Anywhere But Here (27 page)

Shae

May 9

Present . . .

Primer splattered and I felt it speckle my face as I ran the roller up the wall. I wiped my forearm across my forehead, probably smearing it, and kept rolling. I was on the last section, almost all of the ocean blue paint that adorned the walls was covered and ready for a makeover. Liz and Cici were at the paint store picking up several buckets of pineapple cream, a soft beige color like white sand, and Turkish coffee for the trim and accents. It was a real deep, dark, rich taupe. We’d played with color samples, mixing and matching, before settling on the two. They were both warm, neutral colors that would work well with the relaxed, cozy, beachy atmosphere we were hoping to create.

The painting was just the first step, but already the vision in my head was coming to life. The construction and plumbing guys were here this morning, expanding our counter space, putting in sinks and outfitting us for an espresso set-up. Tomorrow our mission was furniture and décor, while hopefully they finished fitting the espresso bar. Wednesday, if all went as planned and the work was done, we could begin setting up our equipment, which was scheduled to be delivered then, and that would put us right on track with our health inspection on Friday.

Our biggest concern now was the book shipment. After countless phone calls, emails and rushed paperwork, we’d set up accounts with two different book distributors, and both were doing everything they could to rush us our first order, so our shelves would be stocked in time for Books ‘N’ Brew to officially open its doors on schedule. Of course if we didn’t have the books to go with our brew, it would be a flop and we’d have to postpone.

It was madness and so much still had to come together to make it happen in just under three weeks. We were all scrambling, but even as I did the mind-numbing job of rolling the brush up and down the walls, my thoughts weren’t on the millions of things still to be done. It kept straying to last night.

I pushed harder on the roller, milking every last drop of paint from the brush and working out some of my frustrations. When it ran dry, I smacked it down in the paint tray, sending a spray up over the sides and onto the drop cloth. I rolled it through the paint and then slapped it on the wall again, rolling fast and hard as I played over the scene on the porch. My arms and back ached with the unnecessary force I was putting behind the roller.

When the last strip of blue disappeared beneath the white primer, my shoulders sagged and I lowered the roller, once again wiping at, and probably further smearing, the paint on my face. The door chimed and I turned, expecting to see Cici and Liz, arms laden with buckets of paint, and instead came face to face with the source of my frustration.

Hands tucked into his pockets, he stood there, a grey tee stretched across his chest and shoulders, exposing those strong, inked arms. A black beanie was pulled low on his forehead, despite the sun that was shining down outside. A look of uncertainty shadowed his features.

“I thought I asked for time.” I’d meant more than a day. I wasn’t sure that a month would be enough for me to be ready to face him again.

“I know.” His boots sounded on the tile as he crossed the room toward me. “But I also know you, and the more time I give you, the more you’re going to work yourself up and then we’ll be right back where we were two weeks ago with you hating the sight of me.”

I straightened my shoulders defensively as he came to stand directly in front of me. “You don’t know me anymore.”

“Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you haven’t spent the last fourteen hours letting yourself get hot under the collar.” His brow arched and he cocked his head challengingly.

“How do you expect me to feel?” I bit out, setting the roller aside and folding my arms over my chest.

His lips twitched. “You know, you were always cute when you were pissed at me,” he reached for the damp rag sitting on the counter, “but the paint all over your face is even cuter.”

I snatched it out of his hands and scrubbed at my cheeks and forehead.

He gave his head a soft shake, and an airy chuckle fell from his lips. “Here, let me.” He took the rag from my hands.

I scowled. “I can do it.”

He ignored me, coming even closer, too close, and gently wiped at a few spots on my face. I made the mistake of breathing in through my nose, catching faint traces of something slightly spicy with an underlying, woodsy fragrance and a tinge of something sweet, maybe citrus. I fought the desire to close my eyes and breathe it in deeper. It was the kind of smell you wanted to wrap yourself in, light and masculine, not too strong or overpowering. It was a scent laundry detergent manufacturers had yet to market, but if they ever did, there wasn’t a female in the country who wouldn’t want to wash her bedding in it. I’d never get out of bed.

His thumb replaced the rag, brushing just below my bottom lip and it was enough to make me forget about how good he smelled and jerk myself away. His hand pulled back and he returned the rag to the counter. “I can see it in your eyes again,” he murmured, almost defeated.

“What?” I asked guardedly.

“All the walls are back up and you’re hiding the light again. You started to let them down on the beach and then last night on your front porch, you were letting me in.”

“The light’s been gone for a long time, and the walls, those are back up because you reminded me that I can’t trust you,” I bristled.

“I don’t get it, Shae. I thought telling you the truth would make it easier for you to understand. I thought it would take away some of the hurt.”

“You let me believe a lie for seven years, all because back then you weren’t man enough to just admit to my face that you didn’t want us.” I hated that my voice wavered and shook.

“How can you say that?”

“Because, you let me go! You didn’t fight for us!” My whole body was trembling now, humiliation compounding the anger, rising hot to the surface.

“I let you go because it was the right thing to do! Making you believe the lie was the only way I knew you would, because you deserved more. I was only ever going to hold you back.”

“No, you were a coward and you took the easy way out!” I shouted, igniting his anger and causing his temper to flare.

“Easy way out? Not one damn second of that was easy! It was fucking torture. I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. After you left, I woke up every single fucking day feeling like there was a chunk of me missing, this huge, gaping hole in my chest, and I thought it would get better. I thought it would go away, and I even believed it did, but then there you were, two weeks ago, your ass on the sidewalk, your eyes looking up at me with so much hate and it ripped me wide open again.”

“I don’t believe you!” I cried through the brimming tears. “You don’t lie to someone you love. You don’t manipulate them! You don’t hurt them the way you hurt me!”

