Falling (Fading Series) (28 page)

“Candace!” I yell after her as the car pops the curb when Jase hits the main street.

She’s gone, and I don’t have a clue what the hell is going on, but I’m freaked out at what I just saw. I don’t even think about going back in, I just take the keys that are in my pocket to go to the one place I know she’ll be.

While I drive to Jase’s apartment building, hitting every damn red light, I replay what happened and try to figure out what she saw that triggered her like that. I pull up to the building and throw my car in park when it hits me.

Holy shit.

Chills prick my arms, and I swear my gut hollows out when the memory of that night floods me.

Oh my God.

She was standing right there. She’s small. She’s timid. Scared.

No. Get your shit together. It’s not her.

My mind is racing faster than I’m able to keep up with. I feel like I’m out of my body and can’t decipher reality from my fucked up head-trips. If Candace was
her,
I would know.

I would know, right?

I sit in my car as I feel my emotions swarm into a rotation of visions I wish I could just forget. All I can see is that girl. Her beaten face, her naked, bloody body.

“Fuck!” I slam my fists into the steering wheel, desperately trying to rid the memories, but they’re too vivid. I don’t even want to think about that girl being Candace. It’s too fucked up. Pressing my palms against my forehead, I attempt to pull myself together. I know Candace is with Jase, and I just want her to be with me.

Pressing my head back against the seat, I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt to refocus on the fact that Candace is upset and that I need to get my shit together and quick. I take a few moments and sit here in silence before I finally get out of my car.

On the elevator ride up, I take some deep breaths, and calm myself before I knock on the door. When Jase opens it, he immediately tells me, “Man, it’s not a good time.”

But I don’t care. I just want her. “Where is she?” I ask as I move past him and start walking to his bedroom when I see she isn’t in his living room.

“Ryan, just give her space,” he yells out to me, but I don’t even acknowledge him when I open the door to his room and see my girl sitting on the edge of the bed sobbing.

The sight of her slows me down—stops me. She looks up, and her face is soaked with tears. I feel like the slightest move on my part could snap her, so I gently shut the door behind me and walk over, kneeling on the ground in front of her. I brace my hands on her knees, and I’m at a loss with her. Confused. But she doesn’t let me dwell on it when she opens her mouth and begins to cry out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m . . .”

I reach my arm behind her back and drag her off of the bed and onto my lap. “What happened, babe?”

“I’m so sorry,” she continues to say with her hands masking her face.

I hold on to her while she cries, and I’m desperate for answers. Wrapping my hands around her wrists, I move her hands from her face so I can see her. I hate that she’s hiding from me. “I need you to talk to me.”

She avoids my eyes when she tries explaining, “I just . . . I got myself too worked up and had a panic attack. I know you wanted me there tonight, but I couldn’t.”

She’s still hiding from me, and I’m unsure of how much I should push the issue, so I simply ask, “Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

“I was embarrassed,” she says when she finally looks at me. “This has happened a few times in the past, but only Jase knows that I have these.”

My gut is telling me not to believe her. That she’s lying to me. But hearing the pain in her words makes the lie okay in a way. She’s not opening up to me, and I need her to so badly. Have her trust me. Have her run to me instead of Jase. So I tell her that because I don’t know what else to say to her.

“You could’ve come to me. Jase isn’t the only one you have, you know? I need you to trust me enough to talk to me. I understand you and Jase, but I know how I feel about you.” I tell her this because watching her run away from me like she did hurt. Like I’m not enough for her to want me like that, and I need her to, for me.

“I want you to need me more than him,” I finally tell her, hoping I didn’t just sound like an ass for saying it, but I have to say it.

“He’s all I’ve ever had.”

When she says this, I know I have a lot to prove to this girl who clearly doesn’t trust so easily. I take her hand and press it against my chest, needing her to know how serious I am when I say, “You have me now too.”

I know my words get through to her when she fists my shirt in her hand and slings her other arm around my neck, hugging me close. I feel her tears running down my neck as I hold on to her, so I sit here with her on the floor until she calms down and relaxes under my arms.

Brushing her hair behind her shoulder, I kiss her below her ear before whispering, “Let’s go home.”

She pulls back and looks up at me. I wipe her cheeks and cup her face in my hands when she says, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hearing those selfless words does something to me. And I’m becoming more aware, every day that I have with her, just how much I’m feeling for her.

I press my lips against hers because I don’t know how to respond to her words. So I kiss her, but I don’t move, I just take in the warmth of her lips against mine, and it’s all I need right now. This is enough.

