Just Let Me Love You (7 page)

“Yep, I sure am,” she replies. “I’m ready for you to take me wherever you want to go.”

“Oh, that leaves a lot of possibilities,” I joke, winking at her.

I feel better now that Kay is with me.

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling at me the whole time. “Let’s go, tiger,” she says.

I’m still not sure where to go, so we hit the road with no set path. As we head north of Vegas, I let the road be my guide. The hum of the bike, the rippling sound of the wind, cruising through the open desert is hypnotic.

When I finally take note of where we’ve ended up, I discover we are in the same area my dad used to let me drive the bike, the same bike we’re on this sunny, fine day.

It’s quiet and desolate out here in the middle of nowhere, but in the best kind of way. It’s blue skies and open road, until I catch sight of an old general store—the only sign of civilization for miles.

I yell back to Kay, “Hey, are you thirsty? There’s a shop up ahead.”

The scorching sun has been beating down on our backs for over an hour, so I’m not one bit surprised when Kay replies, “Yeah, definitely. Let’s stop for a while, Chase.”

It’s decided, and we pull in and park at the general store, before going in for our drinks. After paying, and armed with two big bottles of soda—orange for my girl and lemon-lime for me—we push open the flimsy screen door at the entrance and collapse onto two wooden rocking chairs out on the front porch of the establishment.

The porch is a few steps up from the parking lot, affording us a very nice view of the desert horizon—jagged peaks and valleys, brown and dusty, covered in all varieties of cacti.

“It’s nice out here,” Kay says.

“It is,” I agree.

We kick back, and as we sip at our ice-cold drinks, a little brown lizard on the railing runs by.

“Aw, cute,” Kay says, smiling over at me. “Is that the kind you and Will used to catch?”

Chuckling, I lean back in my chair and reply, “Yeah, but let’s get that story straight.
I
was the one who used to catch the lizards. Will was adept at one thing only—scaring them away.”

Kay laughs just as the wind whips up, sending dirt and sand in the parking lot spiraling up into little, mini tornadoes.

Over the noise, she says, “How can I forget, Chase. That lizard-tale was one of the first stories you ever told me.”

I close my eyes. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” she says quietly, “it was one of the first…and one of the best.”

We remain quiet, lost in our thoughts.

Kay has always loved that story—the tale of Will and the evasive lizards. I shared that memory—one of the best—during one of our first lunch dates. That day now seems so far away, even though, in reality, it was just a few short months ago.

I sigh. This woman and I have been through so much together that the weeks feel like years.

I send a glance Kay’s way, and find her shielding her eyes from the sun while biting her lower lip.

Is she thinking about our first days spent together, getting to know one another?

With a contemplative expression on her beautiful face, one that leads me to think she may very well be thinking the same thing, she slips her sunglasses from where they are perched on her head to down over her eyes.

With her eyewear in place, she glances over at me. It’s hard, though, to discern what’s going on behind those dark lenses, so I ask, “What are you thinking about?”

After taking a long sip of pop, she says, “I was thinking it feels like we’ve come such a long way in such a short time.”

I can’t disagree, since I was just thinking pretty much the same thing.

“It does,” I agree. “It sure does.”

I take a long pull from my soda, feeling a bit contemplative myself.

This little store is not only close to where I learned to ride the bike. Out here, in this part of the desert, we’re not far from where my dad is buried.

Maybe I drove in this direction for a purpose. Maybe I did it self-consciously. Maybe Kay’s right and I
do
know where I need to go to start healing.

Tentatively—I still don’t know if this is such a good idea—I ask her if she’d be okay with stopping by the cemetery.

“Just for a minute or two,” I say in a rushed tone.

“Of course, Chase. I don’t mind stopping at all.” She sends a supportive smile my way. “And we can stay as long as you like.”

“Thanks, babe,” I murmur.

After a beat, Kay adds. “You know, I’ve actually wanted to see where your Dad is buried for a long time now.”

“Hmm…” I trail off.

I’m sure what Kay is saying is true, I’m sure of this for a few reasons. First, she is well-aware the stone angel at my Dad’s grave was the inspiration for the kneeling angel inked on my back. She’s curious to see the real thing, no doubt. And then there’s the fact she has shared with me
everything
about the little sister she lost a few years back. She not only took me to where Sarah is buried many times, but she’s also shared with me the memories she holds closest to her heart.

Sharing things with me, taking me to a place she holds sacred, those things helped Kay heal. Maybe sharing with her my dad’s final resting place will be a starting point for me.

“Let’s get going,” I say to Kay as we finish our sodas.

We’re back on the bike in minutes and heading to the cemetery. We are quiet on the way, and we remain silent as we walk to the grave.

“Here it is,” I say, breaking the silence, my voice cracking since we’ve reached my father’s final resting spot.

I am slightly nervous, having not been out here in so long, but I’m also somewhat soothed.

It’s been a long time, Dad. Shit, the things I’ve done.

“You used to come here every day?” Kay asks, breaking me out of my wandering thoughts.

“Yeah,” I reply, nodding as I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I’d take the bus. The stop for the one that came out here wasn’t far from our apartment. I still had to walk a bit once I was dropped off. But I made the trip almost every day, for, like, forever.”

“Did it help?”

Kay looks over at me. Her sunglasses are up on her head again, but unlike earlier at the store, she doesn’t lower them to shield the sun.

She wants to see me; she wants to see my reactions. And she wants me to see her, so I know for sure she’s here for me.

“I don’t know if coming out here helped,” I hedge. “Maybe…but I really don’t know for sure.”

“You don’t know?” Kay chuckles. “Come on, Chase, be honest with me.”

