Falling (Fading Series) (36 page)

I’ve been sitting here, anxiously waiting for Candace to get back. She left a couple hours ago for her audition at Meany Theater. I wanted to go with her, but she made me stay, saying that she didn’t want anything to distract her. I wouldn’t have been able to go into the theater to watch, but I wanted to at least be there to support her, but I understand.

She was a jittery mess all morning, and I did what I could to relax her, but she was too distracted to focus on anything, including me. Her determination and the neurotic behavior that comes along with it make me smile. She even broke out the Saran Wrap again when she woke up.

As soon as I hear the front door open, I walk out of my office to see Candace running down the hall. She jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist, and I’ve never seen a more perfect smile. She’s elated, and her joy is infectious, making me laugh, saying, “I take it you kicked ass?”

“I totally kicked ass. It was amazing!”

Her legs are clutched so tightly around me that I don’t even have to hold on to her, so I take my hands from her hips, move them to her face, and kiss her smile. She crashes her mouth with mine, enthusiasm controlling her. Taking her, I press her back up against the hallway wall, and before I can go in deeper with our kiss, she pulls away and starts laughing, telling me all about her audition. She spews out a bunch of French ballet shit, and I have no clue what she’s talking about, but she’s excited and happy, and that’s all I need to know. My smile is big as I stand here and watch her.

“I’m so proud of you, babe. I wish I could have seen you.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she says as she combs her fingers through my hair. “Auditions are always closed.”

“When will you find out?”

“March first.”

“Next week?”

“Yeah, Friday,” she answers excitedly before pulling my head back to hers to kiss me, but I’ve got something to tell her as well.

Mumbling over her mouth, I say, “I’ve got news too.”

Not willing to take her lips from mine, she mutters, “What’s that?”

“Thinkspace Gallery called.”

Her head pops back. “And . . .?”

“They accepted your photo.”

“Your photo?!”

“No,
your
photo, babe.”

She smiles. She knows that picture is all her, and I refuse to take the credit for it.

“Congratulations,” she tells me, and I slow her down, wanting to really feel her against me.

I kiss her softly, gently sucking on her bottom lip as I graze my tongue along it. She tangles her hands in my hair when I band my arms around her. We move like this, taking our time, and when she pulls back, she peers into my eyes. There’s a look in her eyes that I can’t peg, so I ask, “What is it, babe?”

She takes her hand and runs it slowly down the side of my face, and I see the wall crumbling.

“I love you.”

Every part of me awakens, and I’ve never felt so alive. I didn’t think I needed to hear those words as much I did, but the trust that comes with them was what I craved the most.

“You’ll never know what those words just did to me,” I tell her and then carry her over to the couch so that I can show her, in our own way, how much I love her.

I lie on top of her, and she begins to lift up my shirt, so I reach over my head and pull it off. Sliding my hand down her leg, I lift it and wrap it around my hip.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” she breathes.

“Don’t be,” I tell her. “You don’t even know how much you have already given me. When I met you, I found me.”

She smiles, saying again, “I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.”

We move slowly and spend the next hour making out the way we tend to do. I want more with her. I’ll always want more, but for now, I enjoy taking my time with her and savor every piece as she gives it to me.

“Ryan?”

Her soft voice pulls me from my sleep as I roll over and drape my arm around her from behind.

“Yeah, babe?” I whisper with my eyes still closed, but she doesn’t answer, so I let myself begin to drift back to sleep.

“Ryan?”

She calls my name louder, almost panicky, and when I open my eyes to look over at her, she’s still sleeping. I watch her for a second and then she screams, “Ryan!” as she flips onto her back, her hands clenched into fists.

“Baby, wake up,” I say as I hover over her, scared to touch her.

She begins trembling, pleading in a strained voice, “Please, not again.”

Fuck.
Knowing exactly what her dream is, I panic. “Candace, babe. Wake up.”

“Get off of me!” she yells, frantically kicking her legs.

Quickly straddling them, I grip her upper arms as she thrashes herself against my hold.

“Get the fuck off of me!” she shrieks, and when she opens her eyes, tears fall freely down the sides of her face. She looks at me, but there’s nothing there. No focus. Her eyes are completely glazed over, scaring the shit out of me. “God, please stop!”

“Candace, wake up!” I bark at her, desperate for her to snap out of her nightmare.

She’s in a frenzy, screaming hysterically. Crying. I let go of her, and when I do, she desperately shuffles back and away from me, falling off the bed and hard onto her hip. I hop off the bed and kneel down in front of her as she’s huddled in a ball against the wall, sobbing.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me!” she screams when I hold her shoulders with my hands, but I don’t take them off of her.

“Candace, open your eyes,” I beg as she covers her face with her hands. She’s so loud, and my mind is overwhelmed with anxiety.

Her breathing is rapid and she’s terrified, but I need her to know she’s safe.

“Candace, please. Look at me. It’s only me here with you.”

I take her wrists to move her hands from her face, and she turns her head to the wall as she cries.

“Babe, please don’t hide from me.”

