here in Texas that may have caught up with him.” He sighs. I can hear the sound of a creaking bed as though he just sat down. “He never told you anything, did he?”

“No,” I whisper hoarsely. Fear seems to crawl up my spine and rest in my chest, thinking about the money in his drawer. The conversation the other night when he said we needed to talk. Was this what he was referring to? My hands start to shake and my body goes numb as I wonder where he could be, if he’s safe. I am not mentally prepared for this. “Do you... you know where he might be?” I stammer. If his friend does not know where he is, then where can he be? The silence on the other end of the phone only confirms that he has no idea what happened to Reed.

“Well, where is he?” I ask the question anyway. I lean my head on Cane’s shoulder, and he pulls me closer.

“I don’t know, but I think something bad could have happened to him.”

“Why do you think that?” I feel like I’m floating. It’s like being in my dreams, more like a nightmare where I float above, watching but not able to control anything that is happening. I’m starting to question if the voice on the other end is real, or if I’m imagining all of this.

“He tried to call me.” He pauses, “I heard him. He was fighting with someone tonight here in his room. I heard it all. That’s how I knew to come back here to his room.”

“What kind of trouble do you think he’s in?” I raise my voice. I grip the phone tightly, stand up, and pace back and forth on the grass. Cane gets up and steps towards me. I peer at him, telling him silently that I need him, and he wraps his arms around my shivering body.

“He got mixed up with some shady folks down here. I don’t know where he could be, and now that he left his phone behind, I have no way to get a hold of him, to find him.”

“How will you know?”
We won’t.
My lungs hurt. Every breath I take feels like a knife is piercing me, and it gets harder to breathe. Cane notices the worried look on my face and holds me closer.

“I don’t know what to say,” Tommy says, “These people are...”

“Are what?”

“Trouble.”

I close my eyes and take several deep breaths, but the pressure in my chest keeps building. I try to hold it all in, but I can’t. I bury my face in Cane’s chest and break down. I don’t cry. I sob. I don’t remember anything more as the phone slips from my hands and the rain covers me, rolls over me. I feel like I’m drowning.

I’ve been in and out of consciousness for what seems like a few hours, but I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. I scarcely remember them throwing me in the back of a truck. It was a bumpy ride. Knowing those assholes, they probably hit every damn pothole in Texas for their enjoyment. My head still pounds from a combination of my hangover, all the punches, and the kicks to my body last night. Someone put my broken arm in a sling, but it hurts like hell. The pain from the hit to my ribs isn’t better, and it tells me that I definitely have a couple of broken ones. It could have been worse, much worse, but I know this shit’s not over yet. Who knows what he’s got in store for me.

I was supposed to have his money almost a year ago, and I failed. Yep, failed. Now I’m going to suffer for it. What can I do? I’m fucked. I already tried to talk my way out of it a couple months ago before I left for Boston to hide. I tried to work something out to pay
him
back. Some kind of payment plan. Ha! But he’s not about payment plans. He wants that cash in a nice big bundle just like I got it. Nice big fat bills, wrapped in that skinny green paper.

All my problems are linked. You can’t separate one from the other. Like a row of dominoes and once one of them falls, then the whole damn thing comes crashing down. That’s exactly what has happened. I never planned for it. The gambling was just a byproduct of my crazy life at college. I thought that my luck would never change. Thought I was indestructible, some fucking superhero, that I would get drafted, that Momma would get better. But it only got worse with my injury. What the hell is that stupid saying about things happening in threes? It’s bullshit! Whoever made that crap up should be hung by their damn balls.

People always want to latch on to something like a damn life preserver. All three of my passions were my life preservers in a way. Without Momma, I wouldn’t have football. If I didn’t have football, there would be no gambling, right? What the hell am I saying? None of this is making any fucking sense! I just made some bad decisions, plain and simple. Pain is learning who you are during the difficult times. I learned that then, and I’m learning it all over again now. All I ever feel is damn pain.

Was this all worth it? Damn right it is. I would do it all over again. Maybe in my second life, but I’m not sure how Momma, Juju or even Elle would think about that. I can’t have anyone be collateral damage because of my dealings with the devil.

I wonder where I’ve ended up. Some underground bunker in the middle of fucking nowhere or maybe in a barn buried under a lot of horseshit and hay. I slowly open my eyes, adjusting them to my surroundings. My arm is tied to something, maybe a bedpost, making it hard to stretch my body to work out the kinks. I’m trying to keep my mind active because I can’t be going crazy. I need to think rationally and keep my shit together.

The only light in the dark room is what breaks through the blinds covering two large windows. The door is to the left, and in front of me is a dresser with a cracked mirror above it. The room smells like mold and the yellow paint is peeling off the walls. Next time, I should remind myself not to complain about hotel accommodations; this place is a shithole. The bed creaks underneath me, and the blankets are old and faded but smell clean, like flowers. I hear activity somewhere, people talking, and things being moved around. I strain forward, listening closely to the conversation outside the door.

The door swings open and slams against the wall, causing some of the paint to fall and dust to rise. Flinching, I recognize the same filthy boots and jeans from the scuffle, and another guy follows close behind. I smell the same stale odor of cigarettes, so it must be the other guy from last night. They both stride over to the bed and stand above me grinning. One guy is bald, with a thick neck and a beer gut,
well,
the size of Texas. He silently steps behind me so that all I can see are his black boots. He reeks of cheap cologne, which almost makes me bring up the bitter alcohol that I drank last night.