Not Until You: Part VII (3 page)

He wouldn’t have let me dismiss him so easily like I had Michael. It wasn’t fair for me to hold that against Mike. I had wanted him to stay behind, but still, the thought niggled at me like a rock in my shoe. I didn’t need to be taken care of. I was completely capable of managing things myself. But I couldn’t deny that part of me missed being . . . handled.

Foster had made me feel like I was something precious, something to be guarded.

Part of the time that had driven me mad.

But right now, as I drove home in the dark, still wearing that stupid ankle bracelet because I couldn’t bring myself to take it off, I felt . . . adrift.

Chapter 35

Foster sat in Pike’s car in the dark, not sure what he was more ready to do, punch something or throw up. He’d snuck into the damned cowboy joint, knowing he shouldn’t watch, but unable to stop the perverse need to see for himself. He’d tracked down Cela two days ago with the anklet and had been watching her, waiting for the right time to approach her.

He’d never planned to stay in the background this long. But he also hadn’t planned to find Cela dating someone. He should’ve assumed it was a possibility. It’s not like they had talked since he’d won the Asshat of the Year award in his office that day. But part of him had hoped that maybe she was having as hard a time moving on as he was. Dating hadn’t even been a possibility for him since she’d left. But here she was out on another date with Mr. Teeth. Who the fuck smiled that much? The guy seemed to have permanent hooks holding his mouth up. No doubt because he figured he was getting closer and closer to working his way into Cela’s life . . . and bed.

Foster rubbed the back of his neck, tension gathering there at the thought of someone else touching Cela. He’d almost convinced himself that Cela was just friends with the guy . . . until tonight. Watching that fucker put his hands on her and kiss
his
woman had inspired murderous thoughts in Foster and had almost launched him into an unprovoked barroom brawl. But he’d held himself back, not wanting to embarrass Cela or cause trouble for her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was simply moving on.

Without him.

And really, if it was that easy for her to go on with someone new, maybe everything Foster had read into their relationship had been bullshit anyway. He’d
wanted
it to be her. He’d wanted Cela to be that girl for him. But maybe he’d laid all that expectation on her and then only saw what he wanted to see. He’d done it before with Darcy. And even with his parents early on. When it came to relationships, he saw what he hoped for instead of what really was. And if Cela could be happy with some vanilla dentist who didn’t even bother to walk her out to her car, then he couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

The kind of relationship he wanted with her wasn’t the type you persuaded someone into. You were either wired for it or not. And if she could walk away from it and not look back, that said everything he needed to know.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from following her home to make sure she got in okay. God, he was pathetic. He could now add creepy stalker to his list of attributes. What the fuck was wrong with him?

She was on the phone when she turned her car into her driveway, but waited until she ended the call before getting out. When she climbed out, she had her keys in her hand and peeked over her shoulder, quickly checking the perimeter. That brought a touch of a smile to his lips. Good girl. If nothing else, he could take comfort in knowing that she was being more aware now, looking out for herself.

Foster watched from his spot across the street a couple of houses down, drinking up the last view of her as she headed up the steps in her painted-on jeans and cowboy boots. Her hair hung loose along her back, and he remembered what it had felt like to wrap around his fingers. A pang went through his chest as she unlocked her door and slipped inside.

It’d be the last time he’d lay eyes on her.

Because as much as he wanted to bust her door right down and beg for another chance, he wasn’t going to disrupt her life like that again. She seemed to be doing fine without him. He took a long breath, daggers of regret knifing through him, then shifted forward to turn the key in the ignition. But a loud rap on the window had him jumping in his seat.

He turned to the left to find himself face-to-face with the barrel of a shotgun, the butt of it against the glass. “Fuck.”

He ducked down on instinct, his mind whirling.

“Get out the car,” a low, exceptionally calm voice said through the window.

“Motherfucker,” he muttered, grasping for any possible escape route. If he were in his car, he’d have a gun in the glove box. But Pike wouldn’t have anything—the guy had hated firearms since the days his dad used to wave one around for effect while he was shit-faced. Left without much choice, Foster put his hands up to indicate he was cooperating, then reached for the door handle.

Whoever was on the other side backed up to make room but kept the gun steady and pointed right at him. Foster pushed the door open and climbed out slowly, hands up, hoping it was just a carjacking. Pike would be so pissed, but Foster could replace his car. He silently thanked God that Cela had already gone inside or this could be her with the gun pointed at her head.