I take a breath, and then I tell her the truth. “Okay. I don’t think it helped all that much. I was so lost back then, babe.”

I glance up at the stone angel; she’s as imposing as ever.

“What were you searching for?” Kay asks, her eyes on the angel as well.

“I was searching for answers.”

Kay reaches for me.

As I take Kay’s hand, I realize something. Under the watchful eyes of the looming stone angel, I no longer feel lost, not like I did back then. I’m not alone anymore. I have Kay with me, by my side, always, as things are meant to be.

I squeeze my love’s hand and smile.

Quietly, she asks, “What were you
really
seeking back then, Chase?”

With my free hand, I rake my fingers through my hair. “It’s not important,” I mutter.

But Kay’s not having any of my evasive shit. She frees her hand from mine and turns to me, making me face her.

“Chase,” she says. “I know that’s not true. Just tell me.”

“No judgments?”

“Never.”

“Just checking,” I say.

“Quit stalling.” Kay smacks my arm.

“Okay, okay.” Hand through my hair again. “I wanted to know why my dad left us. I used to question how he could end it all like that. I mean, shit, he had a wife who adored him and two sons who thought the sun rose and set on him.” I shake my head. “How does a man throw something that good away? Some people go through their whole lives looking for love like that, and I just don’t get it.” My voice cracks and Kay wraps her little arms around me.

“Chase,” she murmurs, her cheek pressed to my chest. “I wish I knew why people do the crazy things they do. If I could give you some answers, believe me, I would.”

“I believe you,” I whisper.

Looking up at me slowly, her caramels liquid and bleary with unshed tears, she continues. “People do desperate things when their lives are falling apart. Your dad’s world was in turmoil. I’m sure, though, through it all he still loved you.”

She’s told me that before, but I’m still in doubt.

“Yeah,” I bite out, “he sure had a shitty way of showing it.”

I have to pull away from Kay’s embrace; it’s too comforting. I can’t do comfort, not right now, so I walk away. I am determined to hang onto this anger. After all, it’s what I know best.

Kay, undeterred, is on my ass.

“He had his own demons, Chase,” she says breathlessly from behind me. Her steps become faster and faster as she attempts to keep up with me. “His failures led him to take his own life. What happened with your father had absolutely nothing to do with you…or with Will. You and your brother were just children, for God’s sake.”

Bitter tears I’ve left unshed begin to fall.

My steps slow.

Slow, slower…

And then I can’t go on.

I sit my ass down next to some random stranger’s grave and place my head in my hands.

“He was a fucking prick to leave us like that,” I yell out. “He didn’t care that I still needed him, he didn’t care…”

Kay kneels down in front of me. “Chase, Chase, I’m so sorry.” Her hand is on my forearm. “You’re always trying to be so strong for everyone. You needed your dad back then, and you still need someone. Your dad isn’t here, but I am. Let me help you. Please, let me be here for you.”

Her hands go to my shoulders, urging me to raise my head and meet her soft gaze.

But I can’t.

“Please, Chase,” she continues, her hands shaking my shoulders lightly. “You’ve done so much for me. Let me be here for you.” She chokes back a sob. “Just let me love you. Please, baby, please.”

I finally find the strength to meet her gaze. “I do let you love me,” I tell her.

“So, let me love you
more
.”

That gets me smiling. And it makes me want to tease her some to lighten the mood. “What would all this extra loving involve, exactly?”

When I raise a brow suggestively, she swats my arm.

“Stop,” she says. But she’s smiling the whole time. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

“I know, and you
have
helped me. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know, Kay. Just having you here with me, it makes me see things differently. I realized something when we first arrived here at the cemetery, when we were walking quietly to Dad’s grave.”

“What did you realize?”

I take a breath. “That I don’t view this place the way I used to.”

“What do you mean?”

Her voice is soft, pleading, so I try to explain. “When I look around”—I make a sweeping motion with my hand—“at all of this, I see something new. I used to come here and I would see nothing but grave after grave, a desert wasteland. To me, this place was death on top of more death.”

“Chase…”

“But here’s the thing,” I continue. “Look around, baby.” I point to vibrant desert sage, a big barrel cactus, and a bush with bright yellow blooms. “There is life here, too. There’s life all around us.”

“Even in the desert,” Kay marvels as she glances left and right.

“Even in the desert,” I repeat. “And do you know why?”

She looks at me, her gaze questioning.

“Because these plants, these things that are alive, they adapted. They grew and changed. These living things evolved to how they needed to be in this harsh environment.” Sighing, I add, “Maybe that’s what I need to learn how to do.”

Kay replies, “I think you
have
been doing that, Chase. Since the day you got out of prison, you’ve been changing and adapting.”

She’s right, but I tell her the truth of it. “It sure as hell hasn’t been easy.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is.”

She would know.

I rise to my knees and cup her face in my hands. “How’d you end up being so smart, Kay Stanton?”

Shy girl says nothing, but the compliment makes her blush like crazy. And I love it.

“So cute,” I murmur as I rub my thumbs over her pink cheeks.

“Oh, stop,” she says.

Her blush goes from pink to red, and she tries to wiggle away. But I’m not letting her get away. My hands remain, cupping her face. She always feels so breakable beneath my strength. I can’t help but be amazed.

“How can you be so strong, yet feel so fragile?” I ask.

“I’m not so very fragile,” she says with a sly smile.

“No,”—I smile back at her—“I guess you’re not.”

And she’s not. But she’s strong in more than just the sexual ways she’s intimating. Kay has strength and fortitude for the both of us. That’s why I know that beyond today’s first step—and it’s been a good first step, as I finally feel some peace—I will keep making progress.

After all, if I can find signs of life in the Nevada desert, then I can surely find signs of life among my own ruins.