The instant I realized the towering form standing in my doorway rubbing his forehead was not Justin, I started to giggle. Uncontrollable, high-pitched, maniacal giggles coming from some deep and repressed place within my chest. I slid to the floor, leaning against the back of my couch, feeling Lawrence’s glare.

  “The fuck, queenie?”

  The giggles turned to tears, and he sank down beside me as I sobbed. His arm slid around my shoulders and pulled me into his lap as my emotions poured out painfully. It was the first time I’d really cried in… years, I thought.

  How long we stayed that way, I had no idea. I might have even drifted off for a minute or two. I finally raised my head when I felt his lips press against my hair.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded, wiping my face with the sleeve of my sweater. His body tensed and shifted away from mine.

  “What the hell is that?” His voice grew louder as he moved farther from me.

  I blinked and looked down at myself, unsure what he was referring to. A long red mark disappeared down into the neckline of my dress. I hadn’t realized until then just how rough Justin had been.

  I started to tremble as I thought back to my stupidity, my naivety. Lawrence’s arms tightened around me once more.

  “Hey, seriously. Are you okay? You’re worrying me, sweetheart,” he mumbled into my hair.

  I nodded again and pushed off him to stand, wobbly on my feet. He watched me cautiously as he stood as well.

  “I’m fine,” I said, mostly reassuring myself. And I found that I really was. “It’s been a long day and a stupid night. I just need a shower. I’ll be all right after a shower.”

  “Do you need help?”

  I started to chuckle and pushed at his chest. He captured my hand in his.

  “No, I don’t need help, you pervert.”

  He cradled my hand in both of his and kissed my fingers. “I didn’t mean in the shower. Although I do live to serve.” The twinkle in his blue eyes made me realize how much I’d missed him. “I just meant… I don’t know what I meant, but is there something I can do?”

  “No I’m good. You can”—I waved my free hand around—“make yourself at home, and I’ll be right out.”

  He nodded and let me step away to wash off the ick from earlier.

  I rinsed as fast as I could, the water scalding my skin in the best possible way. I dried and lotioned myself and walked into my bedroom wrapped in a towel. Where Lawrence was propped up in my bed, watching.

  “Dude!” I screeched, laughing and clutching my towel tighter.

  “I can’t believe you still have these sheets.” He waved a hand around my pink bed.

  “I can’t believe you’re in my bed.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “You said for me to make myself at home. This is what I came up with.”

  “You feel at home on my pink sheets?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “No, I feel at home watching you come out of the shower.”

  I snorted and grabbed some clothes from my dresser drawer, stomping back to the bathroom to change.

  I returned to my room in an oversized sweatshirt and a baggy pair of sweatpants. Lawrence was still watching with amusement. He patted the bed next to him, and for some reason, I climbed right in, leaning my head on his shoulder.

  “What are we doing?” I asked, staring straight ahead.

  “Just talking.”

  “Why are we in my bed?”

  “Because it’s the only place that’s you in this entire house, so it’s the only place I feel comfortable.”

  I turned to face him. “You don’t even know me. Not really. Not anymore.”

  “I don’t think you even know yourself anymore.”

  My body stiffened, his words hitting too close to home.

  He rubbed a hand down my arm. “I’m not saying that to hurt you, Steph. But… what the fuck is going on? What are you doing to yourself? And what the fuck is that scratch down your chest?”

  I let out a long sigh. “The scratch is just a scratch. It’s no big deal.”

  “What about everything else?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, let’s figure it out.”

  I struggled out of the bed, stomping off into the kitchen for a drink.

  “It’s not that easy, Lawrence,” I called over my shoulder. “Not everything is fixable.”

  He called back from his place on my bed. “You’re right. Not everything is. But this is.”

  I returned to the bedroom with two beers, passing one over to him and sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, facing him.

  “What, exactly, needs to be fixed?”

  “You do.” He tipped his bottle at me before taking a long swallow.

  “That’s horribly offensive.”

  “Truth hurts.”

  “Why are you here?” I raised my voice, exasperated.

  He just looked at me for a second, then said, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Steph. Since last summer. Even when I shouldn’t have. Seeing you last night… everything came rushing back. When I touched you… it all came back. I want it back.”

  “We can’t go back, Lawrence. I can’t. It’s too much.”

  “I’m not talking about going back. I’m talking about helping you move forward.”

  “I don’t need help.” I shook my head.

  “Yes. You do. You’re a wreck.”

  I started to laugh. “You’re such an asshole.”

  “If my being an asshole means you get your shit together, then I’m fine with that.”

  I considered his words for a moment. “Everything’s messed up,” I finally confessed. “And it’s my own fault.”

  “So fix it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You and the fixing. Life doesn’t work that way.”

  “It can. If you stop fucking wallowing.”

  I flinched and felt anger creeping through my veins. “Wallowing? Really? Do you understand the shit storm I went through? I couldn’t walk through town without getting stares and whispers. My mistake caused a woman to almost lose her business, and that kid could have died.”

