Freeing (23 page)

When I don’t speak, he turns and starts walking away.

“Mark,” I plead, not wanting him to go.

He looks back at me and says, “Go home, Jase,” in a soft voice filled with disappointment before turning his back and leaving me to stand alone, the one thing I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do again.

Lying in bed, listening to the rain fall, I wonder what he’s doing. I’ve sent him several texts since I got back to my place, but it’s been hours, and nothing. I feel like I was just playing a losing game with him. There was no way to win him with all my issues. I never deserved what he gave me. I pulled back from so many of his touches because of my own baggage. Baggage that didn’t deserve to be unloaded on him.

He took it all and never made me feel like I wasn’t giving him enough. I gave him all that I could, but truth is, it wasn’t nearly enough. He needs more than I can give.

I tried. But I keep making mistakes. Mistakes I can’t take back. I wonder if—for me—there’s more than this, if I’ll ever be more than this. For once in my life, I really tried letting go. Tried letting go of the fears I held inside and gave it a chance. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after him. If this is all we were ever supposed to be, at least I loved enough to hurt. The hurt isn’t enough though; it needs to be more than this, but I know it won’t be.

Turning my head, I look at the large rain-covered window as the drops twitch down, colliding with other drops, gathering, until the weight takes over and they quickly fall the rest of the way down. Desperate, I reach for my phone. It’s almost three in the morning, but I’m selfish and don’t want to be alone. Walking out of my room, I take my keys, and before I make it to my door, there’s a light knock. Letting out a deep breath, I find it ironic that she needs me at the same time I need her, although for much different reasons.

My heart skips a beat when I open the door to find Mark.
What is he doing here?
He looks at me, taking his time. Time is my affliction. I deserve it, but I don’t want it. It stands still and pangs inside of me as I wait for him to speak, to tell me he can’t do this, to tell me it’s done with. But I also don’t want time to continue ticking because I want this, even if it’s just a look—I’ll take it forever.

He moves past me and steps inside. Shutting the door, I lean against it when he turns to face me. Time begins to move when he finally speaks.

“What you did carries no weight on what we are; I know that. But you not telling me hurts. I don’t expect for you to tell me about your past, but when that past is part of
our
present—”

“I know,” I interject.

“You really let me down.”

“I’m sorry. I honestly wasn’t trying to hide it from you, I just . . .” I let my words trail when I start struggling to speak around the lump in my throat.

“I know, but I still can’t help feeling disappointed in you.” He takes a moment as he leans against the wall next to me. “I want more from you. I need you to not hold back from me. It’s only fair, Jase.”

I don’t know how to respond because his words are coming out of left field for me. How is he not pissed? How does he see value in this?

“Look . . . I don’t want to pretend that knowing how you used to be with guys doesn’t bother me . . . it does. And running into your past may or may not happen again, and I hate that. But it’s only because I love you. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t care.”

“I feel like I keep hurting you.”

Releasing a deep sigh, he tells me, “Just be upfront with me. Talk to me; that’s all I ask. I get that this is new for you, but in a way, it’s new for me too. I’ve never felt so strongly for someone like I do you.” He takes a moment before saying, “I’m not mad.”

“I
need
you to be mad.”

Taking a step toward me, he asks, “Why?”

I walk over and sit on the arm of the chair before admitting, “Because I need to feel it. So that I know that you can see this for what it is.”

“And what’s that?”

“Imperfect. Unequal.” Dropping my head, I release a deep breath before looking back up at him. “I’m undeserving and selfish. You’re worth so much more than what I’m capable of giving you.”

He moves to stand in front of me and takes my face in his hands as he questions me intently. “You don’t think you give me what I need? You think I’d stick around if you didn’t fill up pieces inside of me that only
you’ve
been able to?”

As he moves his hands to my shoulders, I drop my eyes when I tell him, “My pieces feel stripped bare.” I catch his eyes when I look back up and tell him, “I’m not sure I even have enough of them.”

“Maybe I have what you’re missing. But if you keep holding back, you’ll never find out. You’ll never know how well we can fit together unless you try.” I grip his shirt in my hands, almost pained by my confessions when he affirms, “I need you to try.”

“So that’s it?”

“It’s really all it needs to be. There’s no point in making this into anything bigger than what it is. I’m not that guy. You didn’t tell me about Preston; I get it. I’m not blind to everything going on in your life right now. But I told you how I feel and what I need from you. What else is there?”

When I shake my head, not sure how he can be so understanding, Mark clips the thoughts that are already starting to invade when he says, “Don’t tell yourself that you don’t deserve it. You do.”

Standing up, I wrap my arms around his waist and bring him to me. “No. I don’t. All I know is that I love you. And I’m sorry. You’ll never know how much, but I am.”

He moves to kiss me, and I take it, lingering in it until he pulls back and says, “You can’t be scared to talk to me,” before pressing his lips to cover mine.

I run my hand behind his neck and hold him close, not sure who to thank for bringing this man into my life, but there’s no doubt in my mind that someone—someone who knew everything I was needing—sent him to me.

