Ready to Fall (9 page)

Which had made it all the more surprising when Brianna had suddenly left him for his best friend, Kellen. “I care about you, Chris,” Brianna had told him, apologetic but resolute. “Kellen, though . . . I
love
him. In a way I never loved you.”

When the new couple had begun planning their wedding, Chris had known he needed to leave Rockville. His sense of betrayal, disillusionment, and confusion had become too overwhelming. It was beginning to damage his working life and eat into his relationships with friends and family.

There has to be more to life than this
, he'd told himself as he considered what to do next.
Spending all day on the computer in my office isn't how I pictured my life. It isn't how I want to spend my time. I want to find work that brings me joy. A job that taps into my love of working with my hands and my body, as well as my brain
.

He'd tired of the city years ago. So when he'd searched for a new home, he'd looked at rural communities not too far from his parents. He'd seen Nice County, located near the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. As a kid, his parents had taken him biking along the path that followed the canal.

And then it had all become clear to him: He needed to move to Nice County and open up a bike repair shop. He could service all the cyclists who came for the path along the C & O Canal, as well as others who enjoyed flying up and down hilly country roads. Owning his own business would satisfy his need to work with his hands as well as his brain. The solitude would give him a chance to think and move past his bitterness.

Eventually, he'd look for a woman to share his life. But not anytime soon. Not until the pain of his lover's betrayal had faded.

Which raised a very important question: If he'd wanted to give himself time to recover, what was he doing here in Sarah's bathroom? Did he really think they had a chance at a future together?

He gave her cut one last swipe, and then threw out the disinfectant wipe. “All done.”

She didn't say anything for a minute, clearly still waiting for him to respond to her question. He didn't. Couldn't.

“Chris?” she finally asked. “Is there a problem?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “No. I just don't like talking about my time in Rockville.”

“What happened?” Her voice was quiet. Patient. But she clearly wasn't letting go of the topic as he'd hoped she would, which was no surprise. Sarah was nothing if not persistent.

Fine. He'd tell her what happened. He'd do it quickly and emotionlessly, and that would be the end of the discussion.

“I didn't repair bikes there. I worked at an engineering firm. I left because the woman I lived with chose my best friend over me. I wanted to start over, so I changed everything. My job. My town. My friends. Everything but my family.”

She laid a gentle hand on his chest. “Chris—”

“That's the whole story. Nothing more to say.”

Her mouth closed, and she stared at him with sharp, assessing eyes.

“Let's go back to bed.” He held out his hand to her.

She took it without another word and allowed him to lead her back to the bed and under the fluffy down comforter. He arranged himself behind her, tucking her small body into the crook of his. One of her chilly toes touched his shin. He winced, but made sure both her feet rested against his legs so they'd warm up more quickly.

Even after ten minutes of silence, she didn't relax into his embrace, and he didn't know why. At least, not until she began to talk. Not about his time in Rockville, since she obviously understood that he didn't want to discuss that anymore, but about her own history of romantic failure.

“You asked me yesterday why I thought my options were limited when it came to long-term relationships.” Her voice was quiet, and the open vulnerability in it made his chest ache. “Even if I met more possibilities at the library or school, the truth is that I'm too much for most men, Chris. Even the ones who initially say I'm funny or charming. . . I wear them out. Usually pretty quickly. So I want someone with a high tolerance for drama and passion. Someone who doesn't want it easy. Someone who won't get tired of the sound of my voice within a couple of weeks.”

He went still, understanding for the first time the depth of Sarah's insecurity. Understanding for the first time why she was pursuing a man she didn't really seem to want.

For most of his adult life, he'd have given anything for a woman with her sort of passion, playfulness, and brutal honesty. And she was telling him various exes had tossed her aside in a matter of days? No wonder she'd decided to pursue safety over passion and a man she merely liked over a man she truly desired.

With a sigh, she wiggled closer to him. “That's what I want. I thought you should know.”

He didn't respond, feigning sleep. Before long, her exhaustion caught up with her, and he could hear her breathing turn deep and even, punctuated by occasional little snuffles.

He lay still, his eyes wide open and his thoughts clear for the first time in two days.

Sarah had just explained to him in plain terms why she wanted another man. Why she was choosing her goddamn gym teacher over Chris. And she'd done it while cuddled close in Chris's arms, in the bed where they'd made love. Which seemed unusually cruel for Sarah, but maybe she'd thought she could soften the blow by at least spending the night with him.

He had to give her credit for her honesty. Clearly, she hadn't wanted to lead him on or make him believe they could have a future together, despite what had just happened between them. But the pain of her rejection sliced through him, destroying the fragile hope that had grown over the course of the past two days.