  “But did he die?” Lawrence’s voice started to rise to match mine.

  “No. But my dad did,” I shot back.

  Silence.

  “And how do you feel about that?”

  “Oh, fuck you.” I rolled my eyes and started to push off the bed, but Lawrence leaned forward to grab my thigh, holding me in place.

  “I mean it. How do you feel about your dad?”

  “I don’t care!”

  “Bullshit.”

  “My dad was an asshole. I barely knew him.”

  “It still hurts. How’s your mom?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t even know. I can’t imagine she was too broken up about things. They weren’t even married anymore.”

  Lawrence blinked a few times. “That’s fucked up.”

  I threw up my hands. “See? That’s my point. It’s really fucked up. I’m allowed to be fucked up. It’s not normal that I should be okay coming out of a situation like that.”

  “You have a point.”

  “I know.”

  “But you also have a choice.”

  I sighed and moved his hand off my thigh, however much I wanted it there. I turned around and hung my legs off the side of the bed.

  “I have a job here. A life.”

  “You hate it. A life? What kind of life is this?”

  I shook my head in confusion. “I mean, I’m alive. I live here. I do my job. I breathe… my heart beats. Life.”

  He stared at me hard. “There’s so much more to life than that, Steph. You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t lost in life? Fuck.” He threw up his hands. “Your soul. That’s what matters. Whether or not your heart is beating is just physical. It’s a muscle you don’t even control. That’s nothing to take pride in. But your soul and your mind—now those… those are impressive things to change. Those are elements that… move me.”

  I shrugged, though his words made my little black heart flutter and my stomach clench and rebel. My mind was racing, but my mouth didn’t get the memo. “It doesn’t really matter. I have a contract here. I don’t really have anywhere else to go. Anything else to do.”

  “I thought you loved helping people.”

  “I still help people. Just in a different way.”

  He snorted behind me, and I felt the shift in the bed as he stood.

  “You know what?” he asked as he walked around to the bedroom door. He lifted his hands above the door frame and leaned against it, his back to me. “You’re right. I can’t help you move forward. Only you can do that. The girl I knew kicked ass and would never let herself wallow in misery for months on end. Quit punishing yourself. Get over yourself. And if you figure that out, if you find that girl you used to be, give me a call.”

  And he walked out.

  And that was the time I got dumped twice in one night.

  * * * *

  Lawrence

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Tina. She’s just an old friend.” I rolled my eyes inwardly.

  “I’m not an idiot, Lawrence. And I don’t think my father would approve.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Your father has nothing to do with us. At all.”

  She huffed as she sat back in her airplane seat, allowing us to resume blissful silence. We were flying back to Kentucky after a range of successful meetings for me. I’d brought Tina because I needed a date for some of the functions. But I’d rather I hadn’t. Now anyway.

  I was still so fucking mad at Steph. And it alternated between turning me on and pissing me off. She was the most frustrating woman I’d ever met and was never far from my thoughts. I hadn’t actually beaten a dead horse before, but suddenly the phrase made a whole lot of sense. My heart raced when I saw her, every time. I’d never forget her, would never be able to cut all my ties from her, but I was done trying to talk her into something she clearly didn’t want.

  “Lawrence?” Tina drawled in a saccharin tone, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  I turned my head to look at her. She let her fingertips trail over my shoulder.

  “I didn’t mean to be so possessive. I know you aren’t looking for anything serious. Neither am I, honestly. But I flew all the way out here with you. And we spend a lot of time together. Our families know each other. I think we owe it to each other to… at least admit we’re more than friends. Don’t you think?”

  I nodded absently.

  “Yeah, friends isn’t the right word.”

  She leaned over and kissed my cheek, bouncing in her seat. “Excellent. Then can you come to my birthday dinner next week?”

  I nodded again. “Sure, why not.”

  Chapter 14

  Three Months Later

  Steph

  It was the night before Thomas’s first birthday. He was the beautiful demon child who made Ethan and Lissa’s lives alternately happy and miserable. In all seriousness, he’d been sick, like from day one, and my best friend was a total trouper. He’d been doing better though, so they were having a small get-together to celebrate.

  Lissa warned me that Lawrence would be in attendance.

  I hadn’t spoken to him in months or even attempted contact. The words he’d said as he left that night had hurt, deeply. But he was right.

  I’d been working on finding myself again. On being a person I liked. I was still a work in progress, but I was feeling a little more positive. I did stop spiking my coffee. During the day anyway.

  Like a coward, I’d sent Lawrence a text earlier, asking if he’d come over so we could talk. I didn’t know what to say, but I didn’t want to see him for the first time over at our friends’.

  I made way too much effort to look cute, but not like I’d tried too hard. Like maybe I dressed this way all the time to sit around my house, when in actuality I wore pajamas most of the time. I had on white short shorts and a big slouchy sweater thing that hung off one shoulder. It was very Victoria’s Secret model-y, or it would be if I were a foot taller and had boobs.