“I had nothing to offer you back then. Not one damn thing.”

“But you! All I fucking wanted was you, but you were too stupid to see that, and you let it come between us. You decided what was best for me. You decided what was best for both of us, and you decided it was for us to not be together, and you decided it without me! If you had felt what I felt, you never could have done that, because I would have done anything, any-fucking-thing to keep you, to stay with you. But that’s not what you did. You let me talk about a future you knew we’d never have. You let me make plans for us. You let me believe that I was going to have everything I’d always wanted,” my voice broke and the first tear spilled over, taking with it the last bit of strength I was holding onto. “And then you took away the one thing I needed most, the one thing I never wanted to lose, that I wasn’t willing to give up, but you took it anyway, and when you did, you took away that light, and without it I was hollow.” I drew in a ragged breath.

“I didn’t know,” he rasped. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I just wanted you to have something better.”

“Well look at me!” I threw my arms out. “Does it look like that plan of yours worked out? Does it look like I found it? Seven years I haven’t been able to move on. Seven years I’ve been aching for something I thought I had, but slipped through my fingers because I’d been grasping at smoke. I wanted it to be real so bad. You convinced me it was.”

“It was real, and in case you hadn’t noticed, it still is. Seven years I’ve been aching for the same thing, trying to forget, because that would be better than this gnawing emptiness that never goes away. If I had known it was going to be like this, that missing you wouldn’t ever stop, I wouldn’t have done it. God, I wouldn’t have done it. At seventeen you knew, but I was afraid, Shae. I was afraid eventually I wouldn’t be enough for you, and the only thing I knew for certain back then was when that day came, and you left, like my mom left and my dad left and even Tucker checked out, it would have killed me. I didn’t know letting you go was gonna do the same thing anyway.”

I shook my head furiously. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters now, so why are you even doing this?”

“Because it does still matter, and that tattoo on your back proves it. Last night showed me, you’re still in there. When you got to town you were so angry and spiteful, I was sure the girl I used to know was gone, and I was prepared to deal with that, but last night I saw her. I’m ready to do what I didn’t do seven years ago. I’ll fight, Shae, because I know what I’m fighting for now.”

“No you don’t. You still don’t. You want that girl back, but she’s not here! The one who thought there was nothing better than holding your hand when we walked down the halls, the one that was terrified of you getting a motorcycle, because I knew you would wreck it, and you did! Damn it, just wear a helmet for fuck’s sake! You have Trinity to think about and what would she do if you got yourself killed on that thing?” I sucked in a deep breath and let it all out in one whoosh. “But you know what, if you want to be reckless and stupid, go ahead! Because I don’t care! I do not care! The me that cared, the me that thought we were going to be Peyton and Lucas, she . . . is . . . gone! You took everything good in her and you destroyed it!” My chest was heaving up and down, and the tears were still there, welling in my eyes, but I refused to let another one fall.

I don’t know what I expected to see on his face, but the tender gaze and soft smile that looked back at me was not it. “No, I didn’t, and thank God for that, but I’ve never been more sure that the girl I’m looking at now is the same one who stole my heart and never gave it back.”

“Then you’re fooling yourself,” I spit stubbornly.

“Really? Because I don’t know any other goof who would rescue a stripper one night and then go into business with her the next. Who the fuck does that, but you? And who else would ream me over wearing a helmet and then try to convince me she doesn’t care in the same breath?”

“That’s for Trin, I told you.”

“And what about the record player? That for Trin too?”

“I don’t know, she bought it.” I shrugged.

“Bullshit.”

“Then if you don’t want it, give it back.”

“No. You know damn well I want it.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means a hell of a lot to me.” I shrugged again and avoided his eyes. “Stop acting like you don’t care, Shae. You can lie to everyone else, but not me, because it won’t work. I know your smiles and your laughter, and I know your tears. I know you inside and out because you gave it all to me.” A shudder I couldn’t explain rocked through me. “Some things might have changed, baby, but your heart is still the same. I also know that seven years ago, after a lifetime of shit, Heaven decided to fucking smile on me and send me an angel, and I was done. Fucking done, Shae.

“You were it for me, but after a lifetime of shit, all I knew how to expect was shit, so I messed up, but what we had, what we felt, and I know you were right there with me, feeling it all the same as I was, something that runs that deep, something that buries itself in your chest and seeps into your fucking bones and becomes a part of you, making everything burn brighter and hotter, can’t just be flipped off like a switch, or put out like it’s nothing. You can try like hell, and God knows I tried. You can cover it up, you can wall it off, you can go on living your life, but that thing is still in there, smoldering under the surface, just waiting for a spark, or something to come along and light it again and remind you that nothing and nobody else will ever come close to making you feel that way. And when you came to town, with that first look, you struck a fucking match and tossed it, Shae. All you’ve been doing is lighting fucking matches.”

I shook my head, emitting a weary sigh. “I’ve been cold for a long time Kellen. Whatever we had, the only thing left burning is the anger, and I’m tired of even that. So, whatever you thought having this out would do, whatever you were hoping would happen, just don’t. It’s done and I need you to back off.”

“It’s not done, Shae. Not even close.” He leaned into me, leveling those soulful blue eyes on mine, and then brushed his lips over my cheek. Tingles shot out as he whispered in my ear, “Season five.”

When he pulled back, we locked gazes again and I tried to ignore the meaningful look in his. “Season five?”

He backed up slowly, his lips turning up at the corners. “Think about it.” He winked and then pivoted around, confidently striding toward the door. I didn’t have to think about it. His hands pushed on the door and he was almost clear, but something in me couldn’t help my stupid self.