Head Over Wheels (Steamy New Adult Romance) (34 page)

"No, Jewel, it was nothing like that."

"Everyone knew your plans but me. How do you think that makes me feel?" Grunting, I shook my head. "You should have told me. Leveled the playing field."

"I wasn't playing ... after I met you I struggled with the decision ... but I knew I could never leave you."

"The times we were together. When I was falling in love with you, leaving was on your mind ... and I was a fool."

"You weren't," he rasped. "Christ. I feel like I'm fighting a war."

"And I feel like I'm losing it ... the war ... and my mind."

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way," he cradled his head with his hands, "I'm sorry about everything."

"So am I." I stared at him so hard my eyes burned.

"I'm sorry ..."

"That you're a liar?"

He looked like he'd rather have been hit with a brick than hear those words spill from my lips. My hardest punch wouldn't have hurt him half as much as he'd hurt me.

The Harley let out a roar. Indigo opened the door a crack, lifting a hand to Pete who sat on his idling bike. "Can we please talk tomorrow?" He sighed. "I can't leave them now." His gaze took mine to the room from which I'd practically bolted. He sounded broken when he said, "Don't look at me that way."

"Like what? Like I don't know who the fuck you are?" I sucked in a breath. " How should I look at you, Indigo? With love?" I tried to stop my voice from cracking. "Okay, so love me and leave with me ... right now."

His eyes deepened, the gray turning to steel. "They've lost one son ... I can't just walk out on them. Regardless of who they are ... what they are ..."

"So, you're gonna be their permanent
on call
?" When he flinched, I knew I had struck a nerve.

"Don't make me make choose, Jewel. Please try to understand. He's just getting on his feet. I can't tell him I'm not going. Not just yet. It was his dream, too."

“Too? Oh, God. So now I’m standing in the way of everyone’s dream?” I tossed my hands into the air, bombarded by almost every negative D word in the dictionary: deception, degradation, desperation, disaster, demolished ... demonic.

Like sunshine, a few words broke through my rage: delightful, delicious, desire ... but were instantly overcome by destined, disheartened, doomed ... done.

"I can't rock the boat." His grim face kept talking, while I had trouble comprehending. His eyes were fixed; his jaw was set; he didn't even look alive. "But I want you to know, my feelings for you haven't changed, and I'm not going anywhere. I just need time to sort things out." Why was he still talking? I wanted to cover my ears and scream. The jerk of his head, pointing to the dining room, dragged me further into hell. "I'll call you," he was still talking, rambling like a broken recording warning of imminent death in World War Three. "I'll call you," the mechanical stranger kept insisting.

"Haven't I heard that one before?" I sounded so cold, I shivered.

Indigo kept proclaiming his love, repeating, "I'm sorry," his eyes filled with remorse, his voice filled with hopelessness as if he didn't even believe his own spiel.

It was too sad to watch, too painful. I longed to close my eyes and simply walk away, disinterested or deaf – two more appropriate D words – choosing whichever would have eased my agony most.

I was angry as hell, but I wasn't heartless, and I had to make the biggest sacrifice of my life. "It's okay." My voice was stiff as I stroked his cheek, running my fingertips through his hair for the last time. "Adios captain, go take command of your vessel and sail." I caught a sob before it could do any damage.

"Jewel," he called after me, following me onto the porch. I knew he was desperate.

Pete hopped off his bike, arms crossed, he took his stance.

Indigo let out a snort and shook his head. "I'm not fighting Pete." The door stood wide open, yet not welcoming. Before retreating inside, Indigo mumbled, "I'll call you later," in such a defeated tone, a chill swept over me.

In the corner of my eye, Vanessa's shadow flickered. I had a feeling she'd been listening to our entire conversation. Moments later she appeared in the foyer, smug, pink lips forming her sick little smile, her voice loud enough for me to hear. "Jim Jim. Dessert is being served."

Did she literally have no heart?

I watched Pete retrieve my gear from the Wrangler, strap it on his bike. I donned the helmet he'd brought for me, and hopped on behind him. Once Indigo closed the door, I didn't feel his eyes on me again, but I did hear him scream louder than I'd imagined possible: "Get the fuck out of my face, Vanessa!"

On the ride home, a flood of tears covered the back of Pete's jacket. He escorted me into the apartment, to my room where I dumped my belongings, and my soul. "Oh Pete." I snuggled against his chest, my chin burrowed beneath his neck. A bristle of beard grazed my forehead, then came his tears.