The man on the other side of the shotgun was older and shorter than him and seemed to be wearing . . .
pajamas
? But the dude had a determined look in his dark eyes, so Foster wasn’t going to attempt to overtake him unless he had to.

“Is there a problem?” Foster asked carefully, beginning to wonder if this was just some neighbor protecting his property line or something. Maybe he’d parked his car too high on the curb and hit a flower bed. Texans could be touchy about that shit.

“Yes, there is,” he said, accent thick and tone terse. “Mind telling me why you’re lurking in the dark watching my daughter? And don’t try anything stupid. I’ve already called the police.”

Oh, shit.
Pieces fell together in a quick jumble.
The dad
. Foster closed his eyes for a moment. Okay, so not a carjacker or criminal. At least he wouldn’t get shot tonight. Well, probably not. “I’m so very sorry, Dr. Medina. I’m no threat. I’m a friend of Cela’s.”

His eyes narrowed. “A friend who sneaks around in the middle of the night spying on her like some cockroach?”

Rapid-fire muttering in Spanish punctuated the statement. Foster wasn’t one hundred percent fluent, but he picked up a few choice names including pervert and bastard.

Damn, how was he going to explain this? The truth wasn’t exactly good news. “My name is Ian Foster. I’m a friend of Cela’s from Dallas. A neighbor.”

He tilted the gun and gave Foster the hairy eyeball.

“And an ex-boyfriend,” he said finally, realizing the man wasn’t going to take any bullshit answer.

More Spanish and a look of utter distaste from Cela’s father. “Shut up and stay where you are.”

Sirens cut through the night, and Foster tilted his head back. Fan-fucking-tastic. So much for being covert. For the first time he wished
he
had a safe word—anything that would get him out of this mess.

A few minutes later, he found himself face-to-face with a cop who was not in the mood for niceties. Cela’s father had stepped aside and put the gun down, but he clearly was going to stick around for the show. Foster glanced over at Cela’s house, wondering how long it’d be before she saw the flashing lights and peeked out her window. Nothing like a heaping dose of humiliation served up hot. And he’d suffer it in front of her family no less. Terrific.

“Mr. Foster, do you mind explaining to me why this car is registered to someone else?” the cop asked, gripping the car’s registration in his hand and holding it up for Foster to see.

“Pike’s my roommate. He let me borrow the car.”

“Borrow?” the cop frowned like he wasn’t familiar with such a progressive idea. “Turn around, Mr. Foster.”

“For what?”

The cop pulled out his handcuffs and gave Foster the don’t-mess-with-me face. Fucking hell. Foster turned around, handcuffs going over his wrists. Click, click. “I’m just going to put these on until we get this sorted out.”

That’s when the door opened across the street. Cela peered out, the red and blue lights flashing over the shorts and T-shirt she’d changed into. Her head turned toward her father, who was leaning against a tree with arms crossed and a fierce expression. He noticed his daughter and waved a dismissing hand. “Go inside, Marcela.”

“What’s going on?” she called out.

“I said go inside,” he barked back.

Foster’s eyebrow lifted. He had an idea of how
that
tone would go over. He could almost hear Cela gritting her teeth. As expected, she stalked across her yard and toward her father. Heh.

“What are you smirking about?” the cop snapped.

Foster’s gaze slid back to the cop. “Nothing at all, officer.”

But he had no doubt the cop heard the heavy sarcasm in Foster’s voice. Foster was about done putting up with this crap. There was no avoiding Cela knowing now, so he had no reason to continue playing nice.

“I suggest you wipe that look off your face then,” the cop said.

“Well,
I
suggest that you take me out of these handcuffs. You haven’t placed me under arrest. I haven’t threatened you. And I was parked on a public street, not bothering anyone when a gun was pointed at my head. If anything, I’m the victim here. So you can either unlock these or I can make a call to my lawyer.”

“
Foster
?”

Cela had made her way across the street and was now staring at him, mouth agape.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Hi.”

She blinked, like she hadn’t understood his greeting, then seemed to snap back into place. Her gaze slid to the handcuffs then back to him and the cop. “What the hell is going on?”

“Your father found this man watching your house,” the cop explained in that I’ll-take-care-of-this-little-lady tone. “But don’t worry, we have it under control. Your father kept him contained until I got here.”

She glanced at her father, then to the shotgun lying next to the tree, and her eyes widened with horror. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t.”

Her father pointed Foster’s way and went into a heated explanation in Spanish. Cela snapped back at him with just as fiery of a response.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Foster said, not wanting to cause problems for her with her family. “It was my fault. I came down here to see you, then decided not to bother you. I’m sure it looked suspicious.”

