Keep Me (32 page)

“Sounds perfect! I’ll make our appointments at my salon right now.”

And that’s what we did for the next three days—evaded the topic. Danced around my issues, ignored the stabbing pain in my heart and the nagging agony in my gut. It was working—for now. Marcus was miles away, nowhere in sight. The reminders of our time together were far from reach—it was easy to feign indifference, though inside I feared my heart would never be whole again.

On a typical 104-degree Arizona day, I unstuck my sweaty skin from the chaise lounge by the pool to go inside for a break from the beating sun. The house was quiet except for the midday talk show blaring from the TV in the kitchen. Mom and Dad were out grocery shopping with Luca—I thought it was so cute that they still did that together
and
offered to give me some much needed alone time. So when the doorbell rang I assumed it was one of them, needing help with the packages.

“Coming!” I bellowed as I rushed to the door and swung it open.

He stood there, devastatingly gorgeous as always.

My body went limp, my heart pounding wildly. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you—”

“I love you, pretty girl. I came all this way because you needed to hear that. I love you and I can’t live without you.”

Day One

Why the fuck wouldn’t she answer my calls? Is it really over—just like that? I had the hangover from hell and a broken heart to boot.
Bullshit!
She was my girl and I needed to talk to her the same way I needed the air that I breathed. It couldn’t just be over because of a misunderstanding. I needed her to hear my side—to know that I loved her.

I dialed, praying it wouldn’t go straight to voicemail again. “Pick up the goddamn phone, Tessa!”

But when the voicemail did indeed pick up, I threw the phone across the room and started to pace.
She has to talk to me sooner or later…
right?

Day Two

In a wild rage, I managed to trash the entire apartment. Half-empty beer bottles scattered amongst a sea of broken picture frames, overturned potted plants and soil littering the once immaculate carpet. My bedroom looked like it was ransacked—the contents of my closet strewn around the room haphazardly, the sheets torn from the mattress and the TV blaring with some ridiculous infomercial.

It felt good—for the entire ten minutes that it took me to create this mess—just to have an outlet for the hurt—the hurt which had now turned into anger. Two fucking days and she
still
won’t answer my calls. I was desperate to speak to her—desperate to see her again. Could she be that cold? She had to be hurting too. I couldn’t have imagined it all—our connection, the way our relationship was finally forming into something other than a fling, the way my heart felt whole just by being around her.

I can’t fucking lose you, Tessa! I can’t live without you.
My mind played back the flawless features of my pretty girl, even though my eyes were intent on the elderly couple forcing whole pieces of fruit through the blades of the high tech juicer they were advertising on TV.

My heart felt like that fucking kumquat. Ripped to shreds, pulverized to pulp, completely juiced.

Day Three

I was done with the pity party. It was time to take matters into my own hands, but Riley held all the power in hers and she wasn’t giving it up.

“Tell me where she is!” My sister was a stubborn bitch, but withholding Tessa’s whereabouts went way beyond stubborn—it was wicked.

We were at it again, for like the umpteenth time since Tessa left the lake house. When I came home that first morning, after sleeping off the alcohol and the gut-wrenching pain, I dragged Riley with me to Tessa’s house, only to find it empty. She just picked up and took off and I had no idea where she went. Riley didn’t know then either, but she did now. They’d been in contact and I followed Riley’s instructions to back off. But it was pure torture—the waiting, biding my time. Today the wait just had to be over. It was the day I would get some answers. However, Riley still wasn’t willing to give them.
Bitch!

“She doesn’t want to see you, Marcus. She’s barely even answered my calls. You need to leave her alone and let her calm down.”

I didn’t want to leave her alone anymore. Her time to be alone was up. I’d given her that and now I wanted to
see
her,
touch
her,
explain
to her that what she saw wasn’t what she saw. She needed to know how I felt—empty and lost without her. My heart ached—I was in love with Tessa and I never even got the chance to tell her.

“Riley, I will
never
forgive you for this!
Never
!” I stormed out of her house, clutching my phone for dear life. I willed it to ring, begged for some sign from Tessa that we weren’t over, but just like the last couple of days and nights, it remained silent.

“Goddamn it!” I screamed as I punched the dashboard with my good hand. It was a stupid move, considering the other one was all bandaged up because of my fight with the dresser. But I felt helpless. I just couldn’t stand around trying to function as if everything was okay, not knowing where she was and what she was thinking. This was torture—this was what I’d been trying to avoid all my life.

I rested my head on the steering wheel, rolling my forehead back and forth, trying to rub out the pain. It was useless. This wasn’t the type of hurt that just disappeared and allowed you to go on with your life. This hurt was the kind that would stay with me, fester until I lived with guilt and regrets that would change the person I am—the person I was learning to become because of Tessa. Because of Luca, too.

As I sat there feeling sorry for myself, I thought of all the people Tessa knew—someone would be able to lead me to her. There had to be one fucking person who could put me out of my misery.

And as luck would have it, that person was Tessa’s beautiful, godsend of a mother.

The phone rang, vibrating on my lap. It was an out of area number, but I would have taken a collect call from China if it meant getting information about Tessa.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Yes, hi. Is this Marcus Grayson?” The voice was hushed, soft. Holy Christ, it was angelic.

“Yes. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Hi, Marcus… oh jeez, she’s gonna kill me when she finds out I did this, but… this is Tessa’s mother, Brenda Bradley.”

“Is she okay? Please tell me Tessa’s okay.” My words were frantic, but I was thinking up worst case scenarios.
Please God, tell me she hasn’t been in some kind of accident. I haven’t told her how I feel!

“Yes, yes, she’s fine. Calm down, sweetie.”