"Jewel, I don't get these guys. You're the most wonderful ..."

I sobbed harder.

"You know, if things were different ... if I didn't love Casey, I'd never leave you."

"I know, Pete. But you'll never leave me anyway, right?" My sore eyes strained into his.

"Never." His arms closed around me.

Emma slept at Bill's place that night, and Pete stayed with me. We snuggled on the sofa,  just like old times, only this time he kept patting his chest, his voice so gentle, saying, "Let it out right here." I cried half the night.

The following day, Indigo delivered the cooler I'd left in his car, and my bike, but I made Emma tell him I wasn't home. I knew it was over. He'd realize it too.

No one knows why, but sometimes even the best of things aren't meant to be.

T
he days were long, the nights longer, and unbearably lonely. I'd lie in bed, reliving the last moments Indigo and I were together. Reevaluating possibilities, alternatives. Never did a single detail of his beautiful features fade. The facets of his eyes, their potent expression and hues, were unforgettable. My anger had abated, lifting the weight of betrayal, leaving in its place a hollow nothing could fill. A constant craving not a thing in the world could satisfy.

Plagued by
what if's
, I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that our relationship had ended, and wondered if I'd reacted too harshly. On my journey through the stages of grief, I ended up blaming myself. I knew we were broken, but had no idea how to make repairs. I knew in my heart Indigo was an honest, loving person. Strange things happen, I told myself, striking without reason out of the blue. It was part of life; who was I to question? But ... was there really a
reason
for everything?

Curdling loss still clawed at my stomach, and in the solitary of my room I'd speak Indigo's name aloud, in different tones, pretending he was beside me, which helped keep me sane. Sometimes I'd curl up into a ball, my insides so tight, I thought I'd never make sunrise.

I worked as many hours at AMA as possible, read a lot of books, and studied the Police Manual until I could practically recite each chapter verbatim. Pete and I practiced hand to hand combat on a regular basis, while Casey sat in a chair watching TV, or us. We shared hours of conversation, and many cups of herbal tea.

Indigo repeatedly texted me, but I never replied. I deleted his many messages without reading them. My phone was turned off most of the time, and I never listened to the voicemails he left.

One day I accidentally opened one of his texts, reading his words:
I won't stop calling until you talk to me.
I was longing to know what he had to say, but I couldn't. It would have killed me to hear his voice. I'd experienced life, matured beyond my years, and now had to stop myself from dying prematurely.

So I turned my cell off permanently, shoved it into my dresser drawer, and bought a track phone. I'd formed a habit of never answering the door, so I was safe on all fronts. Eventually, his attempts grew fewer, further apart. Part of me suffered sorrow, part relief. For as much as I yearned to be with him, the past had proven a future would be impossible.

I'd be in training for approximately five months, and planned on giving the academy my all. The first mornings I stood in formation at roll call were among the most exciting times of my life. As days passed, I realized how difficult becoming a police officer would be. Pete looked over my shoulder though, and almost every night we'd relive my day, in person or by phone, with him coaching me through any rough spots.

He'd sink into my living room sofa and smile at my excitement as I described just about every moment of every day.

"We stand in formation every morning at eight," I reported to Pete, after the charisma dissipated. "I'm always early though. Then the staff performs a visual inspection of our attire." The look on his face, and his eye rolls, made me laugh. "Ah, you're remembering, aren't you?"

"Yup. If someone has a wrinkle, is missing a pen, anything, they'll be doing pushups. Just make sure it's not you."

"Never." Under his scrutiny, I shook my head. "It's very militaristic, and believe me, I'm on my toes."

"Ah ha. Go on."

"The calisthenics are a killer, Pete, but I'm a pro at defensive tactics, thanks to you."

"How's your aim?"

"Great. How's yours?" I teased. As I brewed tea, I gave him a rundown of my day. "We went to the range to practice today and next week we'll be in the pool, learning how to tread water while we remove our pants or shirts and tie them into life preservers."

He nodded appreciatively. "When are you visiting the Medical Examiner's office?"

"Ugh. An autopsy is one thing I'm not looking forward to."

"Well, be prepared. It's gross." He flexed his chin, then arched his brows. "Wait till EVOC. It's awesome."

"Oh yeah." I scrubbed my palms together. "I can't wait to hit the course, not the cones." I giggled. "I've been practicing my high speed maneuvers on my dad's Jeep ... and Tony's video games when it's not."