She swiveled her attention his way. “I’ll deal with you in a second. And I don’t care what you looked like, he doesn’t get to threaten people with a gun.” She looked back to her father. “What if he had been a real criminal, Papá? He could’ve hurt
you
.”

“I can handle myself,” her father said petulantly.

“And so can I!” She looked to the heavens. “When are any of you going to get that through your heads? What were you doing? Waiting for me to get home tonight?”

Her father’s gaze flicked away.

“Oh my God, seriously? I’m twenty-three years old. What would have happened if I’d brought my date home? Would you have banged on the door and pointed a gun at him, too?”

Foster’s jaw clenched at even the mention of her date going home with her.

Her father didn’t answer, which was answer enough. She turned her head Foster’s way again, cheeks flushed with anger. “For God’s sake, get him out of those handcuffs, Will. He’s not some criminal.”

Will didn’t look pleased with the order, but he complied. Foster watched Cela as the cop went to work on the cuffs. She was so beautiful standing there, cheeks pink, eyes wild. As his gaze drifted downward over the clothes she’d put on for bed and her bare legs, he caught sight of a glint of silver in the glare of the streetlight. His anklet. Even after everything, she was wearing his gift. Something turned over inside him. He lifted his gaze to hers, and he knew she was aware of what he’d seen. Heartbreak sat there heavy in her eyes, taking the breath from his chest.

Foster rolled his wrists once they were out of the cuffs and stepped onto the sidewalk but didn’t take his eyes off Cela. Behind her, he could see other neighbors drifting out now, gawking. And a lady he assumed to be her mother was standing out on the porch of the house directly across from Cela’s. He shook his head. “I’m really sorry about all this.”

She crossed her arms over her chest,
why?
all over her face, then sighed. “Come on.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, she spun on her heel, walked around to the passenger side of Pike’s car, and opened the door.

“Marcela, you can’t mean to go somewhere with this man,” her father sputtered as he moved forward. “It’s past midnight and look how you’re dressed.”

She glanced down at her T-shirt and boxers and laughed mirthlessly. Foster had a feeling she was thinking,
If you only knew
. “Good night, Papá.”

She climbed in the car and slammed the door. Dr. Medina sent Foster a touch-my-daughter-and-die glare his way, but Foster wasn’t going to wait around for the man to grab his shotgun again. He snagged the car registration off the top of the hood and pulled open his door. “Sorry for the trouble.”

Without waiting for a response, he got into the car and shut the door. He gripped the wheel, still trying to process how he’d gone from saying good-bye to Cela for good to having her in his car. He turned her way. “What now, angel?”

“Just drive,” she said, staring out the front window.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter 36

I must be hallucinating. That was my first thought as I rode away from my shotgun-wielding father and realized I was now sitting next to Foster—Foster, who lived hours away from here and hadn’t spoken to me in over a month. Maybe someone had slipped something into my drink at the bar, and I was now passed out in the parking lot of The Rusty Wheel.

“So, you’re here,” I said, showing my penchant for brilliant conversation starters. Not that one really knew how to start a conversation when you found your ex-boyfriend being arrested in your front yard.

He gave me a sidelong glance, as if he were half-worried I’d come to my senses and jump out of the moving vehicle. “I am.”

“And my father almost shot you,” I said, going down the list of things I needed to establish before processing anything else.

“Well, I don’t think he would’ve really shot me. But yes, he threatened me with a gun, which I can respect—he thought I was a danger to you.”

I turned to him then, allowing myself to fully drink in his presence there. God, even my imagination hadn’t done him justice. He looked tired and his stubble was way past five o’clock, but every muscle fiber in me seemed to strain toward him, wanting to wrap myself around him. But that’s not who we were to each other anymore.

I glanced away, staring out at the reflective yellow line at the center of the road. “Are you a danger to me?”

“Cela.” He said my name with an ache in it.

“No, I’m serious,” I said, pulling my self-preservation armor around me, locking out the part of me that only wanted to remember the good stuff, the part that didn’t want to remember how mean he’d been the last time I’d seen him, how much he’d hurt me. “Why are you here? What were you doing on my street at midnight?”

He blew out a long breath and took a turn into an empty Home Depot parking lot, cutting off the engine. He focused on the empty, orange building in front of us. “I was here to see if you were doing okay, to make sure that when you told me you were happy here, that you really were.”