  I had a tiny bit of makeup on, and my hair was piled messily on top of my head. My house was super clean and tidy, and I even had some dinner in the oven in case he wanted to stay and eat. I was being stupid.

  Finally I poured myself a glass of wine and flipped on the TV to wait. He was coming straight to my house after his drive and then grabbing a room at one of the small inns in town and sticking around for a few days.

  Despite having waited for what seemed like forever, the knock on my front door startled me, sending my heart fluttering slightly.

  I set my glass down and straightened my shorts as I stood, then adjusted my sweater to show a little more bare shoulder. Don’t judge me.

  Clearing my throat and rolling my shoulders, I swung open the door. I tried to hide the sharp intake of breath that filled my lungs, but I couldn’t help my eyes sweeping him from head to toe.

  He looked… the same. His same lean self, his arms defined, shoulders broad, filling my doorframe. He was wearing dark jeans, frayed at the cuffs, and a plain white T-shirt that looked soft and touchable. His blue eyes held a glint of humor that contrasted with the edge he carried around with his shaven head. When I finished my perusal, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked in my eyes, his lips spreading into a grin. His jaw had some scruff on it. I was totally into it.

  “Hey,” I said quietly with a smile of my own. I stepped back and opened the door wider to allow him in.

  As he walked through the door, he leaned over and kissed my cheek. My stupid heart fluttered again and I inhaled his scent, a fresh, sandalwood type.

  “You smell awfully good for someone who’s been driving all day,” I blurted without thinking.

  He chuckled as he found his way into my kitchen, opening the fridge and helping himself to a beer. I watched him with my arms crossed over my chest, lips pursed. He still hadn’t actually uttered a word.

  “Make yourself right at home.”

  “How you doing, sweetheart?” he finally asked, making himself comfortable on the couch.

  I cocked my head. “I’m okay,” I said, walking over to pick up my wineglass. I moved to sit on the very opposite side of the couch, pulling my knees up and to the side. Then I hugged a throw pillow into my lap as a security blanket. “Thanks for coming.”

  He nodded slowly. “I’m glad you got in touch. Finally.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have sooner. I just… I just had a lot of stuff to figure out.”

  “And did you? Figure things out?”

  I smiled a little. “I’m getting there.”

  He chewed his lower lip. “Why am I here, Steph?”

  “You’re here because I didn’t want to bring this”—I waved between us—“to Lissa and Ethan’s when they’ve been through enough.”

  Lawrence took a deep breath, standing and pacing across the room to prop a hip on the windowsill across from me. He started fiddling with his beer bottle and looked up at me from beneath his lashes. The twinkle in his eye was gone, replaced by seriousness.

  “That’s why I’m here? To make nice so we don’t cause a scene tomorrow?”

  “Well, yes. No… I…” My words fumbled as my mind scrambled to keep up.

  He walked past me into the kitchen, and I heard him toss his bottle in the trash. Walking back into the room, he stopped, hands in his pockets.

  I didn’t say anything right away, just watched him walk to the front door and swing it open.

  “I’m trying,” I finally said, quietly.

  He paused when the sound of my voice carried to him.

  Without him turning around, I saw his head dip down.

  “Want me to pick you up tomorrow before the party?” he asked.

  I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me. “Sure.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

  * * * *

  A morning when you realize you’re out of coffee is never a good one. The real bummer was that I’d known I needed some yesterday, but the thought got lost somewhere throughout the day. I held Lawrence responsible.

  I still wasn’t sure how I felt about our non-conversation yesterday. I did know that I’d never figure any of it out without coffee. I looked down at my sloppy, bright pink sweatshirt with Book Whoreder scribbled across the front, courtesy of Lissa, and black yoga shorts. It wasn’t the most inappropriate thing I’d ever worn in public, anyway. I grabbed my phone and some cash, slid on flip-flops, and skipped out the door to hop in my car and drive to the local coffee shop.

  I hugged myself, trying to snuggle into my sweatshirt until I could climb into the driver’s seat and make the short journey. The air was humid, but there was still an early-morning damp chill. To me anyway. It was only six fifteen, so while the coffee shop did, thankfully, open at six, that didn’t mean most normal people were up and about on a Saturday. I was always a bizarre morning person. I got grumpy if I accidentally slept in. It would feel like the day was wasted, even if I had nothing to do. Who would want to waste the luxury of doing nothing?

  The bells on the door to the shop clinked and jingled when I pushed it open, and I smiled at some of the regulars at their tables reading the paper. I didn’t read the paper, but I liked to see people doing it. I loved the sound it made when they rustled the paper to flip it inside out. I remembered my dad sitting on the couch some mornings, reading the news. Even though he sucked, it still made me nostalgic and reminded me of childhood simplicity. It’s not like my childhood was horrible. I wasn’t beaten or abused. But it was nondescript, lacking in joy. Even with that, it was simple. Kids tend to look at things without complicating them.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24