Pete rolled with laughter. "Anything's better than nothing, Kit Kat."

"I've been riding my bike in parking lots when no one's around. Weaving around cars. You know, to get the feel of the wheel."

"Leave it to you." He shook his head. "You're resourceful, gotta give you that much. Don't dent any fenders." He planted a kiss on my forehead before walking out the door.

* * *

The weeks flew by and Indigo's efforts to connect with me were so infrequent, any attempt threw me for a loop, and back into the past. I thought a lot. I dreamed a lot. I cried a lot. I missed him so much, I'd bury my face in my pillow and sob. Emma tried to console me, saying in time I'd forget, but some things were simply unforgettable. Jimmy ...

I assumed he was well into his residency, and busy as hell. Was he still in Manhattan? When would he be leaving the country? At the thought of him relocating to Paraguay, the clench of my gut caused physical distress. The loneliness, impossible to deal with. Had I permitted my mind to take the journey for which it longed, I might not have made it back to reality.

Then one Saturday, a knock at the door almost blasted me out of my self-contained sanctuary. As usual, I didn't answer the buzzer. While I sought refuge in my room, Emma replied to the caller, and the doorbell. "Thank you," I heard her say, her words light, wistful. "Jewel," the tone of her voice was then cautious. "Come out here, please."

Was it her caterer delivering a sample menu? The arrival of her dress? Wedding plans had wrapped her in a continual state of bliss. Chaos had become a frequent visitor.

Filled with expectancy, and a rush of adrenaline, I half expected, half hoped, to see Indigo standing in the middle of my living room. He would take me in his arms and the nightmare would be over. What I found, however, was almost as unnerving, surprising, irresistible.

A long glossy box, wrapped with my favorite color of purple, sat on the counter. A hand flew to my mouth; I sucked in a breath, and tears came faster than Emma's words. But she didn't have to tell me; I knew it was from Indigo. My trembling fingers stroked the satin ribbon, and I hesitated. My heart was inside that box. Could I risk opening it again?

"Oh Jewel." Emma put her arms around my vibrating shoulders.

"It's been hell, Em. I never thought it would be this difficult. That day when I left him there, calling my name. I was so angry. Something inside me snapped. Maybe my pride. I couldn't turn back. And then it just escalated, and the anger was replaced by fear, and I just couldn't ... I couldn't go through that again, Em." I sobbed so hard, the collar of her shirt felt damp beneath my chin. "What should I do?"

"It has to be your decision." She drew back, a strained look on her face.

"Em ... You look like you're about to deliver bad news. Don't tell me something happened to him?" With balled up fists I covered my ears, tears still streaming down my face. As I watched her concern escalate, the knot in my stomach grew. "I don't want to know."

"Okay." Her voice was quiet as she reached for a mug. "I'll make us some tea."

I was the earth, and emotions bombarded me like a meteor storm. I felt my body revolving. Everything my eyes fell upon wavered. I steadied myself on Emma's shoulders and put my body in front of her, my fingers still gripping. "What, Em? What is it?"

She drew a troubled breath. "There's nothing to tell. I was hoping you would have come to terms with this by now, but you don't seem to be any closer to a resolution." She let out a breath.

"Have you seen him?"

"No."

"Heard from him?"

"No, but he's reaching out to you." Her gaze shifted to the counter. "Maybe you should talk to him."

"I don't know if I can. There's this thing inside me, like a wall I can't seem to get over." I shuddered. "It was such a roller coaster."

"I understand. I had hoped you'd be able to move on by now. Are you going to open the box?"

After a soulful moment, I took the deepest breath of my life, and slid the ribbon off the box. After wrapping it around my hair, I lifted the cover. A dozen crisp white rosebuds were buried beneath tissue paper. Carefully separating the stems, I brought the sweetness to my nose. The fragrance almost swept me off my feet. Roses cradled in my arms, I read the note:

To the part of my world that shines brightest;

Jewelia, my joy.

Love is a gentle song which leads a heart to a meadow

The fragrance of paradise, a thoughtful hand on a shoulder

Love is every perfect note in the sound of your voice

The lifetime I've spent in search of you

Each breath I take missing you

Your sigh when you're fast asleep

Memories I'll forever keep

Love is your eyes when they gaze into mine

A traveler of sorrow, a soul lost in time.

I love you, Jewelia.

Always, Jimmy