She spent her first night back in Los Angeles packing her hotel room. No more rock star purgatory for Lita. Her packing style of throwing everything into giant boxes from Staples might have been messy and unorthodox, but it got the job done. Next, she found a real estate leasing agent online and viewed several two-bedroom apartments before settling on a bright, airy duplex in Santa Monica, not too far from the beach. She sat there now, cross-legged in the empty living room, going through her wallet to scrutinize the credit cards.
Had she applied for any of them—or had it all been James? And holy shit, it hurt to think about him. Great, gulping breaths accompanied any mental recitation of his name, as if the very thought of his presence sucked the air from the room. What was he doing? Would he ever come back? The uncertainty heaped on top of her like dirt being shoveled from a grave. Maybe she shouldn’t want him to return to Los Angeles. After all, the credit cards and various memberships spread out around her on the floor proved he’d taken up too much space in her life.
Not all his fault, though. Not all. She’d leaned on James, loved him taking care of her needs. She’d craved it because it was the only way he’d shown affection for four years. The only tangible proof that he felt something.
He’d felt something, all right. Pity. He hadn’t taken care of her out of love, he’d done it out of guilt. Over their first encounter. Over wanting to play rough with a girl he didn’t think was mentally healthy enough to handle it. If she was being fair, her actions over the course of four years did nothing to prove his theory wrong. She’d been reckless, acting out at every opportunity. Perhaps it had been wrong to assume he could see beneath the surface to the strength beneath. Perhaps it had been na?ve to think her trip to Modesto would show him in such a short space of time that she wasn’t just an unruly brat. She was a woman that loved him and hadn’t known how to express it, because she didn’t know what it looked like.
Until he’d shown her in his own way, among the trees, before tearing the ground out from beneath her.
Lita stared at the cards for long moments before rising to her feet and digging a pair of orange-handled scissors from the kitchen’s junk drawer. She sat back down on the floor and cut up the cards, snipping them in half, one by one. No more relying on other people for her needs. This was her life and she would take control. Starting now.
Ignoring the tears that blurred her vision, she dialed the bank to make an appointment to close her accounts and open new ones.
James stared back at his reflection in the rearview mirror of his Mustang, wondering when he’d had time to grow a full beard. Although, time had become an irrelevant detail, hadn’t it? He showed up to places when he got there. Plans and schedules and punctuality were all laughable parts of a past life. The very notion of planning anything when his thoughts were so fucking occupied was impossible. He couldn’t think around the knowledge that Lita was somewhere hurting. And he was the cause. He’d been the cause for a very long time and making plans that didn’t include her felt like hurting her all over again, whether it made sense to his exhausted mind or not.
Since she’d walked away a little over a month ago, he’d worked. His father’s manager had shown back up to reclaim his position, but James hadn’t been ready to give up the distraction that was physical labor. So he’d taken on a co-managerial position that allowed him to take his frustration out on hard earth, day in and day out. Just as he’d done with Old News, James had found new avenues of success for the landscaping company, taking on eight new commercial contracts in the space of four weeks, allowing them to bring on new staff. Buy new equipment.
Distractions. All of them.
Distractions from the fact that he’d been wrong about Lita. He’d mistaken her inner strength for a weakness. She’d overcome huge obstacles in her life and he’d downplayed them, made them a pattern of which he’d become a part. Inexcusable. Her expression of horror and disappointment when she realized he’d underestimated her…it was the first thing he saw upon waking, if he managed to sleep at all. Most of the time, he didn’t. He lay awake, staring at the motel room ceiling, replaying their relationship since the very beginning.
At present, he’d made it to year two. The year Lita attempted to crack him with an extreme sports binge. Bungee jumping, cliff diving, racing lessons. He’d been a wreck for months, not sleeping for worry she’d sneak behind his back and attempt some stunt before he could verify it was secure. At the time, he’d been livid with Lita. Lecturing her nonstop. Using his authority to keep her out of harm’s way as much as possible. Now, James wished he could go back to those moments. Go back to having Lita parked on the tour bus bumper in front of him, belligerence in every line of her body…and tell her she was amazing.