We find ourselves in my bed. Although exhausted as the sky takes on a lighter hue with morning starting to filter through, I hold Mark in my arms, connected in a way I never knew was possible, feeling his heart beating against my chest. We quietly make love, moving together, giving exactly what we know the other needs.

In our own way, we release everything from earlier and move forward. That’s all we can do because it’s just us here. And when Mark runs his lips up my neck and breathes his words, “I love you,” into me, I know I’m his.

“I don’t know about this,” Candace says from the backseat as we turn into the parking lot at Spines.

She’s been a bit nervous ever since we picked her up. Getting out of the car, Mark opens her door and takes her hand. “No worries, okay?” he tells her.

I smile over at him. We’ve spent the past couple of days together, feeling like we just needed the time to feel settled with what happened the other night. Mark is right though, nothing needs to be bigger than what it really is. And me not telling him about Preston doesn’t even really measure up to what Mark and I have. We’re bigger than that, and I’m glad we’re both on the same page about it.

I follow the two of them as we walk in. Ryan was right; there are only about a hundred or so people here, and the lights are low with candles all around. I spot the bar and leave Candace with Mark while I go get us drinks. When I grab the beers, I turn to see her holding Mark’s hand while they’re flipping through the vinyls.

I look over and see the band step up onto the platform stage and head over towards the two of them.

Handing them each a beer, I say, “Come on, they’re about to start playing.”

We find a spot behind one of the low bookshelves, and when the band starts playing, Candace leans into me—her way of saying thank you. I wrap my arm around her and pull her into me. I’m so proud of her for stepping out of her comfort zone tonight.

We listen to a few songs, and when we finish our beers, Candace and I go to grab another round.

“You having fun?” I ask as we wait for our drinks.

With a slight grin, she says, “I am. Thanks for this.”

The bartender hands over the bottles and we begin to walk back over to Mark. Ryan is with him, and Candace nearly chokes on her beer. I can tell they recognize each other by the looks on both of their faces.

“You again,” she says to Ryan and he doesn’t speak. He watches her with the strangest look, but snaps out of it when Mark asks, “You two know each other?”

“Not really,” he says as he finally breaks his stare.

“He’s come into Common Grounds a couple times to get coffee. How do you guys know each other?” she asks Mark.

“He owns Blur, where the band has been playing lately.”

“And the guy who gave me the tickets,” I add. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem at all.”

Candace turns to listen to the band while Mark and Ryan make plans to go shoot pool next week. After a while, I grab Candace and the four of us find a table to sit down. I listen to her as she starts to talk to Ryan, and I can’t help notice the way he is staring at her. Ryan normally ignores women; he definitely never looks at them like he’s looking at her. I glance over at Mark to see if he’s seeing it too and when I do, Candace places her hand on my thigh under the table. I look at her while she’s listening to Ryan talk, and I can tell that she’s panicking. I hold her hand and give it a light squeeze, reassuring her that she’s fine.

I’m sure that having Ryan here is maybe pushing her a bit more than she’s comfortable with. But I want to push her, and knowing that Ryan is a pretty trustworthy guy, I back off a little and go sit next to Mark, leaving the two of them to chat.

I lean into him while Ryan and Candace talk and say, “Are you seeing the way he’s looking at her?”

“Who?”

“Ryan,” I say a little irritated at his distraction.

He looks over and then back at me. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying that much attention, but the fact that he’s talking to her is unusual for him.”

We both turn our heads to look at them, and then Mark, being nosey, butts in. “What are you two talking about?”

“New York City,” Ryan says as Candace excuses herself to go listen to the next song.

When I get up to follow her, Mark and Ryan do too. I stand beside her as she leans her elbows on the bookcase, and Ryan comes to stand on the opposite side, leaning down next to her. I watch her turn her head and stare at him. Candace never showed any interest in guys before what happened to her, and ever since, she’s been so closed off to everything. I’m taken aback when I see her looking at him the way that she is.

Wanting to push her, I lean over and say, “Mark and I will be right back.”

She eyes me with curiosity, asking, “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be back in a second.” I kiss the side of her head and then grab Mark’s arm, leading him over to the bar.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks.

“Look at her,” I say as I nod my head toward Candace from across the room. “She’s never looked at a guy like that before.”

“Really?”

“She’s always been closed off, even before what happened,” I tell him.

“You think we should tell her about Ryan?”

Turning my head to look at Mark, I ask, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, but it’s Candace, and Ryan is known for screwing around with anything that walks past him.”

“That’s what Gavin says, but I’ve only seen him with one chick.”

“Still.”

Stepping in front of him, I say, “I really like Ryan despite what we’ve heard. Don’t forget, I did my fair share of that crap too before I met you, but this guy seems pretty straightforward and honest. At least that’s the impression I get. I just want her to start living again.”

“I know you do. Come on. Let’s go back before she gets mad at you for ditching her.”

When we walk back over to the two of them, Candace seems on edge, and I can tell something has switched inside of her because she wants to leave immediately.

Telling Ryan bye, Candace rushes out the door, and Mark and I follow closely behind. We all get into the car, and when Candace slides into the back seat, I turn and ask, “What was that all about?”