Coming back to my place, Candace is still being very quiet, but I’m not saying much either. I watch as she walks up to my room, and I give her some space while I grab a beer from the fridge. When I do head upstairs, she’s in the bathroom with the door shut, taking a shower. I’m noticing that she takes a lot of those, but figure that right now, she probably wants to be left alone.

I go back downstairs and flop down on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels before stopping on ESPN. I can’t even focus because my head is still upstairs with Candace. I keep replaying what I saw from Michael’s office over and over until I hear the creak of the wooden floor. Turning around, I see her standing at the foot of the stairs. As I walk over to her, I can see she’s tired.

“You need anything?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

We walk over to the couch, and she lays her head against me as we sit here. Neither one of us says anything. I know she’s embarrassed about what I saw, so I don’t mention another word about it.

After watching the football highlights and catching the score updates, I say, “Let’s go lie down.”

Shutting everything off, we head upstairs and crawl into bed. I pull her onto her side, facing me, and hold her close. Her eyes are closed, and I’m sure she’s tired, but I lean down anyway and brush my lips across hers, wanting to be close to her. She reaches up and runs her hand along my jaw as she moves with me. We lie there, no words, in the darkness, as we continue to kiss, and after a while, she shifts down on me, resting her head on my chest and falls asleep.

She keeps me up though. Her sleep grows restless, and I watch her as she begins to tremble. I rub her back, wondering, yet again, what’s running through her head. She had a night like this just the other day, but I didn’t say anything to her about it when she woke up. My need to comfort her overwhelms me, and I want to take her out of the dream that’s haunting her.

I add pressure as I continue to rub her back, trying to wake her subtly, but she startles me when she springs out of her sleep, choking in a hard gasp as she abruptly sits up. I’m up next to her, holding on to her shoulders while her whole body shakes.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Are you okay?”

Nodding her head, she takes in a deep breath and holds it for a second before slowly releasing it.

“Come here,” I urge as I lay her back down with me, and she snuggles in close. Smoothing her hair back, I kiss her forehead. “Talk to me,” I say on a hush.

“I’m okay,” she tries to assure me.

“Babe . . .”

“I think I’m just stressed. That’s’ all.”

“About what?” I ask.

“School. Dance,” she says. Those seem to always be her go-to excuses for a lot of things, and I know she hides behind them. Uses them to distract her.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she responds as she weaves her legs with mine.

Looking into her eyes, I encourage, “I want you to talk to me. I know something is bothering you, and I want you to talk to me about it.”

She doesn’t speak. I can tell that she’s trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes, so I give her an out and tell her, “I just want you to try.”

Nodding her head, she closes her eyes and after a while, she falls into another fit of sleep, keeping me up most of the night.

When I wake up, Candace is sound asleep, so I slip out of bed and let her rest since I know she didn’t get much sleep last night. Looking down at her, she finally looks peaceful. Everything about her is soft and relaxed.

I head downstairs to grab a cup of coffee as my phone begins to ring. It’s Sunday morning, so I know it’s my mom. We talk for a while until I hear Candace walking down the stairs.

“Hey, Mom. Candace just woke up, so I’m gonna let you go.”

“Let me say a quick hi,” she says, and I know she’s wanting to try to get to know her.

“Hold on,” I tell her and then look up at Candace as I hold the phone out to her, mouthing, ‘My mom.’

Probably feeling a little awkward, she takes the phone anyway, saying, “Hi, Donna.”

I listen to Candace talking with my mom while I make her a cup of coffee. She talks about the solo that she’s been piecing together for her audition next month. Walking over to her sitting on my couch, I hand her the coffee. She seems comfortable talking with my mom, and I like that she can have this with her, even if it is a random phone call. Both of these women are important to me, and to see Candace laughing at something my mom must have just said makes me feel like whatever it is that Candace and I are moving towards could be something special.

“What did she have to say?” I ask when she hangs up and hands me the phone.

“Just wanted to know what I had been up to,” she says and then takes a sip of her coffee. “She’s really nice.”

We sit back and get comfortable when she starts, “Ryan . . .”

“Yeah?” I say as I slide my arm around her.

“Nothing,” she mumbles, dismissing whatever was running through her head.

“Don’t say ‘nothing,’” I tell her, and when I do, she wraps her hand behind my neck and moves me in for a kiss before she nuzzles her head under my chin. Her instinct to avoid is strong, and I try not to question it because I’ve spent my whole life avoiding. I think about what my mom told me about not trying to break down her walls. Taking her advice, I don’t pry. I’m gonna be what I think she needs so that she’ll want to open up to me. I need her to want to do that for me.