Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series (11 page)

              My hand rubbed my chest where it suddenly burned. Bryan and I would work together until I found someone and then…what? I didn’t want to say goodbye, but what exactly were we? Friends for the sake of our friends?

Bryan:
Ouch! U really been gypped out of some shit.

             
If he only knew. Moving from place to place as a kid, I learned to make friends fairly easily, and when we moved, I left them all behind. Every couple of years, my life started over. Sometimes I wished I could have one more restart.

              I might say that, but I didn’t mean it. The truth of the matter was, getting sick opened new doors for me. I have met people I never would have met, made new friends through my online support groups, and started to write more. And as sad as it sounded, because the reason sucked, my family grew out of this experience together and we are all closer than we used to be. As with everything in life, there was good and bad to be had. I didn’t want to be sick, but since I had no choice in the matter, I chose to do what I could to help raise awareness and I found a new way to live a good life for me.

Me:
It is what it is.

Bryan:
Hell no. We really need to find u someone that will show u exactly what u r missing. Trust me, it’s a fucking lot. But first, we need to get u over ur issues.

Me:
My issues?

Bryan:
Low self-esteem and ur fortress of solitude that no one can penetrate.

U have issues.

Me:
Does that mean you have issues too?

Bryan:
We aren’t talking about me.

Me:
Quid pro quo.

             
He didn’t respond. I waited a couple of minutes with my fingers hovering over my keyboard before a message popped into the chat window.

Bryan:
Sorry, pee break and needed more aspirin.

Yeah, I have issues. Everyone does, but urs r practically impenetrable.

Me:
You ok?

Bryan:
Yep. Only a hangover headache. Backlash from binging.

             
Me:
Why did you binge?

             
Maybe I missed the mark or failed at picking up the right cues, but a bad date did not equal a reason to get so drunk, a hangover became your best friend the next day.

Bryan:
Because.

Me:
Because?

Bryan:
It wasn’t intentional. I drank some whiskey and then drank some more. I had already taken cold medicine b4 my date, so it probably added to it and BAM.

Me:
I thought you weren’t supposed to drink while on cold meds.

Bryan:
Thank u for the public service announcement. No, u should not.

Me:
Got it.

             
I decided it was best to ignore his sarcasm, or I might reach through the computer and slap him. Talking to him put me on edge, and it would not take much to push me right over the cliff.

              Okay, maybe I wouldn’t do that to him since he was out of it, and he was helping me with my “situation.”

Bryan:
But seriously for a sec cause I’m about to crash. Ur better than that. Ur better than comparing yourself to someone else, better than putting yourself down, and better than u give yourself credit for. U need to see it for yourself. U deserve to treat yourself better than u do.

Me:
I know.

Bryan:
Do u? Because when I look at u, I see a beautiful woman with a pretty smile, who’s a great person on the inside and out.

             
My cheeks burned red with his high praise as butterflies danced in my stomach. He thought me beautiful?

Me:
Thank you.

Bryan:
Don’t just thank me, believe it. I’ve gtg. I’ll ping later.

Me:
K. Feel better.

             
I didn’t know if I believed him or not. For so long I had been unsure of myself in a lot of different aspects. Getting over the hurdles I had placed in my own path, might be one of the hardest things I’ve ever faced.

              My sister wasn’t really all bad. In truth, she wasn’t bad at all…only sometimes, but I loved her to death. Since we had entered adulthood, our relationship drastically improved; and when I got sick, she tried to step up to the plate and help me. She checked on me all the time, went grocery shopping for me whenever I asked, or if she thought I needed groceries, and took me to every single one of my doctor appointments. Not only had she become my part–time caretaker, but she had become a good friend as well. That being said, as a sister, Ellie still annoyed me to no end.

              Having my sister take care of me, sometimes made me feel like a burden to her. She has cooked for me, dressed me, and helped me with basics when I struggled. I hated depending on her or anyone for so many things. It shouldn’t, but it made me feel like less than a person. She always told me it never bothered her to do things for me, and perhaps it didn’t, but it bothered me. What person actually wanted to have her sister dress her or brush her teeth? No one I knew.

