Blue Colla Make Ya Holla (37 page)

“We’ll get there.” I shoved the trash into the bag and then got to my feet. “We should make a trip to the thrift store to drop off the stuff we went through yesterday. Once we clear out some space, it’ll feel like we’ve actually accomplished something,” I told him as I handed him the backpack and then brushed off my backside. “It’ll also give us more room to work.”

“I like how you talk in terms of ‘we’,” he said as he took my hand and started walking.

“Don’t get too excited; I think of it as a group project.”

*

Thursday, we picked
up a bucket of fried chicken and went back to our spot in the park. He insisted the days of nice weather would come to an end soon, so he didn’t want to miss a single one. We sat in the same spot under my barren tree. Although my tree didn’t provide any shelter from the sun, we were protected by the leaves of its brothers.

“Most women I know would want to sit in the sun and work on their tans,” Carter mentioned as I tossed the bone from the drumstick I’d just polished off into the spot we’d designated for trash.

“I have sunburn-aphobia. I’d rather be pasty white all year long than get even a little bit burned.” I’d learned the hard way that the sting of a sunburn made my job a living hell. Not only was it uncomfortable, it was also extremely distracting in the instances when I needed to focus.

“Do you have any other phobias?” he asked with a cute smile.

“That’s not how this works. It’s your turn, buddy.”

“I’m terrified of mice.”

“A big, strong guy like you is afraid of an itty bitty little mouse?” I asked, using the cutest baby voice I could muster.

“Those beady little eyes make me feel like they’re planning to rip me apart with those razors they call teeth.” His entire body visibly shuddered. “Your turn.”

“I’m actually not afraid of much.” There was very little that could be worse than what I’d already survived.

“You’re afraid of relationships.” He spoke quietly, as if testing the waters. It didn’t make much sense, as he’d never been shy about broaching the subject before.

“I just know better than to get into one.” Yes, I was afraid, but with good reason. For me, a disastrous ending was a sure thing, not just a possibility.

“I still don’t understand why.” He scrubbed his hands over his face in obvious frustration.

“It’s different for me than it is for most people. Getting involved with someone would only lead to certain heartbreak. My entire future would also be at stake, so I’d have to trust that person as much as I trust myself.”

“So, what you’re saying is you haven’t found anyone worth taking a chance on.” It wasn’t hard to translate his statement into what he really wanted to say:
So, what you’re saying is I’m not worth it to you.

My heart broke for him, but there was nothing I could do about it. If anyone was worth it, Carter was, but it wasn’t up to me. It wasn’t as simple as making a decision to try, and then working hard to turn it into something that could last. If that were the case, I’d jump at the chance and give it my all. But, in my situation, that wasn’t a possibility. It wasn’t as if I’d had a one-time lapse in judgment or was even the sluttiest slut to ever don a pair of stilettos. Those things had the potential to be forgiven; my reality did not. “It’s not that simple. I wish it was, but it’s not.”

He lowered his eyes to the ground as he shook his head in disbelief. “I think I’ll be able to finish my apartment on my own.” He stood, taking the bag from me.

Even though I’d been trying so hard not to, I still hurt him. Tears burned my eyes as I tried to think of something—anything—to say to make it better, but there were no words that could undo the mess I’d created.

“See you around,” he spat and then walked away without a second glance.

‡

T
wo episodes deep
into a
Doctor Who
trance, I nearly fell off the couch when the doorbell rang on Friday. The display on the cable box said it was a quarter past noon. After having walked away from me the day before, there was no way it would be Carter. Every so often, the maintenance guy would come to spray for bugs in the middle of the day, but I didn’t remember seeing a notice about it. Still wearing the shorts and wife beater I’d slept in, I figured I was covered up enough to open the door.

“Ready?” Carter asked as he stepped past me into my apartment.

I froze. Looking into his eyes, I could see him almost pleading with me. He wanted things to go back to normal just as badly as I did.

“Do I look ready?” I said, gesturing to my ensemble. “Besides, how do you know I don’t have other plans?”

“Do you have other plans?” he asked with a raised brow.

“No, but that’s beside the point.” I grinned at him. “What do you want for lunch today?” Since it wasn’t raining, it was pretty much a given we would go to the park.

“Chinese?”

“Sounds good. Why don’t you call ahead while I jump in the shower?”

And just like that, my world had righted itself.

About half an hour later, we were walking down the stairs. He was kind of dressed up for some unknown reason, so I’d taken the time to do my hair and makeup and wore my favorite red dress. When he took my hand, I didn’t mind one bit. After what had happened between us the day before, I needed the reassurance from the contact.

Instead of going to the restaurant to pick up the food, he led me directly to our clearing.

“What’s all this?” I asked as I inventoried the scene. A short, square table covered with a white linen cloth was placed close to where we usually spread the blanket. Two thick cushions rested on the ground; one across from the other. Gorgeous wildflowers overflowed a vase sitting in the middle of the table amongst four or five Chinese takeout containers.

“You don’t like it?”

“I love it; I just don’t understand.”

“You’ve done so much for me this week, and I wanted to do something special for you.” This must have been his way of trying to fix whatever had broken between us.

