God, he’s not making this easy on me. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He finally decides he’s done standing and leans a shoulder against the wall. “Ace is a local, and you and him were friends as kids.”
“Nice deductive reasoning.”
“You’re stalling.” His words are terse, his frame is tight. I need to get on with my story.
I rub my sweaty palms together. When giving an opening or closing, the most persuasive part of your argument is the facts. Plainly stated, no frills. I go that route.
“My dad, Ron, works on the line at a tire manufacturing plant. When I go home, I go to my dad’s house even though my mom lives only twenty minutes away. I talk to her once a year, at the most. Dad makes me go to her house on Christmas. Her parents died when I was a baby and her only relative, my uncle, lives in Washington State. So unless I visit, she’s alone.” I grab the water bottle that has a tag that says it costs $2. I rip off the cap anyway. It’s worth it. I feel like I’m dying here under his impassive stare.
“It’s always awkward as hell. We make small talk. She almost always has a new guy by her side. Most of the time I don’t even bother learning their names because they’re temporary. She told me once she sees herself as a butterfly. I’m sure she meant me to interpret that as her being beautiful, but I kept thinking about how she can’t stick with one guy.” I swallow. “It kind of ruined my dad for a while. She tends to ruin a lot of things—like Ace’s family.”
Something like comprehension starts flickering behind his eyes. “Do I need to sit down for the rest of this story?”
“I don’t know. Watch a lot of soaps? You might be able to guess it.” I try to smile, but talking about this is always so painful. Most of the time I try to forget it.
He pushes off from the wall and comes to sit down on the mattress closest to me. His long hands dangle between his thighs. I wish I could crawl into his lap, but I inject some steel into my spine and fast forward to the pertinent parts.
“After Ace and I met in the nurse’s office, our families got to know each other. My mom and his dad, in particular. When Ace’s mom confronted the two, his dad just kind of shrugged. Fidelity is for suckers, I think, are the exact words he told Ace. My parents didn’t get a divorce, but they separated. Mom’s lived in a different house than me since I was ten. Her home is a revolving door of unhappiness.” I exhale deeply. “Screwed up by mommy is a tired excuse, but I guess it’s why I was scared.”
“Christ,” he says after a long silence. “That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah, really, really fucked up.” The distance is too much for me. I screw up my courage and walk to him. Once there, I drop to the floor between his knees, place a hand on either side of his thighs and look up with regret in my eyes and my heart in my throat. “I’m sorry I told you I didn’t care. I do care. So much, and it terrifies me, but if you give me another chance, I’ll prove to you that I’m worth the risk.”
His eyes flutter shut. A gasp escapes me as the pain of rejection starts spiraling out from my center. But before I can take another breath, he sweeps me into his arms.
“Oh Christ, Luce. I thought you’d never get here.”
“You knew I was coming?” My voice is muffled by his chest, but he hears me.
“Hammer hinted. I tried not to get my hopes up.”
“You jerk.” I wrench back and slap at him, my fingers hurting when they land on rock hard pecs. “I can’t believe you left me hanging there.”
“I needed it,” he admitted. “I’m not proud of that, but I needed to hear from you that you wanted me as much as I want you. But honestly, if you hadn’t acted, I would have pursued you.”
“Why the hardass act?”
“I was nervous. You really mad that I didn’t chase after you?”
“No.” I shake my head with relief. “I did the breaking up. I was the one who had to do the patching back together.”
“To be fair, in my head, when you pop out and surprise me, you’re wearing a lot less and there’s a fake cake around you.”
I crack a smile. “Really? A cake and a birthday suit?”
“I’m a simple man, Goldie.” His smile fades a bit. “My turn.”
My brow crinkles in confusion. “Your turn what?” If he’s forgiven me, I’m ready for make-up sex.
“My turn to apologize. You were absolutely right that I shouldn’t have gotten so shitfaced that I put myself in these situations. You’re right that I would have been livid if I’d seen you drunk off your ass and some guy feeling up these curves.” His hands run roughly up my sides, as if he’s imagining the scene and not liking it very much. “I wish you hadn’t broken up with me. The past few weeks have been zero fun.”
“For me, too.”
His hand comes up to cradle the back of my head. “But you weren’t wrong to do it, so there’s nothing for you to ask forgiveness for. Having said that, I’m willing to play the hurt party who needs all his wounds kissed and licked.”