He slowly nodded. “I know.”
“But you can’t say the same, can you?” I wanted to pull my tongue out. I didn’t know why I was bringing up old hurts. It wasn’t going to fix anything. “Forget I asked,” I said before I brushed past him and damn near hit my knees. That scent of him brought it all back, the smiles he gave to only me, the taste of him, the warmth that only he could give. I was, freezing, aching, and dying for just one burn from his fingertips. I felt my sensibilities start to flee and was grappling for them. And then the panic set in.
“You should go,” I said as I snatched a glass from my cabinet and stuck it under my faucet, putting the counter between us. I was at a safe distance. He watched me as I took a long sip.
“Want some?”
“No thanks.”
“Something stronger, maybe, so, you know, you can call me after you leave here and tell me why you were on my porch in the first place.”
“Because you’re making it so easy to talk to you now?” Another smirk.
“Stop,” I said, my heart inching itself away, trying to make a leap around the corner.
“Stop smiling?”
“Yes. Vodka or whiskey?”
“Neither.”
“Egg-fucking-nog?” I asked, exasperated.
He full on laughed as I wilted inside.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, “so fucking much.” He rounded the counter, and I put my hand up.
“Well, awesome, send me a postcard from California.”
Another laugh only made me more furious. Fire burned around my throat and I started to itch. I unzipped my robe, trying to ward of the unbearable heat.
I downed another glass of water and felt the sweat gather on my forehead. Ripping at the robe, I pulled it up and over my head and threw it on the floor, leaving me in boy shorts and a tank top.
“You need to go.”
“Not before I say what I came to say,” he said as he cruised my body, pausing at all of his favorite stops.
“Okay then, we’re drinking.”
“Nothing for me,” he said sternly. I popped the top off the vodka in my freezer, and he batted it out of my hand. The bottle bounced into my sink.
“Don’t drink that,” he snapped.
“Why?”
“Just don’t.”
“Cutting down?”
“Yeah, I am, and you’re a lousy drunk,” he said as he closed the space between us. “I’ve been fucking up a lot, especially when it comes to you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. And I’m sorry.”
“You said that.”
“Never sober,” he said, drawing my chin from the floor with his fingertips, so we connected soul to soul. It was like a switch.
“Please don’t touch me,” I said with trembling lips.
He pulled his hand away. “And I’m still on my knees,” he muttered under his breath, “unbelievable.”
“Just say it, please, whatever you came to say and go.” My whole body was shaking and I was sure he could see it.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You did what you had to do,” I said, lowering my eyes.
“I was in rehab, Stella. From the minute I signed that contract until ten a.m. this morning.”
Of all the reasons I could think of, that was the last. “What?”
“Crazy, right? What musician goes to rehab before his career takes off?” He took a step back and slid the beanie off his silky dark locks, which scattered around his face. I drank him in, and for a brief second, we were back in his apartment, my heart on my sleeve, his eyes tearing into my soul.
“Why?”
“I needed to get my head straight. I was becoming like my parents. I didn’t want that. I wanted to be better.”
“You are better,” I said in a breathless whisper. “You’ve always been better.”
“Still my eternal cheerleader?” he asked with another smirk. He took a step forward and faltered when he saw I wasn’t receptive to any of it.
“You kept your promise, that’s all that matters,” I said truthfully. “And now, God. Sony, Reid.”
“Crazy,” he said with a small smile before he looked at me point blank. “And it was you who changed every fucking thing.”
“Don’t. I just wrote about a band I believed in.” Reid took inventory of my apartment and shook his head. I knew exactly what he was thinking about: the day I moved in.
“You’ll be okay, you know that, right? Deep down you know exactly what you want, how you want this to play out. You don’t have to be a cliché. You don’t have to live that life. The music is what matters most. Your beautiful music, Reid. You can do this.”
“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “Another pep talk,” he said without a smirk, worry clear in his features.
“Yeah, yeah, look at me,” I said the same way I had months before. Jade clouds brewed between us. “Believe me.”
“I don’t believe anyone anymore, Stella, but you.” He moved toward me again, and I flinched, too afraid of myself. Of us.
“Reid, I can’t—”
“Here Without You” by 3 doors down sang out from the TV feet away as my brain scrambled for some semblance of the woman I was minutes before he showed up to my door.
“Okay,” he relented, frustration rolling off his shoulders.
“Nate’s a good man. You would really like him. He’s good to me. He doesn’t make me—”
“Doesn’t make you what?” he said softly as I counted his slow steps toward me.
“Reid, goddamn you,” I rasped out.
“I am damned,” he whispered between us. “Look at me.” I shook my head as he gripped the sides of my face. Hot tears pooled and slipped down my cheeks. I was burning up, on the verge of losing myself. The reinforced wall I’d built shook down to the foundation. Everything I felt for him came brimming up to the surface. My heart pounding wildly as he searched for and saw everything in my eyes. And then the warmth hit, the feeling of it spread from my chest throughout my limbs.
“Stella,” he whispered before his lips pressed to mine. The agony of missing him leaked from my every pore. I threw every ounce of pain into that kiss, all the love that I felt escaped in a sob he captured with his lips. Softly, he pressed in, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he slid his arms around my body, pulling me tightly to him. He kept our mouths sealed while he held me, our lips pressed together, and I felt his hesitance to let go when I pulled my lips away. He dropped his forehead to mine.
“Happy New Year, Stella. I’m glad you’re happy. That’s all I came to see.”
“Happy?” I scoffed. “I guess now you can put that guilty conscience to rest,” I said in a ruined puddle under the weight of him.
“Hate me if you need to,” he said softly, as he let me go and stuffed his cap in his jeans.
I hated the way it felt, the distance. I scrambled for words.
“Reid?” I whispered. Shoulders slumped, his eyes found mine. “What in the hell kind of rehab let’s someone out on New Year’s Eve?”
We laughed. It was our special skill, one we created together when things couldn’t get any worse. Our smiles faded as he looked me over and opened the door.
“I’ll see you, Grenade,” he whispered before he closed it behind him. I went after him and stopped him on the sidewalk.
“I’ll be the one to watch it happen,” I shouted as his back.
Slowly, he turned to face me, his eyes closed with the memory of my words, his lips twisted. “Say it.”
I smiled through my free-falling tears. “I told you so.”
He gave me one last breath-stealing smile, got into his truck, and left me without his warmth, once again in the cold.
Ex-Factor
Ms. Lauryn Hill
Three Years Later
“Miss Emerson, I’d like to see you in my office,” Nate sounded through my newly installed phone in my newly gifted office. I pushed his extension as I searched my notes on my laptop. “Nate, everyone here knows we have sex on the regular. You can call me Stella,” I said with a tone that matched his.
“Miss Emerson, I have Roger Morris in my office for a meeting,” Nate snapped as laughter echoed out beside him.
I leapt from my desk and stared at the phone.