I frowned. “When I told you I was happy here? Foster we haven’t talked since—”

“It wasn’t Pike who texted you.”

I stared at his profile, not even sure what to do with that information. “Why would you do that?”

He faced me finally, his blue eyes almost black in the dark interior of the car, but I could see the remorse there. “I needed you to know that nothing happened with Bret. And I had to hear from you that you were okay. You had decided to stay in Dallas for more reasons than to be with me, and I felt responsible for chasing you back here.”

I sighed. “You didn’t chase me back here—at least, not totally. They gave the job to someone else. I didn’t have anything to stay for anymore.”

He leaned back in his seat, running a hand over his face. “I fucked everything up. I’m sorry. I told you from the start that you could slow down or back out at any time, and then when you did, I acted like an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

I pulled my legs onto the seat and sat my chin on my knees, feeling cold despite the warm night. “No, I didn’t. And when I saw that blonde walk into your building, I wanted to throw up, Foster.” I turned my head to face him. “All I wanted was time to think, and you called up another girl before I was even out the door.”

He looked my way, expression pained. “I can’t even tell you how sorry I am for that. Nothing happened with her. I promise you. Bret is the private investigator I hired to keep digging up leads on my sister’s case. We’re friends. That’s it.”

“Friends who’ve slept together,” I said flatly.

He grimaced.

The wordless answer was like a two-by-four swinging right into my gut. I looked away, clenching my jaw to keep stupid tears from appearing.

“But that was in the past, a long time ago. And nothing was ever like . . .”

“Like what, Foster?” I asked, needing him to finish that sentence, needing to know why he was here, tearing open this wound again.

“Are you happy, Cela?” he asked abruptly.

The question caught me off guard. “What?”

“The last thing I want to do is make this worse. And even though it was killing me not to talk to you, I was going to leave you alone, let you move on with your life. But then I got an email telling me you’d activated my anklet, and . . . I just needed to know for sure. Needed to see. Are you happy? Is this where you want to be? Work? Is that dentist who was kissing you tonight the kind of guy you want to be with?”

“The dentist . . .” My jaw went slack. “You
followed
me on my date?”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Yes. And I’m not going to make excuses to justify that. It was completely out of line. I know that. I’m acting like a crazy person. But my questions still stand. Are you happy here? Is this what you want?”

“Why do you care?” I asked, still in shock that he’d followed me. That he’d watched me kiss another guy.

He reached out and grasped my chin with gentle fingers, drawing my gaze to his intense one. “I care because if you’re happy, if this is what you want, I will drive you right back home and never bother you again. I will let you go.”

I blinked, the tears blurring my vision now.

“But if you’re not, if there’s even part of you that misses me half as much as I miss you, a part that lies awake at night and can’t stop thinking about how things were with us, then please God, tell me. Because I’m fucking miserable, Cela.”

I closed my eyes, unable to bear the weight of his stare, his words. My airway seemed to narrow to a pinhole. “Foster . . .”

“And I wish I could tell you that I’ll change everything. Especially after tonight, I can see how the dominant stuff would scare you off. I know I can be overbearing and high-handed. And I can be fucked up and paranoid about stuff sometimes. It’s a lot. And I would fix it if I could, but I don’t know how to be any other way.”

I couldn’t look at him. It was all too much. Having him here, hearing his voice, the sharp edge of sadness in his words.

“All I can tell you is that I never intended to lock you down or take away your independence. Your strength and stubbornness are part of what draws me to you. Even with the whole anklet thing, it was never a desire to keep tabs on you or intrude on your privacy. I just . . . I was falling in love with you, and it inspired every ounce of my protective streak.”

My eyes snapped open, my heart jumping right into my throat and the word
love
getting tangled in my synapses.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of something bad happening to you, of losing you.” He cradled my face in his palms, every line in his expression etched with regret. “And I lost you anyway. Because I’m an idiot. I chased you away before we even got a real chance.”

Moisture tracked along my cheeks. I said his name again, unable to put my thoughts in the right order.

“Are you happy, Cela?” he asked again, his own voice knotted with emotion now. “That’s all I need to know.”

I leaned forward, letting my forehead press to his. Everything felt so heavy all of a sudden—the move, my job, leaving Foster, dating again, trying to figure out what the hell I wanted out of my life. I wanted to curl in a ball and be back in my dorm freshman year when everything was simple and laid out and obvious. All possibility. No reality. “I don’t know what I am anymore. I’m lost.”

“Oh, angel,” he said softly. “I know what you mean.”