“Oh, thank you!” I was relieved. It was the first time in days that I could actually breathe without the paralyzing weight on my chest. But I still had to get to her. “Can you tell me where she is?” Realization set in. “Oh shit!—I mean, sorry, I’m just so—is she
there
? In Arizona? With you?” I wanted to run off a list of twenty questions, but most of all I just needed the name of a damn place so I could get to her as soon as possible.

Mrs. Bradley huffed out a long breath and then continued. “Marcus, I’m only calling you because I can’t bear to see Tessa like this. Not after what she’s been through with…” She took a long pause. I knew this had to be hard on her, too. It couldn’t be easy to see your child in pain. When she returned, her tone was stern—she meant business. “I’ll tell you where she is… on one condition.”

“Anything. Just say the word. I’ll do
anything
for her.”

“You tell me exactly what happened that night. No lies, no cover-ups, no beating around the bush. I plan on calling Riley next, so don’t think you can lie to me just to get what you want.”

Like mother, like daughter—Tessa and her mother were two spunky chicks. I loved it. “Mrs. Bradley, first of all, I would never dream of lying to you. Second of all, what you need to know, above all else, is that I’m in love with your daughter. I never told her, and my biggest fear was that I’d never get to tell her, but—I’ll get my chance now and it’s all because of you.”

“You still didn’t give me my answer, young man. You can love someone and still hurt them—I know that, Tessa knows that, I’m sure even that monster Zack knew that.”

“I’m nothing like Zack, Mrs. Bradley, and to answer your question, no. I didn’t do what Tessa thinks I did. It was all one big clusterfuck—sorry, I mean, misunderstanding.” I had kissing up to do and my sailor mouth wasn’t going to help.

She cleared her throat, waiting for more. When I remained silent, she came back with more of her surprising forwardness. “Details, mister. And don’t be shy. I’m not some wrinkled up old lady, I’m privy to the current trends—I read
Fifty Shades of Grey
. So spill it…
Why
did Tessa see what she saw?”

Seriously? I remembered meeting Brenda Bradley once—at Riley and Tessa’s college graduation. But I was still young and even if she was only in her forties then, she was still old to me. But a few years and a little maturity—and the mention of the book known round the world for its ridiculous sex scenes—made me realize Brenda was a
woman
not just Tessa’s mother. “Brenda,” I laughed and then sat up straight again. “Uh… do you mind if I call you Brenda or do you prefer Mrs. Bradley?”
Don’t piss off the mother, Grayson. She’s the only hope you have right now.

“Brenda’s fine.”

“Good, okay… where were we?”

“Your lips were all over some woman’s body and it wasn’t Tessa’s.”

Blunt—add it to the list of things I liked about my new ally.

“Yes, well, no. That’s not how it was at all. Tessa and I had an argument… she said some things, well…” Why was this so hard? Emotionless was my middle name, I didn’t know how to do this, especially not to a near-stranger. “They fucking hurt! She made me feel like shit and I just needed to walk away.”

“So far you’re not painting a pretty picture—and I have seen some pretty pictures of you, Mr. Wild West.”

Oh my god.
Tessa told her about that? That was good. The fact that she was talking about me, about things that used to make her smile—there was hope. “Okay, well then, let me paint it better… I went off to my room, devastated. When the knock came on the door I thought it was Tessa coming to find me, instead it was the girl in question—Skylar.”

“Do you and Skylar have a history?” She sounded so much like a psychologist. Unaffected, just going with the flow, trying to evaluate it all.

I swear I almost called her Dr. Ruth, but I didn’t want to piss her off. “Well, yes, but—I have never felt about a woman the way I feel about Tessa. Ever. I’ve never been in a relationship. She’s my first.”

“But you just said you had a history with Miss Skylar.”

Therapy session 101 was about to get a little rocky.

“History, as in past, yes. But there was no relationship. It was a one-time thing and apparently she was coming back for more.”

“Ahhh, I see.
So?
Did you grant the girl her wish?”

“
No!
Haven’t you heard anything I’ve been saying? Of course I didn’t. She came on to
me
! She cornered
me! She
was the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer and it was
my
damn luck that just as she pushed herself on me, Tessa walked in. I swear to it, Brenda, I told her to get out the minute she came in. I never meant to hurt Tessa. I’ve always promised her she could trust me.”

“Can she, Marcus? She told me you got a little violent.”

I was waiting for this. I knew that rocked her—I saw it on her face. Like a doe-eyed deer in headlights, all because of me. “I can’t apologize enough for that, but please, I’m begging you please, don’t compare me to Zack. I’m nothing like him. I don’t want to control her. I don’t want to own her. I just want to love her. And when I thought she was taking that away from me, I went a little crazy.”

“Marcus,” she huffed, a long, loud breath of relief. “I believe you. I can hear it in your voice, you’re telling the truth, but
I’m
the easy one. Even if I tell you where she is, I can’t promise you that all will be forgiven. She’s got a thick skull and a cage around that beautiful heart of hers… she needed to build some kind of armor after what he did to her.”

It would be work, but I would walk cross-country and back just to get a shot at proving myself to her again. “Please, Brenda. Please tell me where she is.”

I heard something in the background—it was hard to make out. Upon closer concentration, I realized it was the click-clacking typing of a keyboard.

“Your flight leaves tomorrow at six a.m. It was the only thing available on such short notice. Michael and I will make sure we’re out—oh, grocery shopping, that works—so when you arrive at the house you two will have some time alone. I’m arranging for a cab to pick you up at the airport and drop you off here, at my home. Any questions?”

Was she some secret, undercover special ops agent or something? Listen to her, making undisclosed plans, executing travel arrangements, and even thinking of an alibi for herself and her husband. “Yes, I do have one question for you, Bren.”