              And then there were the times when she tried to speak for me, only to give out false or inaccurate information. Or the times when she overreacted. Of course on that front, my parents were the king and queen of overreacting.

Being around me all of the time, Ellie had a level of knowledge my parents did not possess. They made me feel like I was five again when they were around. My mom cut my food into bitesize pieces, tried to carry me from point A to point B, and constantly asked if I needed help in the bathroom.
Fuck no.

On a couple of occasions when they came in to visit and stayed with me, I dropped the shampoo bottle. Unlike Ellie who called through the door to check on me, my mom barged into the bathroom and ripped the shower curtain open. Not her finest hour. Not mine either since I yelled, screamed, and told her to get the fuck out.

The truth of the matter was, I struggled and was still learning how to cope and live with my new body, with my disease, even four years later. And the funny thing about that was, I think Bryan made more headway in a few conversations than anyone else had in years of knowing them. I might also admit he made more progress than me on my own.

My walls cracked and light started to peek in. Maybe, and I wasn’t saying for sure, but maybe not everyone around me sucked—and that included me.

Chapter 13

Bryan

              For almost two weeks, Emma and I talked on a daily basis, and for some reason, I felt like I had hit the glass ceiling so to speak. I needed to break through her defenses and slap some sense into her, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it.

              Curious about what another guy would say or think, and dreading it at the same time—I would not be exploring that particular emotion—I showed her picture to my roommate, Evan, and filled him in on a few details of her personality, leaving out her disability temporarily.

              “I’d do her in a heartbeat and maybe more than once,” he proclaimed, grinning widely.

              It was time to hit him with the other half of the truth. I realized exactly why she thought the way she did about men. “What if she used a cane or a walker? Would it change things for you?”

              Hesitating, he finally admitted, “I don’t know, but I can say this, if I saw her in a bar, I wouldn’t give her a second glance with that shit. Sorry.”

              He wouldn’t give her a chance just because she used medical devices to help her walk? No other reason? It made me want to punch him in the face. I resisted though.

              And then he said something else that gave me pause and made me think. “Are you telling me that if you went into the bar and saw her with a walker, you would stroll right on up to her and try your hand at picking her up? It doesn’t matter how pretty or cool she is, we see that shit, we pretend we don’t see her, we turn, and walk in the opposite direction. You would too. So don’t give me that crap that you would fuck her no questions asked. You are the same as the rest of us shallow fuckers because when it comes down to it, we don’t want to bother. Hell, I’ve seen you do that.”

              “Me? What are you talking about?”

              “Do you remember when Danny asked us to meet his fiancée Lila and she brought that other girl with them?

              “She did?” I honestly could not recall meeting anyone else that night.

              “And my point is made. Not that she was all that cute, but Lila’s friend or sister or whoever the fuck that girl was, was deaf and had braces on her legs. You gave one split second glance and turned away.”

              “No, I didn’t.” I tried to brush off his words, to remember the girl in question, except I drew a complete blank.

              “Do you remember her?” Evan demanded. His smirk told me he knew he had me backed into a corner.

              I hesitated, and then finally gave him my quiet answer, “No.”

              “There you have it. Look. Emma may be the greatest person on the planet. Hell, she could have fucking Mother Theresa’s personality with Marilyn Monroe’s body, but with that excess baggage, no one would try to get in her pants or give her a second glance. With that shit, someone is going to have to get to know her first, and that is mighty hard to do at social events when people judge first on appearance and personality second.”

              Furrowing my brow, I thought about what Evan had said, and while I hated to admit it, I had to concede that he had a point, but I still needed to know something. “Now that I’ve told you about her, would you still do her?”

              “Hell yeah. She’s hot and sounds like a lot of guy’s wet dream, but she’s not just some stranger at a bar now. Is she?”

              “No, I guess not,” was the only answer I could come up with, because it contained nothing but the absolute truth. Emma was more than a mere stranger to both of us.