What the fuck is wrong with me?
he asked himself.
Did I really let myself fall for another woman who wants another man? Didn't I learn my lesson the first time?

He stared at the top of Sarah's head in the dark. He'd planned to stay away from dating and relationships until his bitterness over Brianna and Kellen had faded. So how had he managed to wind up in another woman's bed so quickly? Was Sarah just so irresistible? Was he just so weak?

Both, probably. Sarah resembled no other woman he'd ever dated. Dramatic, feisty, loud, and determined, she wouldn't ever lead a calm, quiet life with a man. No, a life with her would ring with laughter, bickering, and general upheaval. And that didn't sound so bad to him, actually. With Sarah nearby, his day had seemed brighter. Richer. More full of... everything. And on top of all that, she was the sexiest woman he'd ever seen. A man would have to be a fool to pass her by.

Chris was many things, but he wasn't a fool. Not usually.

The problem was that a man could be a fool in more than one way. He could be a fool to overlook a woman as vibrant and charming as Sarah. Or he could be a fool to pursue a woman who resembled his ex in at least one way. A big way. A crucial, heartbreaking way.

Sarah Mayhew was a woman who wanted another man.

And he refused, absolutely refused, to watch another woman he cared about choose someone else over him. Not if he could avoid putting himself in that situation. In this case, he could. It was simple. He could just respond to Sarah's cue and walk away. Now.

Her rejection shouldn't surprise him, really. Neither one of them had made promises. She'd told him from the beginning that she was pursuing someone else. For God's sake, it was the reason they'd met in the first place. In turn, he'd told her at their first meeting that he had no interest in dating, much less anything more serious.

Sex with her had been a mistake. But it didn't need to become an irretrievable one. He needed to get out before the morning came. Before his heart became even more entangled with the woman in his arms. Before she turned once and for all to Ulysses. He wasn't what she wanted, and she couldn't give him what he wanted. It was clear. Straightforward. Obvious.

He took a last minute to feel her warmth in his arms and inhale the smell of her berry-scented shampoo. To look at her tangled blond hair and the small hand curled loosely on the sheet in front of her. To remember the sparkle in her eyes and the quick wit he had found both amusing and frustrating. To think about what could have been.

And then he got up out of bed, gathered his belongings, and left her house while he could still make himself go.

Sarah knew it before she even opened her eyes. Chris's large, warm frame no longer cradled her from behind. She couldn't hear a single sound in the house. More than that, though, the air itself felt different. Whenever the two of them shared a room, the atmosphere somehow grew charged and heavy.

Just more of your dramatics
, she told herself, blinking back tears.
That doesn't really happen
.

It felt like it, though, every time she was near Chris. It really did.

She reluctantly rolled out of the bed, which still smelled like him. Like them. As she did, she noticed a pile of money and a slip of paper on her dresser. He'd given back the five hundred dollars she'd paid him last night. And left her a note, apparently. One featuring his usual level of chattiness:

Her heart cracked a little at the impersonality of the words. At the brusque dismissal of their two days together, their lovemaking, and . . . her. He'd dismissed her.

Late last night, she'd formulated plans for today. After some truly stellar morning sex, he'd have to grab breakfast on the run before heading to work. Then—since her shift at the library didn't begin until two o'clock that afternoon—she'd make up some excuse to stop by his shop and keep him company for a good chunk of the day. She'd been considering hitting her bike frame with something heavy. When she saw Chris, she'd claim the damage had happened during her fall. Then she'd ask him to repair her bike, they'd talk, they'd go get lunch together, and . . .

She shook her head, impatient with herself. It didn't matter now. It wasn't going to happen. Any of it. He clearly didn't want her. In fact, he was essentially tossing her to another man hours after having had sex with her. She shouldn't be surprised, either. His reluctance to share any of his own past last night should have warned her that he only wanted sex.

If you want to ride, you have to take the chance you might fall.
And God help her, she'd fallen three separate times. Off her bike, into bed, and for her riding teacher.

Absently, she rubbed a bruise on her arm. Without that fall from her bike, he'd never have come to her apartment. Never have stripped off her clothes. Never have pressed her down into the bed and made her come like she'd—

Shit. Now she was depressed
and
horny.

What to do now? She squinted at the clock. A few minutes after six. Eight hours until her library shift began. Nothing in particular to do. No one to do it with.

In the absolute silence of her house, she managed to get dressed in a T-shirt and yoga pants. She went out to get a bagel, hoping some carbtastic goodness would make her feel better. She drove back home calmly. She ate her bagel.