As I looked into his eyes, a soft melody drifted through the air. “Bluetooth,” he answered my unasked question, nodding toward a good-sized speaker on the ground near my tree.

“How did you manage to do all of this?”

“A friend owed me one.” He lifted one corner of the table cloth to reveal the coffee table I thought he’d taken to the thrift store.

Tears welled in my eyes as he guided me to sit on the cushion next to my—no, our—tree.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a bit of panic laced in his voice.

“I can’t believe you went through all of this trouble. No one has ever done anything even remotely like this for me.”

“I find that hard to believe; this isn’t that much. Surely you’ve won the hearts of dozens of men.”

“It may not seem like much to you, but it is a lot to me. I told you, I don’t date. I’ve never let anyone get this close before.” After quickly peeking inside a few of the white boxes, I grabbed an eggroll and swallowed a bite in an attempt to loosen the knot in my throat.

“I wish you would tell me what happened to make you feel this way. I want to help you, and not just because I want to sleep with you.”

His words, along with his grand gesture, blasted a hole through my thickest wall. Before I could stop myself, the details of the event that had completely fucked me up spilled out. “When I was fourteen, my parents owed a lot of money to a very dangerous man. They couldn’t pay it back, so they gave him my virginity instead.” My arms were wrapped tightly around my middle, trying to hold myself together, refusing to let go long enough to brush the handful of tears from my face. I took a stuttering breath before finishing my short story. “After that, they realized they could use my body to settle most of their other debts. They didn’t stop until I ended up at the free clinic with pelvic inflammatory disease and the doctor questioned them about signs of trauma; they were worried about getting caught.” He came around the table into my small space and managed to pull me into his arms. I rubbed my face against his chest to dry my cheeks and then tried to break free. “It was ten years ago. I don’t need your pity.”

“I don’t pity you; I’m pissed as hell your own parents did that to you, and I’m sad you had to go through that. Why the hell would you continue to talk to them?”

“It wasn’t always bad. They were wonderful parents, and we were very well off financially, until I was about eight years old. They’d even purchased a fancy RV so we could take road trips and see the country. One night, they went to a party and ended up trying meth; it only took one time for them to become addicts. It was such a sudden change. After a while, that RV became our home. At the time, I was too young to fully comprehend what had happened, but I figured it out from bits and pieces of stories I’ve heard over the years.” Still in his arms, I awkwardly maneuvered my body until I could reach the table, needing a drink from my water bottle so I wouldn’t choke on my grief. “I know my mommy and daddy are still in there somewhere. Guess I keep hoping one day, my real parents—the people who loved me more than anything—will come back.”

“How did you survive all of that without becoming just like them?”

For some reason his proximity calmed me, keeping the panic attack at bay. Steadying my emotions, I took a deep breath. “I watched them fall apart and knew I never wanted to go down that path. I set my sights on breaking free and making something of myself. My life is far from perfect right now, but I’m working on making it better.”

“Shit, no wonder you have issues with debt and relationships.”

“It’s why I want to be a lawyer. I want to give kids like me the help and support I never received.”

“Is that why you have issues with the police? Because they didn’t help you when you needed it most?”

“For the most part. There was a time a couple of cops showed up. One of the neighbors at the campground where we were parked had complained about noise because I had been screaming. It was the first night my parents had used me to settle their debt. I was in the only bedroom, just a few yards away, and they didn’t even bother coming inside. They could have prevented everything that happened after that day, but they couldn’t be bothered to do their job.” After that, my parents made sure to park in a place where no one could hear.

“Goddamn motherfuckers. They better pray I never find out who they are. Has anyone ever taken care of you?” he asked.

I shook my head slightly and stood. “I’m sorry I ruined this.” I nodded toward his thoughtful gesture and the uneaten food.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Trusting me enough to tell me your most painful secret means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

There was something about him that took away the pain and the fear. Usually I was a mess for days when those memories surfaced. But with Carter, I felt safe. It was as if the past couldn’t hurt me as long as he was near.

In a comfortable silence, we walked back to our building hand in hand. Every time I glanced over at him, the look in his eyes was more intense than anything I’d ever experienced. A look so completely overwhelming, I couldn’t keep my gaze on him for more than a few seconds at a time. It was as if I could physically feel our connection growing with each step we took.

When we stopped in front of my door, he stood there for a moment until I looked into his eyes. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered.

“I can’t.” God, I really wanted to. Somehow I knew he was the only one who could help me truly heal. My voice was shaky, but I kept going. “There are still things you don’t know about me that I’ll never be able to tell you. You would regret it. I don’t want to hurt you—I can’t hurt you.”

I managed to get the door open, but he stopped me before I could go inside. “Baby, I can’t think of a single goddamn thing that would ever make me regret this.” Tilting my head up slightly with a finger under my chin, he leaned in and lightly brushed his lips against mine. “Please, let me do this for you. You need to be cherished at least once in your life.”

Closing my eyes, I nodded. This would likely be the biggest mistake I’d ever made, but I was tired of saying no. He lifted me into his strong arms and carried me to my bedroom. Once back on my feet, I reached behind me to unzip my dress.