              I marinated on mine and Evan’s conversation over the next 24 hours. He was right, and it made me both sad and angry for Emma. But at the same time, I was ashamed to admit that if I walked into a bar, if she was just another face in the crowd, I wouldn’t give her the time of day.

              In my holier than thou “I know everything” attitude, I had actually tried to convince her she was wrong, been telling her to get over her insecurities and her self-esteem issues, and now I realized how full of shit I was.

              Slowly, too slowly to an impatient ass like me, she had been opening up to me, and it took my roommate knocking me down a couple of pegs before I realized the uphill battle she faced on a daily basis. Dealing with her illness and disability, her mountain got steeper and taller with every step she took, and she fought the battle alone.

              It was weird, less than a month ago, Emma was barely a blip on my radar, and now I talked to her almost daily, and I looked forward to those conversations. I lived the life of a single Navy pilot and enjoyed it immensely. Sometimes it felt like it lacked something, however, I knew how to shut down those feelings fairly quickly. I wasn’t ready for something serious, something that required a commitment. The Navy had the only commitment I wanted to make to anyone.

              I flew plane for a living, it was every little boy’s dream come true. Nothing else compared to the rush of take–off and zooming through the air. When I wasn’t deployed or up in the sky, I flittered from one woman to the next, and found a lot of the crazies. Even if I wanted a long–term relationship, I would never consider any of them for that role in my life. The only person who came close enough to fit the bill—if I was actually looking—was Emma.

              No, I loved my life the way it was. I had been stationed in San Diego almost a year and a half ago, and had been gone for the past nine months for deployment.

My roommate Evan and I had met each other back in junior high, when his Army father had been stationed in Savannah for less than a year. We kept in touch and when I called with the news that I got transferred to San Diego, he offered me a room in his house. He had tried to follow his father’s footsteps and joined the Army, but after four years when it came time to re–enlist, he opted to leave. It wasn’t where he saw his life going. Although, I wasn’t exactly sure he saw his life taking the turns that it had.

After getting out of the Army, he didn’t know what to do and eventually decided to use his expertise and business degree to open a dojo. Now he taught little kids, and anyone else who wanted to learn, how to defend themselves. He said it was fulfilling and he loved the hours, so he never complained.

I counted him as one of my closest friends, even though there were times I’ve wanted to gut him and throw his body in the ocean for the sharks. I was pretty sure he would say the same thing about me. Over the years, he had become one of the people I turned to for advice, and when I needed a boost to my conscience. That little voice in me liked to talk, but I didn’t always listen when I should. I trusted him to be honest with me, and help me see reason. He always did. The Emma situation was just one example. 

I was an ass.

I needed some sort of edge with Emma. Something that would break her shell and crumble her walls faster, instead of chipping away at them one small sliver at a time. Truth be told, I needed a fucking sledgehammer for her defenses. Maybe I was too cocky for my own good. I knew I was impatient, but this had to be done, and I felt as if I had to be the one to do it.

Picking up my cell, I called the one person I knew who could help shed some light on the puzzle that made up Emma Taylor. “Mel! How’s my third favorite girl?”

“Third?” She snickered. “You must want something because I’m climbing higher up the list. Normally, I’m number four.

“Bullshit at home,” I grumbled.

“My parents told me.” I hated how her voice got softer, how it had that almost pitying tone. Would Emma have the same tone of voice if she knew how my family stood on the precipice of falling apart?

“Fuck!”

“You know our parents are friends and that kind of secret cannot be kept considering they play bridge every week together.”

My hand raked through my hair and pulled. Maybe the pain would make everything disappear. It didn’t work and I huffed, “I know. Did you know they haven’t even called me? I found out from Rayne.”

“What? Please tell me that’s some sort of sick joke.”

“You know how things are with them. Can you really ask me that? But to answer you, this is not a fucking joke. I haven’t spoken to them since I got back to San Diego and that conversation lasted less than ten minutes.” The only thing that kept me from blowing my stack during my conversation with Mel right now was that Emma popped online and we started to chat with each other. To some, I might be considered a rude ass jerk for carrying on two different conversations at the same time, but it did not matter to me. One consisted of only typing and one required I speak aloud. Easy.