Then she crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Only then, absolutely certain not a single living soul could see her, did she allow herself to break down in helpless, heartbroken sobs.

* * *

Chris spent another quiet day at his shop. A few minor bike repairs for tourists who'd visited over the Fourth of July holiday. A couple of confused locals who wandered in, hoping he sold cycling equipment. A long, viciously hard ride during his lunch break.

Too hard, actually. He sweated too much; pushed himself too far. And for the first time since he'd started riding as a kid, he'd had to ditch his bike by the side of the road so he could double over and vomit. His legs cramping, he crawled over to a tree-shaded spot at the edge of a cornfield and drank a gallon of the sports drink he'd brought. It took a good fifteen minutes before he could get back on his bike.

But he made it back to his shop in time for a quick, cool shower before reopening promptly at one o'clock. Then he had nothing left to do but listen to his own thoughts.

They all centered on one woman. The one he'd left just hours ago in the hushed darkness of her home. The only one he'd let beneath his guard in months.

Sarah.

After their lovemaking, he'd felt so certain they could have a future together. Certain that he could move past his lingering bitterness from the breakup with Brianna, and certain that Sarah would abandon her pursuit of Ulysses. Because the sort of emotional connection Chris had with Sarah, the sort of electricity they generated when they were within shouting distance of one another—it wasn't typical. Wasn't something to be dismissed lightly.

She'd dismissed it just the same. Not lightly. No, she'd sounded tentative and oh-so-serious when she'd explained to him why she wanted Ulysses. But he couldn't mistake her meaning or ignore the hint. She'd wanted him gone, sooner rather than later. So he'd walked away.

And now he couldn't seem to get rid of a hollow ache in his chest, no matter what he did.

When his cell rang shortly before closing time, he almost didn't answer it. At the best of times, he hated to chat on the phone, and now was certainly not the best of times. When Helen's name appeared on the screen, though, he reconsidered.

He needed a distraction. Maybe she could provide it. Even if the thought of Helen conjured up images of that evening at Minnie's Mini-Golf, Sarah's hand in his, their kiss in the parking lot . . .

Fuck.

After three rings, he answered the call. “What's up, Helen?”

“What the hell, Chris?” Helen's angry voice nearly deafened him.

Jerking the phone away from his ear, he turned on the speaker. “Jesus, Hel! You nearly burst my eardr—”

She barreled on, completely ignoring his complaint. “I sent Sarah to you because I thought you were a good guy. A bitter one, sure. But I thought you deserved a little self-pity party after getting the shit kicked out of you in Rockville. And behind that cranky wall of taciturn manhood you've got going on, I thought there was a nice guy. One who needed a woman like Sarah in his life, and who would appreciate having her there.”

He glared at the phone. “So you
were
setting us u—”

“But it turns out you're just a bastard the whole way through.” Her voice turned even harder, if possible. “How'd it feel, Chris? Did it feel good to fuck a vulnerable woman and leave her with a one-line fucking note? Did that somehow make all your hurt disappear?”

Wes had told him that beneath Helen's usual sweetness, she had one hell of a temper. Honestly, Chris hadn't truly believed it. Every time he'd ever seen the woman, she'd seemed like one of the most patient people on the face of the Earth.

He believed it now. But he didn't understand where the hell all that rage was coming from, and he wasn't going to be yelled at for something that wasn't his fault.

With an effort, he kept his voice at a reasonable volume. “You need to slow the fuck down, Helen. I don't know what Sarah told you, but I didn't—”

“She cried when I talked to her just now.
Cried
.” Helen sounded on the verge of tears herself, her words shaking with more than rage. “I've never heard Sarah cry before. Not when she fell on some ice a couple of winters ago and broke her arm in three places. Not when she scrubbed her face with fucking poison ivy. Not when an asshole she'd dated for over a month dumped her via a text, saying no man would ever put up with her for longer than he had.”

Even through his anger and confusion, he couldn't help but cringe. The thought of Sarah in tears . . . God, it ripped at him, twisting his guts into a knot. And he couldn't even imagine how betrayed and hurt she'd felt at such cruelty from a man she'd trusted enough to date for a month.

Helen's voice lowered to a ragged whisper. “She never cried. Not once in all the years I've known her. But she did tonight. I can't believe I'm the one who put her in the position to be hurt. I can't believe I was so wrong about you, Chris.”

And then she hung up on him.