She struggles to breathe through her tears, and when she begins to gasp, I tug her between my legs and her body gives in, falling limp into my arms. I hold her tight. Tighter than I have ever held anyone. She has to get this secret out of her. It’s agonizing to see how this is tormenting her. I just need her to get it out.

I rub her back while she has her head tucked into my chest. She’s no longer screaming, but the crying continues.

I don’t want her to hide from me, so I tell her, “You have to look at me. Please.” With my hands, I move her head up to face me. She opens her eyes, and I hate the fear and embarrassment I see in them.

“You okay?”

She simply nods.

“What happened?”

Lowering her head, she takes a couple deep breaths before asking, “Can you please call Jase?”

“What?” I hate this shit. That she would run to him in a heartbeat like I don’t exist. Like I’m not enough for her, but he is. “Shit, Candace, no,” I tell her, refusing to allow her to run from me. She told me she loves me, I just need her to trust me enough to be here for her.

“Please.” She begins to cry again.

“Candace, no. You can’t always run to him. Need me for a change,” I beg. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” I urge.
God, just talk to me. Tell me. Get this out of you so that you can start dealing with it.

“No, I can’t. Please. I just can’t,” she strains through her sobs.

“But you can with Jase?” I question in disbelief. I thought we were past this.

“I want you to need me,” I plead, tightening my hold around her. I feel desperate.

“I do.”

“You don’t,” I say. “You cling to him for everything. Look at me,” I demand and then hold her hands, pressing them hard against my chest, and beg, “Cling to
me.
Love me enough to
need
me
.”

“I can’t . . . I . . .”

“Why?”

“Because . . . you’d leave me.”

“Not happening, babe.”

“Ryan, please.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I assure her. She can tell me this; I know she can, and I need her to. “Nothing you could say would make me want to leave you.”

“I’m just too fucked up.” Her face is covered in tears that I just want to kiss away. I wanna take all of her pain away, but I resist the urge to give in to her. So I keep encouraging, knowing that I’m guiding her to a painful place.

“We’re all fucked up,” I tell her. “I want you to let me in.”

Her body is shuddering as the sobs wrack her. I’m powerless, and it fuckin’ sucks.

“I can’t! You’ll never look at me the same. You’ll run away.”

She says this and I want to cry for her. Take her pain and shove it deep inside of me. I’d take her misery as my own in a second.

Wrapping my hand behind her head, I hold it close to my heart when I vow, “I promise you, nothing will change the way I look at you. Nothing will change what you do to me when you’re next to me. You make my heart beat in a completely different way—nothing will ever change that.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” she cries into my chest as she slips her arms around me, clinging to me like she’s about to fall—maybe she is, but I need her to.

“God, babe.” I’m fighting my own tears so hard. “Please, don’t be.”

I strengthen my hold on her, and when I do, she falters with a whimper when she releases it.

“I was raped.”

Those words. I already knew it. I even saw her body afterwards. But hearing those words. I can’t take the pain and guilt any longer. It’s like a knife to my lungs, and I can barely breathe. I take a hard breath in when the tears slip out and fall.

I’m helpless. I don’t know what to say to her, but I knew that she had to tell me. To stop hiding it away, but what have I done to her? She’s broken in my arms right now, sobbing, and I don’t know what to do to help.

We sit, clinging to one another as we both cry. Time passes and she begins to tire, now softly weeping as I continue rocking her and planting kisses on top of her head.

“I’ve been lying to you,” she mutters quietly.

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.”

“I feel horrible.”

“Candace, don’t do this,” I tell her. “You have every right to lie.”

“I can’t go to see you at work because . . .”

“Shhh . . .” I want her to stop because she doesn’t need to apologize for shit. She shouldn’t feel bad for trying to cover this up. I get it. Understand it.

“Because it happened in your parking lot. By the dumpster,” she tells me, and I figure she simply needs to get it off her chest, so I don’t say anything. I just listen as she relieves herself of whatever guilt is weighing on her as she continues. “That’s why I freaked out. I didn’t know where I was until I saw the dumpster.”

Hearing her say this to me is hard. It’s hurts to think about her trying so hard to hide this from me and what that was doing to her. My breath catches, and when a small noise cracks, she pulls back to see my tears falling. Her face scrunches up as she begins to cry again.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, and I’ve had enough of her apologizing for shit that doesn’t matter.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ say that again,” I tell her when I cradle her cheeks in my hand. “Don’t ever be sorry for anything again.”

“I’m just so far from what you thought.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. Every day is a struggle. Everything. I’m scared every day,” she admits as she drops her head from my hands.

I’ve always wanted to know what she was hiding, but I couldn’t have imagined this. And that she lives with this every day. Terrified. The fact that she has held herself together around me so well is shocking.

Candace finally looks back up at me, pained when she tells me, “I’m fading.” I shake my head at her, hardly able to stand the misery in her voice. “He took all my light, and I’ve been fading ever since.”

Giving her nothing but the core of my intentions, I tell her, “You’re not fading. I won’t let you.”