I heard her sigh before she said, “Sorry Bryan. That’s messed up.”

“Yep, it is.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute or two and neither did I, and then she cleared her throat. “So, I know you didn’t call me to complain about your parents’ lack of communication skills, considering they’ve hardly kept you informed since high school. What’s up?”

“You’re right. That isn’t why I called. I really called to ask you about Emma. What’s her story?”

“Why? You interested?”

“No,” I rushed loudly.

“Don’t be so quick to answer,” she mumbled. I could almost pick up notes of irritation in her voice, but when it came to masking her feelings, Mel was the master.

Rolling my eyes, I retorted, “Don’t be a bitch or I’ll spread your dirty secrets to Luke. I really like him and would hate to see him run away screaming.”

“You can’t scare me. He knows everything.”

“Everything? Does he know about the Barbie graveyard? Or about what you did to Raggedy Ann?”

“You don’t even know if that’s true or not. We didn’t meet until later, dumbass.”

“Your mom has pictures. And besides, I don’t need proof. The fact that you and I are so close, that our friendship is so tight, will be enough proof for him. I’m sure he’ll believe everything I say. Damn, I could probably make shit up and I’d still have him eating out of the palm of my hand. Another thing, you’re awfully defensive there. Plus, you’ve never really denied anything in the past, which by my standards is proof enough for me.”

A growl from deep in her throat echoed through the phone. I had touched on a nerve. “Asshole.”

“But you love me anyway.”

“I do, but I could also shank you right now.”

“Watching prison dramas again?”

“Hooked on ‘em.” She chortled. “Now what do you want?”

“What’s Emma’s story?” I accidentally chuckled aloud at something Emma typed in our chat window.

“What the hell are you laughing at? You ask me about my friend and then you laugh at her?”

“No, I’m not laughing at her. The TV is on and that funny puppet guy is on. He’s hilarious. So what’s her story?” I crossed my fingers that she believed my lie.

“Okaaay.” She sounded as if she didn’t quite believe me, but she moved past it. “She’s been burned a few times.”

“I got that.” I itched to ask her about her sister, but since Ellie and Mel were friends, in addition to Vegas rules applied to all conversations I had had with Emma up until this point, I kept that particular line of questioning to myself. “I’ve just talked to her a couple of times and she seems…I don’t know. Closed off?”

“She is. Her best friend, Gia, told me one time that she’s had some crappy relationships with guys, and after she got sick, some of her friends started treating her like shit. She also said Emma has had trust issues for a while, but she wouldn’t tell me why. Gia told me Emma puts on a happy face and does anything for anyone, even on days she is struggling or when she wants to cry. So I don’t know. I’ve known her almost five years and we’re close, but she doesn’t share everything with me.”

“Oh.” I laughed out loud again, and winced when I realized what I had done.

“Interested?”

Thankfully, she didn’t ask about my outburst–either that or she chose to ignore me. “No, just curious,” I quickly replied.

“Good, because she deserves better than someone who practices love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“I know. Besides, she’s a friend of yours. I won’t touch that.”

She paused for a moment, and then Mel spoke softly, “I hope she finds someone that will treat her right.”

“Me too.”

Dead silence descended between us. Had I said something I shouldn’t have? Thinking over my conversation with her, the last words I had spoken, I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t sure. Mel’s mind worked different than others–at least I always believed it had.

“You do?” Her question came across the line sharp and yet quiet at the same time.

“What? She’s your friend and seems like a nice enough person. She deserves someone good.” I still refused to admit how much we talked, what we talked about, or how much I looked forward to my conversations with Emma.

And then once again, Emma’s wit struck again. I really should have waited to talk to her because she kept making me laugh.

“Seriously, what are you laughing at? And don’t give me that bullshit about puppets on TV. Do you have someone over there doing a piss poor job at giving you a blow job or something? If you can talk on the phone, get blown at the same time, and laugh about it, she sucks…or maybe she doesn’t. Does she need lessons?” She laughed so loudly, I had to pull the phone away from my ear.