Chris stared at the silent phone on his counter, completely shell-shocked. She thought Sarah had cried over
him
? After Sarah had essentially told him he was a one-time fuck, a temporary amusement until she pursued a real relationship with Ulysses?

He shook his head. No way. Helen must have gotten confused. And he was going to clear the whole thing up for her right fucking now.

She didn't answer when he called her back. So he called Wes instead, hoping his friend might be able to explain the situation to Helen.

Wes didn't sound particularly welcoming on the phone, either. “This better be good, dude. Because I've got an angry, crying girlfriend here who's about one strawberry daiquiri away from driving to your house and setting it on fire. And I consider Sarah my friend too, so I'm not exactly thrilled that you pulled a fuck-and-run with her.”

“That's just it, man. I
didn't
.” Chris ran a hand through his hair, gripping the ends so hard he almost ripped out a chunk. “Well, I guess I did. Technically. But only because Sarah wanted me gone. Right before she fell asleep, she told me so.”

“Hold on.” A minute of silence before Wes came back on the line. “Don't lie to me, Dean. Helen called Sarah at Battlefield and threatened to camp on her doorstep until she explained what had happened, so Sarah told her everything. And there was absolutely nothing in there about rejecting you. Precisely the opposite, as a matter of fact.”

What did
that
mean? The opposite of rejection?

Either Sarah was lying to her friends, or she and Chris had done a piss-poor job communicating with one another. And Sarah wasn't a liar.

Closing his eyes, Chris took a deep breath. “Okay. Let me explain to you what I think happened last night, and then you can tell me what Sarah said.”

“I'm putting you on speaker so Helen can listen,” Wes said.

“Let's hear it.” Helen still sounded mightily pissed off.

“I liked Sarah right away. Thought she was funny and hot. Kind, too.” His hands braced on the counter, he stared out into the empty parking lot. “But I told myself not to get too involved with her. Because you're right. I'm still damaged from what happened in Rockville. Which means the last thing I need is a woman who wants another man. But after spending time with her, I . . .”

His chest heaved in a deep sigh. “I was hoping maybe she'd change her mind about the fucking gym teacher. So we”—he paused—“were together. But right before we went to sleep, she started talking. I'd asked her a couple of days ago why she considered that guy her only real possibility for a long-term relationship. She answered the question last night. Told me the reasons she thought he was a good match for her. Then she went to sleep.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

Then Helen spoke, her voice tentative. “Um, Chris, I think—”

But by then he was getting a little angry again. “So don't you yell at me for leaving, Helen. She made it clear that it was a one-time thing between the two of us, and that she was still going after goddamn Ulysses. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”

“Dude.” Wes sounded much more sympathetic this time, which made his next words all the more surprising. “You're a fucking moron.”

“I've got this now, sweetheart,” Helen said. “Listen, Chris. Sarah just told me the same exact story, with one crucial difference. That conversation wasn't about telling you why she was still pursuing Ulysses. She was trying to tell you what she needed in a potential boyfriend. Trying to share her vulnerabilities with you so you could decide whether you could handle them. Handle her. In a relationship. A relationship with
you
, you dense mutant-man.”

“Thus the whole ‘you're a fucking moron' thing,” Wes added. “You interpreted what she said the worst possible way, and didn't even bother asking her to explain herself. You just left.”

Chris's head dropped to his chest. Oh, God. Now that he thought back on that conversation, she hadn't actually mentioned Ulysses at all, had she?

No. She'd shared what she wanted in a man, and then said, “I thought you should know.”

You.
Meaning him. Because she was trying to ask him whether he thought he would be interested in a relationship with her. And his response had been to walk out on her in the middle of the night, leaving behind only a brusque, one-line note.

Yes, she could have stated her intentions more clearly. But, hell, she'd been injured and exhausted. She'd probably been unsure what he really wanted from her, given the mixed signals he'd been sending her way for the past two days. And she'd probably wanted to give herself some emotional protection if he wasn't interested after all.

So he'd hurt her. Inadvertently, but he'd done it.

And he had no idea what to do next.

“Chris?” Helen's voice had warmed considerably. “This sounds like a misunderstanding. I think you can fix it.”

“Maybe.” He looked down at the counter, flicking a piece of dust to the side. “I'm just not sure I should.”

“What do you mean?” Wes sounded befuddled.

“Maybe I'm just too fucked up for a relationship right now. I mean, look at what just happened. I took the first excuse I found to cut and run, without even giving her a chance to explain. She deserves better than that.” Raising a hand, he gripped the back of his neck. “I don't want to hurt her again. It kills me that I made her cry. That I made her feel rejected.”