I pulled back and rested against my seat, the nearness of him too much to take for my wrung-out system. All I wanted to do was crawl into his lap and let him tell me everything was going to be okay. And that was exactly what always freaked me out with Foster. I didn’t want to be weak and need someone else like that. “I’m scared of how I feel when I’m with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did I ever tell you that my mom used to be a painter?”

He shook his head, leaning back in his own seat, giving me space.

“She was. She had a lot of talent and even got a scholarship to a school in New York. But she was already dating my dad, and he had a full ride to UT in Austin. She couldn’t get into the university because, though she was a brilliant artist, she sucked at things like math and science and didn’t have high enough scores. So she just gave it up for him, got a receptionist job in Austin and dedicated her life to being his wife. And they love each other, I know that. But she isn’t her own person anymore. He makes the decisions. She follows them. I know it tore her to pieces when he kicked my sister out, and she didn’t stand up to him. She didn’t stand up for her own daughter. I love her with all my heart, but I
cannot
become her.”

Foster’s mouth curved downward. “Baby, I hear what you’re saying, but you have to realize that you are so far from being at risk of that happening, it’s not even funny. You are tough and independent and hardheaded.”

“But when I’m with you, all I want to do is give in,” I fired back. “I fall to my knees willingly, I step past lines I never would’ve considered walking over, and I have this thing, this desire to please you, that scares the living shit out of me. I haven’t gone a day without thinking about you, Foster. And tonight, even after I
told
Mike not to walk me out, I found myself annoyed that he didn’t. I missed your crazy overprotectiveness. How messed up is that?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Did you just say you missed my crazy?”

I stared at him for a long second and then laughed some weird, tear-clogged laugh. I put my hands over my face. “Goddammit. I
do
miss it. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Cela,” he said, tugging one of my hands away from my face. “There’s nothing wrong with you. All of that stuff doesn’t mean you want to turn into some robot wife. You have a submissive side to you—a beautiful, dead-sexy desire to please. But the only time that’s dangerous or wrong is if you put it in the hands of someone who is going to exploit it. I would never want to change you or get in the way of your career or dreams. And it’s okay to want to be taken care of or protected sometimes. No one should have to take on the world all alone all the time.”

I looked at him. How many times had I imagined his face these last few weeks? How many times when I’d curled up at night had I wished he were there next to me? And though I liked Mike, I knew in my gut it was only friendship. When he’d kissed me tonight, there’d been none of that fire that was there when Foster simply brushed his lips over mine. Even just sitting here in the car with him had this hum of electricity moving through me.

But there was so much to think about, so many decisions already made. My job was here, my dad was counting on me. I had a house now. And Foster had said it himself, he was who he was. I either had to embrace his personality and dominance fully and accept what that brought out in me, or it’d never work.

I reached out and took his hand. “I don’t know if I’m going to have all the answers for you tonight. All I can offer you is honesty.”

“That’s all I’m asking, angel,” he said, lacing his fingers with mine.

“I’ve missed you so much, I can barely breathe through it sometimes,” I admitted. “When I lie in bed at night, it’s you who’s on my mind. And I’m wearing this anklet because I wanted to feel close to you again, and I can’t seem to take it off.”

He closed his eyes, his chest expanding with a deep breath, and brought my hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips over our entwined knuckles.

“And I’m not unhappy, but I’m not happy either. I haven’t been happy since that last morning I woke up next to you.”

His gaze met mine, naked emotion swirling in those blue depths. “Ditto.”

“And there’s a lot we need to talk about and consider. But it’s late, and it’s already been a long night for us both.”

He sighed, his expression turning resigned, and let go of my hand. “Right. Plus, I’m sure if I don’t take you home in the next ten minutes, your dad will probably send out a search party. Last thing I want is to cause you more trouble with him.”

Foster lifted his arm to turn the key, but I put my hand over his, stopping him. “I don’t want to talk anymore tonight. But I don’t want to go home either.”

He turned his head, brows knitted. “What?”

I wet my lips, the yearning that’d been building over all these weeks filling every pore of my body. I knew it probably wasn’t fair to ask, but I was done overanalyzing things tonight. Even if I didn’t know what the future would look like, right now I needed this. Him. “I don’t want either of us to face the world alone tonight, Foster. Let me stay with you.”

Awareness flickered over his features, like street lamps blinking on, and I saw my own yearning reflected back in him. He gave a quiet assent and turned the ignition.

Tonight, we wouldn’t be alone.